Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Why wait?” Tiny gave me a shit-eating grin in the rearview mirror. Bastard. “Got hours before we get home.”
Tillie narrowed her eyes, giving a wary look. “I just told you you’re the one person in my life I completely trust. Did I misjudge you?”
“No, honey. You didn’t misjudge me.” I tugged her back to lie against my chest. She resisted at first, but then melted against me, burrowing her face in my neck once more. I wanted to leave it at that. Let her rest. Fuck that bastard, Tiny, anyway. But my mouth had other plans. “You’re the woman who’s haunted my dreams since that fuckin’ day I met you. I’m a son of a bitch on the best of days, but I’m your son of a bitch. Leave it at that. For now.”
She trembled in my arms, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, her fists bunched in my shirt. She heaved in a shuddering breath before letting it out. “You swear?”
Christ.
“Yeah, baby. I fuckin’ promise. On my fuckin’ life.”
Chapter Four
Tillie
I should be scared.
No. Scratch that.
I should be fucking terrified right now.
Maybe?
To my parents’ way of thinking, this man -- who’d killed my husband -- and his club -- my parents would associate any sentence with “club” at the end with “gang” -- were all terrible people. The problem with believing my parents were right and that I shouldn’t trust Xavier was the fact they’d shoved me into an unwanted marriage for their own financial benefit. They would not believe me when I told them Paul had been the one to break my arm and bust my lip. Xavier not only believed me, he’d taken care of the problem. No questions asked. Irony was the pink elephant in the room. So to speak.
Instead of being terrified, I felt safer than I had in years, wrapped in Xavier’s arms and surrounded by his scent. He was older than me by a good fifteen years and had this air of calm about him I’d never felt from anyone else in my life. A man my parents would call a criminal, a man who’d spent time in prison for killing my abuser, felt like my safest harbor. What did that say about the people in my life?
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “You being my son of a bitch?” I felt his chest expand with a deep breath. His hand never stopped its soothing motion on my back.
“It means I protect what’s mine. You’re mine, same as I’m yours. It means no one touches you. No one threatens you. You’re gonna be safe and fuckin’ disgustingly happy.” He sounded disgruntled, but also so sincere I felt my lips tugging into a smile. I had talked to the man every week for more than a year. I knew when he was uncomfortable with his feelings.
“You don’t sound too happy about this, Xave.”
“Ain’t.” He glanced down, meeting my gaze briefly. “Don’t change nothin’. You’re still mine.”
His words were both soothing yet painful. They felt like an electric blanket on high when the house was cool in winter. Not strictly necessary, but so good! They were more freeing than I wanted to admit. I should have been offended at being claimed like property, but there was something in his tone that made me feel like this was about protection rather than possession. Besides, he’d told me about his club. At least the finer points of belonging to a brotherhood of found family. I knew what being claimed was and I knew what an old lady was. What hurt was the fact Xavier didn’t seem to want me like I wanted him. Not for the long term, anyway.
“Why aren’t you happy?” I asked, keeping my voice low even though I knew Tiny could certainly hear us.
Xavier sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath me. “Because you deserve better than a fuckin’ ex-con with more enemies than friends. But that don’t change what is.” His hand continued its steady path up and down my spine. It was soothing. Lulling. “I swear to you, I’ll make you happy, Tillie. Give me a chance. Yeah?”
“Yes,” I whispered, not hesitating. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have asked for time to think about it. But honestly, what was there to think about? I’d spent a year visiting this man every week, pouring out my heart to him, learning about his life, sharing mine. I’d never felt as wanted, understood, or safe as I did with Xavier.
“You sure, baby? This ain’t somethin’ I’ll let you take back later.”
I shifted in his lap so I could see his face better. His dark eyes were intense, searching mine for any sign of doubt. I found none within myself. “I’m sure,” I said, my voice stronger now. “You saved me, Xavier. I have no idea how much of an inconvenience it was for you either time -- other than the prison sentence obviously -- but you came for me when I needed you most. Not once, but twice. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”