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CHAPTER TEN

Thyrie

W e’re taking a risk by traipsing through the clubhouse to Hyram’s suite without cleaning off all the evidence covering us.

Logic wrestles with the lizard brain, demanding I get this man horizontal so I can ride him immediately.

I have zero regard for the worries future me may have about being accessory to murder.

I just need the bliss of his body under mine.

“Shower fast. Together. We can make sure to get clean fast that way,” he gruffs the instant he has the bathroom door shut behind us.

I tear my shirt over my head and toss it into a brown bag Hyram grabbed from the clean-up room downstairs before shucking my pants and socks.

Everything goes into the same bag, and I look over to watch Hyram disrobing just as quickly.

He hustles me under the shower spray the second all our clothes are sealed in the brown paper bag.

There’s a moment, just as the water begins to rinse away the sticky drying blood from his hair and skin, that I wonder at the depravity of being this turned on while covered in a man’s death.

Shouldn’t I feel some sort of moral castigation?

Mitchell Vance’s death is no tragedy, but does my disregard for his life mean am I just as bad?

“Are you scared of me now?” Hyram asks softly.

I look into his eyes and see a vulnerability there I’m not used to.

“No,” I answer simply. Hyram’s never given me reason to fear him. After watching him with his sister and niece for all these days, it’s obvious everything he does is for his family and his club. And maybe, it’s selfish of me to care more about the way he loves than the way he kills, but so be it.

“Would you rather shower alone?” It’s a bit late for that question, but it’s sweet of him to notice my hesitation and care enough to check in with me.

“No. Stay with me,” I plead. Whatever existential bullshit is going on in my brain, I know it’ll be worse if he leaves. Besides, the internal strife hasn’t done anything to cool my lust.

“Good. Tilt your head back.” Hyram guides the handheld showerhead to get my hair wet, then hangs it back up and dumps what has to be half the bottle of shampoo over my head. I giggle as he has to alternate between scrubbing and rinsing over and over again.

“Probably overdid that,” he admits. It’s charming and endearing and, it turns out, the perfect bridge from the earlier violence to the desire building between us again.

His cock’s been digging into my hip since the second we got into the shower, so I know he’s not having the same moral questionings I am.

The way he’s giving me space to work through my hangups without rushing or abandoning me is another surprise. Everything about the man’s appearance, from his sleek Harley Davidson to his inked and pierced skin, screams bad boy, yet he’s anything but when it comes to me.

“It’s okay. At least, it’s a two-in-one product,” I laugh.

“Are you laughing at me, Spitfire?” he teases. He wrings the water from my hair and pushes it away from my face, before grabbing the bar soap from the hanging shower caddy.

“This okay for your skin, too?”

“Sure, for now, at least.” I’ll use my fancy soap later. Right now is about getting clean, so we get dirty. The good kind of dirty.

Once he’s done washing my face and body, with an almost manic attention to detail and more clinical care than romance, I take my turn doing the same for him.

It’s impossible not to trace the lines of his muscles or enjoy the mouthwatering buffet of his body, but I do my best. If a couple kisses and licks are exchanged between us along the way to getting clean, who can blame us?

Hyram grabs every towel from the cabinet below the sink and wraps us both up before leading me back into his bedroom and laying me down on his enormous bed. Water droplets from our wet hair and skin soak the comforter, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“You know what they say about couples who kill together, Thyrie?” he asks.

“Tell me.” I want to hear him say it.

“The couple that kills together, stays together. You’re mine forever, Sweet Spitfire.” He tugs the towel from me and begins working his mouth down my body, kissing and biting everywhere he can reach.

“Then you’re mine,” I say, already knowing I want to keep him forever, too.

“Of course, I’m yours. Only yours. I’ll love you from now until I take my last breath. Even without glittery silver eyelids,” he promises.

And I believe him.

His hands are a little rough where he tugs and pulls at my limbs to arrange me on the bed the way he wants me.

It’s another reminder that, unlike the men I’ve gravitated toward in the past, Hyram’s the blue-collar type.

I already know I’m more likely to find him handling club business or messing around with his bike than working in the office overseeing the business end of Redemption Build.

“Stay like this. Don’t move,” he orders when he’s got my wrists crossed above my head. I humor him for now, knowing there’s zero chance I’ll hold such a passive position for long. The need to touch and taste Hyram is too great to keep me still.

He skates his palms down my sides until he reaches my thighs. It doesn’t take much convincing for me to relax and let my legs drop open as he presses them wide enough to shoulder between them. Then he’s face level with my pussy. My very wet, very needy pussy.

“I think she likes me,” Hyram chuckles and dips a fingertip between my lower lips to slick around my juices. It’s corny and breaks the seriousness that has crept in. Not that I don’t want the seriousness. I very, very much want it. But this is nice, too.

“Guess you should introduce yourself properly then, yeah?” I counter.

Hyram huffs out a laugh, the puff of his air warm against my sensitive flesh. His tongue pokes between the lips of my sex, tracing around my clit and dipping low to slip over my opening with no discernable pattern.

“Writing up a contract for this pussy.” He licks letters against me, speaking each word as he completes the spelling.

“You. Belong. To. Me. For. Ev. Er.”

It’s too much and nowhere near enough. I need more pressure or suction to make me come, and this is just a tease. But it’s plenty enough to drive me out of my mind. My hips twist and shimmy against the bar of his forearm across my lower belly.

“Please, please, please!” I chant, the words slurring together into one garbled mantra on repeat.

“I am. So pleased. Thyrie, I knew I wanted you for myself when I heard you blasting that idiot who didn’t deserve to be with you.

And here you are. In my bed. Mine. Forever.

” He prowls up my body until his cock is notched at my opening, and I brace myself.

He’s hard and heavy, and every inch of him splits me wide as he tunnels into me as deep as he can get.

“I love you, too.” I give him the words, telling a man I love him for the first time in my adult life. It’s the first time I finally believe I’ve found a man I can pledge myself to forever.

Because as he lines himself up and slides deeply in and out of my core, I know Hyram Holt is the kind of man who keeps what he loves, and he loves me.