Sinner's Creed (Sinner's Creed #1)(26)

I close my eyes and concentrate on the sounds around me. The only thing I hear is the steady beat of my heart and the hammering of hers until the back window on the door is busted open. They’re in the kitchen. Footsteps . . . three sets. The voices are hushed at first, and then become louder. They are amateurs, likely men who have no direct ties to the man I killed. If they were personally affected, they would know me. And they would know to treat each step they take as if it were their last.

“Nobody’s here, man. The shed is locked up tight, no sign of forced entry on the house. Let’s just get the hell outta here.”

Fear. If I couldn’t hear it in his voice, I could smell it on him the moment he stepped into the room. I keep my guns trained on the center of the door, ready for them to open it. But footsteps descend and soon, the sound of three bikes leaving is echoing through the night.

I turn my head, burying my face into Saylor’s hair. “Stay here. No matter what, you stay in this closet. You understand?” She nods into my back, and I start to walk away but her tight grip on my cut holds me to her. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I say, reassuring her. I wish I could touch her, but there is no time for that.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, and I’m unsure why until the moment she speaks. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

—

I’ve made my rounds. I’ve cleared our hideout. I’ve followed protocol and done everything I’m supposed to do. But the only thing I can focus on is Saylor’s words. No one has ever said something like that to me. Not even my own brothers. My club cares about me; they have to. I’m valuable to them. But, if I died today, someone else would only take my place.

But Saylor, she makes me feel like I’m the only man on the planet. Like if my life was lost, hers might as well be too. I know my thoughts are pretty f*cking extreme, but I can’t help how she makes me feel.

I take time to get my shit together before going back to her. What I find when I open the closet door is not what I expect. I’m expecting her to be curled into the fetal position, bawling her eyes out and begging me to take her home. That would be a normal reaction for someone who just had a near-death experience. But Saylor is on her feet, until she launches herself at me.

“What took you so long?” she asks me between kisses. She is breathless, and her words are angry. My hands are on her ass, holding her around my waist. She slaps me, then grabs my face between her hands, forcing me to look at her. “I thought you were dead!”

Tears of anger are flooding from her eyes. She kisses me again and I can taste her salty tears on my lips. I don’t want to be anywhere in the world but right here. With her. And I don’t care if this is dangerous for her.

I should be taking her home. I should let the anger I feel toward myself for putting her in this shit in the first place push me to do the right thing. But I can’t. And by the way she is attacking me, she sure as f*ck don’t want to leave me.

My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, for her. I don’t care if she reads my thoughts. I don’t care if she is in my head. She can have me. All of me. She can have the bad and the good and I will give her everything I’ve got.

She is ripping my clothes from me. I lay her on the floor so that I am on top of her. And I remember her promise. I remember she promised her dying mother that she wouldn’t give herself to anyone unless they meant something to her. I won’t make her break her promise.

I pin her arms above her head and slow the kiss down. I hold her there until I feel her submit to me. When I pull away from her mouth, she has calmed down. Her breathing is almost normal, but the hollow of her throat is moving rapidly with her pulse. I kiss it then slide my tongue across her collarbone. I raise my head and look into her eyes. She wants me. She needs me.

“I’m here,” I tell her, and she closes her eyes at my words. “Look at me, Saylor.” She does and when her eyes are locked on mine, I tell her the words that she needs to hear. “I’m here. And I’m not f*cking leaving.” She searches my face, looking for any uncertainty or doubt. She won’t find any.

“I want you to make love to me, Dirk.” Her words are my sunset. They are my rainbow, my clear blue sky, and my complete undoing. Every man has a purpose. I always thought mine was with the MC. Now I know the real purpose of my existence. To be anything Saylor Samson wants me to be.

I remove my torn shirt and then hers, watching as her body shakes in anticipation and excitement. I keep my lips on her body as I remove her clothes until she is naked beneath me. I pull her to a sitting position and push my hands into her hair, letting it knot around my fingers. She moans softly into my mouth, and I want to take her now, but I have to remind myself to take it slow.

I’m on my knees between her legs, and I gently push her away from my mouth until she is lying on her back. I watch the outline of her ribs come into view as she takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. I place my hands on her knees and spread her wide before me. Her * is slick and wet. Her scent is intoxicating. She is beautiful, even here.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” I say, and when my breath blows across her, her back arches off the floor. I kiss the insides of her thighs, then work my way down her legs, all the way to her pink-painted toes. I want to kiss her everywhere. So I do. I kiss down one leg and then up the other until she is shaking with need.