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I don’t regret finally feeling what it would be like to have him, even just once. And I didn’t get to have him all the way.
Savage shuts the door with a quiet click, and I get into the shower. I scrub myself down, muttering under my breath as I do, sluicing water over my skin. I’m super sensitive, so sensitive that I gasp when I clean myself, but I like it. I like what he’s done to me.
Flashes of what happened come back as I wash myself.
The darkness of his eyes, the fixation on my pleasure, the way he moved me how he wanted to, to get at the parts of me he wanted to touch. There was no hesitation anymore, no regard for anything other than us. Me. He was hyper focused on me, and I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.
And now, you never will again, because he’s going to pull back.
“Ugh.” I finish up in the shower quickly, dry off, and go out into the main bedroom. I hurriedly throw on my PJ shorts, and spot another sweater that Savage has laid out on the bed for me. I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or not, but I’m actually so done looking for signs.
Now that I’m sure Savage wants me physically, I don’t see why we have to hold back.
This can be just sex until I leave, right? It’s not like we’re going to fall in love and get married.
I exit into the hall and find him in the living room. Savage gets up and nods. He walks past me and out into the hall and the shower turns on a minute later.
I plop down on the sofa and stare at the spot on the floor where Savage just blew my mind.
He doesn’t shower for long, and he returns a minute later, dressed in yet another pair of those cursed sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Savage sits down in his armchair, frowning.
“Hannah,” he says.
“Don’t you dare,” I reply. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear how you regret what we just did. I’m still coming down from it, for God’s sake. And it’s not fair. I’ve spent years pining after you like a lovesick puppy dog, and the minute we touch, you’re going to start acting like it’s the worst thing since… I don’t know, mayonnaise.”
“You don’t like mayonnaise?” Savage pulls a face.
“No, I don’t like mayonnaise. It’s essentially tangy cream. It’s disgusting,” I say. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“You know the French invented mayonnaise.”
“That’s aioli. It’s different. And, oh my God, stop doing that,” I say. “This doesn’t have to be a huge deal. It can be just physical. It can be between us?—”
“I told you, Hannah, you deserve more than just physical.”
“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m telling you what I want. I want you until I leave, and it doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be about the pieces of your heart that you can’t give me. It can be about just this. And we don’t have to tell Cash, if that’s what’s on your mind.”
He opens his mouth and shuts it again.
“I’m not going to beg you,” I say. “That was amazing for me. I don’t know how it was for you, but I’m not going to beg. I’m being straight with you, because I’m tired of being the person who keeps all her feelings and desires locked up inside.” And a part of that is because of him.
“I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you,” he says. “Hannah, you don’t know me. I am not the type of man you want in your life.”
“Why? Because of the bad stuff you did in this motorcycle club?” I ask.
“Partly. There are other things too. I’m not in control around you, and I don’t fucking like it,” he says.
“You think this is easy for me? To see you all the time. I choked on a mouthful of habanero peppers because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“Yeah.” Why did you tell him that?
He leans forward, bracing his forearms on those muscular thighs, his gaze fixed on me. I don’t know what he’s about to say, but if he wants to keep this distance between us, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“I’ve never felt anything like what just happened,” I say. “I guess you weren’t kidding about ruining me. It would suck if we couldn’t keep doing that.”
Savage sits back again, his nostrils flare, his gaze tracks over me.
