Page 40 of Savage Love


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“I like it when you call me that,” she whispers, and moves in the dark. Her phone light flares, and she unlocks her screen, so that blue light illuminates her sitting astride me.

I tuck my hands to my sides. I swore I would not touch this woman.

She grinds against me a little, shifting this way and that. “This is how you made me feel, Savage,” she whispers. “This is how torturous it is to be told you can’t have something you desperately want. Someone you’ve wanted for so long, you can’t even… think straight any more.”

She stops moving, and I release a breath, trying to keep myself under control. If I move, I’m going to do something we’ll both regret in the long run. “I won’t hurt you,” I snap.

“Then don’t.” Hannah takes the hem of her silk PJ top and lifts it up and over her head, exposing her full breasts to me, her nipples puckering in the cold. Her stomach is smooth, and she’s got a tiny star tattooed underneath her left breast. “You know,” she breathes, and there’s a nervous hiccup to her words, “I heard that being naked is better for sharing body heat.”

I do not have the capability to use my mouth. I stare at her. She’s more perfect than I imagined, than I fantasized about.

“And I meant what I said before,” she says, as the light on her phone screen dies, hiding her gorgeous curves in the dark. She slips off me sideways and goes back to cuddling my side as if nothing happened. “I’m going to make you beg for it.” This time, her voice is steady.

She drops off to sleep again, and I am left there, speechless and totally and utterly fucked.

Fifteen

HANNAH

I wake up to the salty smell of bacon and the patter of rain on the roof and windows. Dim light filters through the bedroom.

My eyes widen seconds after they open, and I grab the comforter, lift it up to my face and let out a muffled squeal. Savage doesn’t hate me. Savage was hard for me. He wants me.

And I sat on top of him topless last night and taunted him. It’s ridiculous, or maybe it’s not, but I felt in control.

Already, my mind is spiraling.

What does this mean? Does he want me? I definitely want him, but it doesn’t change anything. Savage doesn’t take me seriously, and he “can’t” give me what I want. And I can’t stay in Heatstroke. If I do, I’m going to wind up doing what I’ve always done—plodding along, hoping things will change when they never do.

My family, while I love them, is a constant reminder of what I will never have. A husband and a child. A family of my own.

My excitement wanes, and I drop the comforter away from my face and stare at the ceiling, listening to the rain.It stops occasionally before starting up again.

Last night was a dream. A fantasy.

You are way overthinking this. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.

If I’m going to be this newly independent, traveling woman, a rolling stone as it were, then I should probably stop obsessing about this. What will be, will be. That kind of thing.

Besides, I should be worried about the stalker freak standing outside the house last night, not how good it felt to press myself against Savage’s side, or the expression on his face when I took off my shirt.

The bedroom door opens, and my intentions fly out of the window so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t spontaneously crack.

Savage enters the bedroom, wearing a thick woolen sweater, and stands at the end of the bed, holding a mug of coffee. “You’re awake,” he says.

“Hi.” I sit upright, and the sheets fall away from my bare chest.

“Fuck.” Savage actually jumps, and coffee splashes out of the mug and onto his hand. “Fuck.”

“Oh my God, are you okay?” I grab the comforter and pull it up to my chest.

“Fine.” It’s a grunt instead of a word. “I’ll be right back. Put some clothes on.”

I lift my chin, but Savage is already on his way out of the room.

Put some clothes on? That’s not what he said last night, but whatever.

I get out of bed and slip on my PJ top then wince. It’s actually freezing, and I hurriedly rummage through my bag, searching for something warm to wear. But I’ve got nothing. I was in such a rush to leave, that I forgot anything long-sleeved—and I didn’t pay attention to the weather.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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