Page 19 of Renascence

Pulling her into my arms, I hold her until her rigid body relaxes, and then I keep holding her. Her hands slide around my waist, face pressing into my chest.

What are you hiding, Emily? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?

“I should go.” She sniffs. “Uncle Jeff will be wondering where I am.”

“Okay, darlin’. Let’s go.”

I see her home like every other night, this time wondering how I’m going to get through to her. I should be running for the hills. Women like Emily never want the same thing I do—no strings attached. But I can’t run. Not when staying means I could help her.

Unlike the other nights, I park and walk with her to the door. She mumbles her thanks while pushing the key into the lock.

“Emily, wait.”

She pauses, an expectant look in her eyes as she watches me. Even with a tinge of sadness, they’re still gorgeous. I’ve never seen eyes as green as hers. The things I’ve imagined about those eyes… staring up as she kneels before me, open wide when I sink into her for the first time, gazing at me fully sated.

Now I would give anything for them not to seem so lifeless.

“Here.” I hand her my phone. “Put your number in.” She doesn’t argue, punching in her name and number, then handing my cell back to me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

I want to tug her into my arms and kiss away everything weighing her down, but I restrain myself. That’s not me. It’s bordering on emotional territory; way out of bounds for me. I need to find out who’s fucking with her. I eliminate that problem, she opens up.

She opens up to me.

Hopefully her thighs first.

Shit. I head to the clubhouse, knowing I won’t be able to sleep yet. I’m bound to find something there to keep me occupied.

Sure as hell, Razor, Tek, Booker, and Charger are seated on the couch, observing what seems to be a game of strip pool between two of the girls. Melody’s tits jiggle, nipples sliding on the table as she makes a shot. Her ball rolls into the corner pocket, leading Trixie to remove the last of her clothes—her panties. The redhead makes a show of it, wiggling her ass in the guys’ direction.

Shaking my head, I make my way to the bar. Marisol hands me a beer, her glossy, bubble gum–pink lips curling up in a smile.

“Hi, Venom.”

“Hey, Marisol. Your girls are enjoying themselves, I see.”

We’re down to three Hounds now. There used to be more, but after weeding out a few bad apples, and most of the guys having old ladies, we decided to get all new girls. We got one of each, too: a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette. These three seem to be fitting in well. As long as they do their jobs—taking care of the men in and out of the bedroom—they might last a while. Raven keeps them in check, too, making sure they show respect to all the old ladies. She’s fierce, that one. They don’t want to cross her.

“What do you say? You and me next?” Marisol asks.

She’s my favorite of the three, and I’ve taken her to my room more times than I can count, but tonight, the dark-haired beauty isn’t doing it for me.

Cursing under my breath, I shake my head. “Not tonight, sugar lips.”

This is all Emily’s fault.

Fuck.

I leave the bar, taking a chair and joining my brothers. “What’s up, perverts?”

“Look who’s talking!” Razor chuckles. “Birds of a feather, motherfucker.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I take a sip of my beer, watching the pool game with disinterest.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah,” Tek chimes in. “Figured you’d have dragged Marisol back to your room already.”