Page 15 of Crow’s Haven (Savage Legion MC #15)

“Roxy made it very clear how things work between the brothers and club girls,” she continues softly.

“I don’t blame you or judge you for what you did before I came along.

But I need to tell you that I won’t be a side piece while you hook up with Roxy or some other club girl.

I won’t be a placeholder until something better comes along or until you get tired of playing house. That’s not something I would ever do.”

Her words feel like a gut punch. I can hear the raw emotions behind them. “That’s not what I want from you,” I say quietly, leaning forward, holding her gaze fiercely. “That’s not how I see our relationship.”

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears that she’s fighting to hold back. “I wish I could believe that. But you can’t tell me there’s nothing between you and the club girls. Not after hearing it from the horse’s mouth. I’m not naive.”

I lean back slowly, running a hand over my face, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes again. “I won’t lie to you, Ladybug. I’m no saint. I’ve got a past. Roxy and I have history, but it was not serious or long-term.”

She watches me, cautiously. But since she’s still listening, I keep going.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you moved in. Not once.” I hold her gaze deliberately, letting that sink in. “You’re not a club girl. You’re not a placeholder. And if I’ve done anything that made you think otherwise, that’s on me, and I’ll fix it.”

She shakes her head slightly, looking away, biting the corner of her lip.

“Crow, you hired me to take care of your kids and house. I was fine with that until you wanted to try for a relationship. I can’t just be the convenient woman who cooks your dinner and tucks in your boys while you handle your other needs elsewhere. ”

“That’s not what I want,” I say fiercely. “Jesus, is that what you think?”

“Because that’s exactly what Roxy told me you do. She was pretty convincing.”

“To hell with what some club girl has to say. I’m telling you, no brother would choose a club girl over a real relationship.”

I don’t know what to think,” she whispers, her voice strained. “All I know is that I care too much already to let myself be used like that. And if what you need is someone who is easy, uncomplicated, and never asks questions, then I can’t do this.”

I move closer and sit beside her on the sofa. I’m careful not to crowd her, but I need her to feel the truth in my words. “Listen to me, darlin’, that’s not what you are. It’s not what you’ve ever been. You’re one of the best things in my life.”

She hesitates, conflicted, looking away again. When her eyes come back to me, they’re softer, sadder. “Then you need to figure out what that really means, Crow. Because I’m scared. I’m terrified of giving everything, only to find out that everything wasn’t enough.”

My chest tightens painfully, my own fears mirroring hers in ways I don’t realize. “Then let me prove it. Let me show you I’m serious.”

“How?” she asks softly, vulnerability cracking her voice.

“By doing exactly what you need,” I say firmly, not breaking eye contact. “By respecting your boundaries. But don’t shut me out.”

She exhales slowly, visibly softening. “I didn’t want to shut you out, but I needed space to think.”

“Next time, just talk to me,” I murmur. “Because feeling you pull away like that fucking hurts.”

Her eyes widen at my honesty, and something shifts between us, softer, deeper. “Okay,” she whispers finally, her voice barely audible. “I promise.”

I nod slowly, tension easing from my shoulders. This is a start in the right direction. “Thank you,” I say quietly, “for being honest.”

She gives me a cautious smile. It’s fragile, hopeful, uncertain, and the sweetest smile I’ve ever gotten from a woman. “Thank you for hearing me.”

And just like that, we’re back on the right track. Sure, it’s uncertain territory but at least, we’re on common ground.

We sit in silence for a long moment, neither of us moving. My pulse hammers through my veins. Our conversation still hangs heavy in the air between us. Sharon’s eyes are fixed on her hands resting in her lap, fingers twisting nervously together.

Slowly, I shift closer, careful not to startle her. She doesn’t pull away. Just lifts her gaze to mine, uncertainty and hope swirling in the depths of her eyes.

“You believe me, right?” My voice is low and rougher than I mean to be. “That you’re not just convenient. You’re irreplaceable to me and my boys.” It’s important to me that she understands this.

Her eyes shimmer with emotion. “I want to believe. More than anything. I truly do.”

And just like that, the ache in my chest gets a little smaller.

I reach out without thinking, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. When my fingers barely graze her cheek, warmth blooms beneath my fingertips.

Her lips part, her breath catches, and her eyes are locked on mine. When she leans slightly, I take this small opening she’s giving me and lean in, closing the distance between us. Our faces hover inches apart, breath mingling softly.

Instead of stopping me, her eyes flutter closed, and her breath hitches as my lips brush softly against hers.

And when I kiss her, it’s like I’m stepping over a line, taking our relationship to the next level. Her lips are velvet against mine.

At first, I’m gentle, because I know better than to unleash the world of pent-up need I’ve kept carefully under wraps. But her eager response lights a fire to my chest. I kiss her again, lingering this time, tasting the quiet sigh she exhales against my mouth.

Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer. I fucking love everything about getting close to her. It sends heat spiraling down my spine, igniting the kind of raw lust I ain’t felt in a long damn time with a woman.

My hand slips around to the back of her neck, my thumb stroking the beat of her pulse, feeling it quicken beneath my touch.

Her breath is soft, warm, and full of surrender.

The second her lips part, I deepen the kiss until that last bit of caution I’ve been holding onto gives way to white hot desire.

She melts into my arms, her body softening everywhere I touch.

I can feel her barriers crumbling with each slow, exploring brush of our tongues.

I might be shooting for slow and deliberate, but our kiss quickly heats up. Since she’s so accommodating, I kiss her like I’ve wanted to since I saw her sleeping in that rusted-out car, hair tangled, cheeks smudged with tears.

When we finally pull apart, her eyes are darker, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and wet. She’s breathless, dazed, a beautiful fucking mess and now she’s mine, I think triumphantly.

“I’m falling hard and fast for you, Ladybug,” I say, my voice heavy with emotion. “I want you to be my woman.”

She studies my face for a long moment, eyes searching mine, vulnerable and exposed. Then she nods softly. “Me too. And it scares the hell out of me.”

“I’m courageous enough for both of us,” I whisper before pressing another soft kiss to her lips, lingering just a moment before pulling back. Her answering smile is small but growing more confident by the minute.

Wordlessly, I come to my feet, reach down to take her hand, and guide her gently to her feet. She moves into my arms easily, like she belongs there. It almost feels like she’s been waiting for permission to come closer.

I lift her effortlessly, and she wraps her arms around my neck, eyes wide and trusting. Her weight feels right in my arms, warm and delicate yet strong enough to break through every barrier I’ve spent years building.

She holds onto me as I carry her down the hallway, pausing only briefly to glance towards the boys’ closed doors. I make sure they’re still asleep. The room is still silent, dark, and undisturbed.

In my bedroom, the moonlight filters through the half-open blinds.

That’s more than enough light for me to get our clothing off, so I don’t bother turning on another light.

I lower her carefully onto the bed, following close enough that our bodies stay connected.

She looks up at me with vulnerability showing in her expression.

Only this time there’s no hesitation, no question of her place in my life.

She’s my old lady now. I’ll put her in my cut the first chance I get, but for right now, it’s enough that she said yes.

Our first time has to be sweet, ‘cause she deserves that from me.

So, I take my time, touching her gently, learning the curves of her waist, the slope of her hip beneath her clothes.

Each touch draws quiet sighs, whispers of encouragement.

Our mouths meet again, deeper this time, exploring each other with growing heat and intensity.

Her fingers drift down my back, pulling me closer as I settle beside her, bodies pressing together, perfectly aligned.

Our kisses deepen, unhurried but hungry, each careful touch drawing out quiet moans and gasps. She moves against me, her body arching into my touch, seeking more, trusting me enough to let go completely.

Piece by piece, our clothes fall away. Each removed layer feels like another wall crumbling between us.

Her skin is warm beneath my hands. I can’t seem to stop touching her, exploring her body.

I need to find out what she likes, what turns her on and makes her moan with pleasure.

She whispers my name, when my lips trail softly down her neck.

I linger along her collarbone, pausing just long enough to feel her pulse beneath my tongue.

“This is what I’ve been wanting,” she whispers.

“You sure about that?” I murmur against her skin, my fingers drifting lower, teasing just above her mound.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, bold now. “Of course I am.”

That’s all I need to hear. I kiss my way down her body. When I reach her cunt, I spread her open and groan at the sight. Fuck, she’s dripping.

I lick her slowly at first, using broad, teasing strokes with my tongue over her clit. Feeling her react, learning what makes her squirm, and what makes her moan. When I press a finger into her and curl it, hunting for that sweet spot, she bucks.

“Right there,” she gasps. “Oh God—don’t stop.”

I don’t. Instead, go to town, enjoying the scent and flavor of her pussy against my tongue.

It thrills the fuck outta me that she gets excited really fast. It means I’m good at figuring out what she likes.

I keep running my tongue around her clit and gently tapping her g-spot until she convulses in her first orgasm of the night.

She comes with a cry, her thighs clamping around my head. But I don’t stop, keeping my rhythm going, tongue flicking, finger pumping, until she’s sobbing my name into the sheets and coming again, this time messier.

When she tugs me up and one hand reaches between our bodies to give me a long, slow stroke, I’m ready in an instant. I’m already hard to the point of bursting from licking her sweet pussy.

I’m truly shocked at how badly I want this woman.

I need her in ways I didn’t realize until tonight.

Not just for my boys or because she makes my house feel like a home.

Not just because her laughter fills the silence or because her presence calms the chaos.

But because she makes me believe in love again.

“You ready for my cock?” I ask without a hint of shame.

She looks up at me and nods, “Yes, sir. I’d be mighty proud to ride your cock tonight.”

I laugh at her fake southern belle voice. It’s all kinds of cute. My woman’s being playful when she’s naked and vulnerable. That’s an amazing turn on for me.

In honor of the occasion, I roll us over and put her on top, so she can ride my cock like she said.

She’s all awkward arms and legs for a minute, as she gets her balance and begins bearing down on my cock.

I hold her hips to give her that extra bit of balance as she bounces up and down.

I’m in the mood for something slow and close, with our bodies touching but I let her do her thing, because this is absolutely fucking magnificent as well.

I come once and encourage her to keep going for number two.

Eventually, we wear ourselves out and she collapses on top of me.

We stay like that for a bit because it feels incredibly intimate.

After a while, I lift her off me and tuck her under the blankets at my side.

She’s more beautiful than she knows, especially now lying here in my bed.

She drifts off to sleep beside me, her breathing slow and even.

I watch her in silence, mesmerized by how relaxed she looks now, compared to the guarded woman who stood in my kitchen this morning, careful not to show an ounce of vulnerability.

Life doesn’t get any better than having my Ladybug curled against me, after a nice long bout of sex.

As I close my eyes, holding her close, a quiet promise forms inside me, a vow to protect her and this relationship come what may.

For the first time in years, I let myself dream of a future that feels possible, one with the woman who brings out the very best in me.