The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(87)

“Never change, Kitten,” he pleads. “You’re all the good left in the world.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into the crook of his arm.

“I hope our kids all have your heart,” he declares.

“Are we interrupting?” Lenore questions, holding a tray full of empty glasses and pitcher of what looked like lemonade.

I smiled, leaning closer to Riggs.

“Be nice,” I warn through clenched teeth.

“Did you spike that?” He asks his mother as she fills the glasses.

“No but I can if you’d prefer that,” she lifts her eyes to his and raises an eyebrow.

“Might not be a bad idea,” he says, holding her gaze.

Riggs’ hold on me loosens a bit, and I swear his mother smiles at him. Mr. Montgomery sits across from us, waving playfully at Eric as he averts his eyes back and forth between me and Riggs.

“So how did you two meet?”

“Lauren was dancing on top of a bar when I first met her,” he says proudly.

“He kidnapped my mother,” I blurt simultaneously, before we both burst out laughing and his parents gawk at us.

“I think spiking the lemonade is a great idea,” Lenore states.

“I’ll get the Goose,” Mr. Montgomery offers, rising to his feet. Eric raises his hands as his grandfather stands, causing the man to freeze in his tracks and Riggs to wrap his arms protectively around our son.

“I’m not a vulture,” Mr. Montgomery says, smiling at Eric. “How about an ice pop?” He turns his gaze to me. “We sent Roger to the store for a couple of things, unsure what he might like. We have all different flavors of those natural fruit bars. Is he allergic to anything?”

“Who are you?” Riggs mutters.

“No, Mr. Montgomery. Eric doesn’t have any allergies why don’t you bring him out your favorite and we’ll see if he likes it.”

“Call me, Robert, please,” he requests before looking back at his son. “And to answer your question, I’m your father. I might not have been a great one, even a decent one, but you are my son and I’d like the chance to be some kind of father.”

Riggs was speechless.

Somewhere pigs were flying and hell was freezing over.

Lenore pours half a bottle of Grey Goose into the lemonade, refilling the pitcher after we finished the first one. Once she lost the uptight act, she wasn’t all that bad. She told me stories about when Riggs was little. There weren’t many but the few she told had me smiling. My favorite was the one she told about Riggs and Bones lighting the garbage cans on fire.

Robert watched off to the side as Riggs chased Eric around the grass, building his courage to join in before three generations ran around the yard chasing a soccer ball. It wasn’t perfect, there was still tension between Riggs and his parents but they were trying and in turn so was he.

Later that night, I left Riggs and Eric on the bed and drew myself a bath. The bathroom connected to our room was almost the size of our apartment. The minute I sank into the bubbles I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, the only thing missing was Prince singing in my ear.

Relaxed, I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the tub. My fingers shrivel but I continue to stay buried beneath the bubbles when the door creaks open and I force my eyes open. Leaning against the door frame, wearing nothing but a fitted pair of boxer briefs, Riggs fixes his hungry eyes on mine. I try to hold his gaze but my eyes wander down his tattooed body. Every piece of ink tells the story of who he was and who he became. Today, I learned a little of who Riggs used to be before the Satan’s Knights MC and I love those broken pieces just as much as the colorful package he’s become.

“Eric’s sleeping,” he says, pushing off the frame of the door, casually striding toward me. “How’s the water?”

“Cold now,” I hoarsely reply, cocking my head to the side as he kneels in front of the tub. Nonchalantly he dips his hand under the lukewarm water and touches my thigh.

You feeling frisky, Tiger?” I ask as he caresses my leg brushing away what’s left of the bubbles so I’m exposed to his hungry eyes.

“Why, Kitten?” He smirks, lifting his gaze as his hand curls around my thigh. “You wanna play?” He asks mischievously as his fingers tickle the inside of my thigh, trailing higher and higher. I open my mouth to speak but the words get lost on my tongue as his fingers glide over my pussy.

“Hmm.” He probes, his infamous grin slyly displayed across his face as he continues to stroke me.

“You don’t play fair,” I hiss as he slides two fingers inside me. I close my eyes, loving the feel of him and arch my body against his hand making slight waves around me.

“Maybe not,” he says thoughtfully. “But I always get you off first. Sounds like a win-win to me,” he counters, expertly moving and curling his fingers inside me. “You want to get off, Kitten, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” I murmur. His fingers leave me as he swirls his thumb over my clit. Water splashes as I widen my legs as much as I can, throwing one over the edge of the tub. My eyes shoot to him as he slams his fingers back where I want them and smiles cockily.

“Yeah, you want to get off,” he states. Leaning over my leg he turns his gaze beneath the water to his hand. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans or maybe he whimpers.