Page 45 of Sire

“You’re a mafia man of God. Got it.”

“And you poisoned Waylon’s men, didn’t you?” He’s grinning at me like he’s impressed, not appalled. “How did you do it?”

I force a smile through tears. “You need to marry me first.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, amused. “Do I?”

“Yeah, so you can’t testify against your wife.”

Gently, he brushes another tear away. “Damn, you’re a sweet, sharp surprise around every corner, aren’t you?”

“I’m not always sweet. Yes, I did some things to survive, but I don’t want you to kill him.”

“He deserves it.”

“Not Waylon, I mean Alan.”

“Who’s Alan?”

I swipe my wet cheeks. “Alan is Nannie’s grandson. Waylon’s son. The minor who was busted, too. He’s caught up in that life with his dad, and it’s not his fault. Alan has an addiction. He needs help. But if you go after Waylon, you’ll find Alan, and I worry he’ll be so high he won’t know what he’s doing. He’s always worked for his dad, and…”

It’s no use drying my cheeks. More tears fall. “It would kill Nannie. Like her heart in heaven would break. I already feellike it’s my fault she died, and if something happens to her grandson because of me…”

“Okay.” He wraps around me again. “No one is dying tonight. Let’s catch our breath. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I mumble against his chest. Hisreallyhard chest. For a minute, I soak him in until I sigh, “God. You’re like a hot, marble statue.”

His chuckle rumbles against my cheek. “Oh, Angel. You have no idea how hot and hard I am touching you.”

The rushing tickle to my core is instant. I’m not shy, not with him holding me and every emotion flooding my senses. “I’m making you hard?”

“You’re making me everything.”

“Did you mean it?” I linger my hand down his back, wishing he wasn’t wearing a T-shirt. “That we’ve just begun?”

I should stop doing his laundry so he’ll have nothing to wear.

“Listen to me, Angel.” His voice sounds gruff; his lips pressed to my ear. “With everything I know about you now, you’re mine, Wren Chapel.”

I want to surrender to the burst of hope his claim gives me, but “You’re not judging me for what I did?”

“Never. I realize now, we’re a lot alike.”

“Hmm. It’s kinda like we belong together.” I trace my fingertip over his pec. “What brilliant, young woman said that recently?”

He chuckles. “Yes, argument won. Signs received. Prayers answered. I just need to tell you some things. And I need to go slow with you.”

“Why?” I try to keep the impatience out of my voice. “Can’t we speed things up?”

I’m wearing his dress shirt. But it’s thin enough for him to feel how hard he makes my nipples. I arch into him, rubbingthem against his abs, my lips steaming over the thin cotton covering his nipple, too. “I want you. Please fu?—”

“Fuuuck, Wren.” His hold on me tightens. Fisting my hair, he yanks my neck open, his hot lips trailing down my flesh, making a moan crawl up my throat. His whiskers tickle, following the same path back to my ear. “Angel, don’t tempt me. I want to hold you tonight.”

“Hold me?”

“I read your file, and everything you never had. Wren, I’m going to give it to you; everything you want.”

I rise, pressing my lips to his ear. “I only want you, Sire. I’m yours.”