Page 74 of What He Wants

Paul was dead, and I was going to burn in hell for being happy about that. He’d hurt Jasmine, raped her, and practically ruined her face. I’d wanted her to go to the hospital, but she’d refused, convincing me that the club doctor could take care of her. Time would heal us both. Nothing had been broken, and we’d both been lucky in that respect. Clay had been as attentive to her needs as Big John was to mine.

Once the doctor had taken care of Jasmine he’d come to Big John’s room and examined me, cleaning up my cuts to make sure that nothing needed stitches. Other than being covered in bruises, with a swollen eye and lip, and body aches all over, I’d escaped any serious damage. I’d been lucky. He’d left me with pain pills and told me that a long soak in a hot tub would help.

I brought my knees up close to my body and wrapped my arms around them. I knew that my house was gone. Paul had set it on fire after killing the man whose name I’d found out was Ross. We’d taken my car because Paul had paid for someone in town to drive him out to my place early that morning. He’d gained entrance by breaking into the back door, and had been hiding out in my apartment the entire day. It gave me chills when I thought about it now, to know that he’d been there all along, just waiting.

A shiver moved over me, and I sank lower into the warm water. Insurance would pay for the house. I could rebuild and start over. Of course, the insurance company would be notified by the fire department that it had been arson, but that wasn’t my fault. Jasmine and I had been in Portland on a shopping trip, or so we’d been advised to say when the police came calling. Jasmine had accepted the story without question, while I’d turned questioning eyes on Big John. Later, in the privacy of our room, he’d told me why it was important to stick to the story that Hawk had given Charlie.

It didn’t mean that I was happy about it. I didn’t like lying to the police, but I had to admit that I just wanted to put the whole thing behind me, and I didn’t want Big John to go to prison for killing Paul. I wasn’t going to let Paul ruin the best thing that had ever happened to me, in life or in death. He’d gotten what he deserved, and I didn’t want to know what they’d done with his body. Charlie had taken my statement over the phone and had seemed satisfied that I’d been telling her the truth. Hopefully we didn’t run into each other anytime soon, or she’d know from my appearance that there was more to the story.

The water in the tub was turning cool, but I didn’t care. When the bathroom door opened, I opened my eyes to the image of Big John standing there, looking strong and quiet. His gaze flickered over me, narrowing on what little he could see through the bubbles, as he slowly made his way to me.

“You’re going to turn into a prune,” he commented, reaching down to run the back of his hand gently over my swollen cheek.

I forced a small smile and leaned into his caress, all but purring. “I don’t care. It feels too good.”

“Well, then, let’s at least add some heat to it.” He reached for the plug, turning on the hot water at the same time. Instant heat surrounded my toes and feet.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “For everything.”

He nodded, reaching for his cut and slipping it over his shoulders. I didn’t question him when he removed his tee, and then his boots, before undoing his jeans and sliding them down. My gaze traveled over him, pausing on his cock. My smile grew bigger.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that muscle so relaxed before,” I teased.

“It won’t be for long.” He stepped carefully into the tub, nudging me forward so he could slide down behind me. Cushioned against his body with his arms around me, I released a sigh of longing and contentment. “Don’t let me hurt you,” he breathed against my ear, settling his powerful thighs on either side of mine.

“You won’t,” I assured him, watching the steam of the hot water swirling above the vanishing bubbles. I watched his foot maneuver the faucet as he turned off the water. “You have talents,” I laughed softly. He chuckled behind me but didn’t say anything. “Do you think the police will believe our story?”

“They have no reason not to, baby. Solon’s police department only has a sheriff and a few deputies. They don’t have the time or resources to explore every incident when there’s a plausible story behind it. They’ll focus on Ross’s murder.”

“I’m sorry about Ross. I didn’t know what Paul had in mind when he ordered me to ask Ross to come inside. I didn’t even know Paul owned a gun.”

“Don’t,” Big John ordered lightly, kissing the side of my neck. “It’s not your fault. That’s all on him, and he’s paid for it. He’s paid for the hell he put you and Jasmine through. Paul Singleton no longer exists.”

“He raped her, Big John.” A hiccup escaped me as emotion suddenly got the best of me.

His arms tightened around me. “I know, baby,” he replied softly. “It’ll take time, but Jasmine will be okay. Clay and you, fuck, the whole club, will see to it. She’ll get whatever she needs.”

I nodded, satisfied. Silence grew between us. We were content to sit quietly with our thoughts for a while, enjoying the close contact. I was pretty sure that I loved Big John, but I wasn’t ready to confess it yet. Now, after what had just happened, wasn’t the time. He may have thought that I was just over emotional after everything I’d been through. I shut my eyes and leaned back against him, sighing with guilt-free happiness.

I had dozed off for a few minutes when the feel of Big John’s hands moving over my breasts woke me. He’d soaped them up and was running them over the front of me, before moving down my stomach to my pussy. His touch seemed lazy and almost impersonal, yet a spark of need awakened in me. I sucked in my breath and shivered slightly. Even though I could feel his cock hardening, I got the impression that he was content to just touch me.

It was nice.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he murmured against my ear, his hands lifting and squeezing my breasts. “So fucking responsive.” His fingers plucked at my nipples until they were hard and aching. I could feel his arousal growing, in the size of his cock and the huskiness of his voice. I rubbed my bottom against him, receiving a hiss for my efforts. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

I stiffened, trying to understand his words and what they meant, slightly dazed with lazy arousal. Intuition, along with a certain body part of his, told me that he wanted to fuck me, just not now, when he thought I was vulnerable. He didn’t want to take advantage. That was sweet of him, and made me love him more.

“When shit settles down and you’re healed, we have some things to take care of,” he surprised me by saying, running his finger over my bare mound. I moaned and spread my legs, encouraging him. “First thing is that we need to find a house. We’re not going to live here at the club.”

We’re? I liked the sound of that. “We’re not?”

“Fuck no, baby. I want a place to come home to at the end of the day. I want a woman waiting for me, with open legs.”

I laughed softly. “It’s supposed to be with opened arms.”

“That, too.” There was a teasing quality in his husky tone that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I want you for my old lady.” His hand cupped my sex, but it didn’t feel as sexual as it did comforting. There was no urgency in his touch, just a gentle claiming of what he wanted. “I care about you, baby. We have something, and I want to explore it. For the first time in my life I want a future with something good in it, and that’s you.” His words brought tears to my eyes. “I want to take care of you, Daisy Mae Flowers. I’ll protect you with my life. My club will protect you.”

“You love me?” I asked softly through my tears. I felt him tense slightly behind me, and I wondered if he was going to answer me. I bit down on my bottom lip as the silence filled the steamy bathroom. He’d said he cared, but I had to know how much. I wasn’t about to lose myself in a relationship that was only sexual, no matter how hot Big John was.