Savage Love (Savage Trilogy #3) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,9

inside me is anything but sweet and pretty. The roar of need inside me is anything but gentle. I twine her hair around my fingers and drag her mouth to mine. “I’d call you just what I do now: mine. Only mine.”

“I’m not yours until you’re mine, Rick. And you aren’t mine.”

“Oh, I am yours, Candy, baby. You just might not like what that means.”

“Those damn words again. A man afraid of nothing but the woman he’s supposed to love,” she taunts.

“Supposed to love?” I challenge. “What the hell, Candace?”

“Love is trust, Rick. Love. Is. Trust.”

“And that’s the problem, now isn’t it? You don’t trust me to stay, Candace.”

“And you don’t trust me to love you, the real you.” She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. I walk her right back into my arms because we’re not done. We will never be done.

CHAPTER SIX

Savage

I step into Candace again, removing the space she’s just placed between us, aligning our legs. “You think I don’t trust you?”

“I know you don’t trust me.”

“Then I guess we better fix that problem because I’m here to stay and, baby, we’re going to get old, fat, and boring together whether you like it or not.”

“Old, fat, and boring?” She laughs that sweet musical laugh of hers.

And just that easily, I’m hot and hard, and hungry for her in a way only this woman can make me hungry. My mouth closes down on hers, my hand sliding under her hair to her neck, and when my tongue strokes deep she’s right there with me, all in, kissing the hell out of me. The anger that had sparked between us minutes before fades away, but her promise that she’s not mine, not yet, does not. It burns in my mind, taunting me, even as need burns in my body.

I catch the hem of her T-shirt and pull it over her head. Her bra follows and with her prodding my shirt is off by the time I’ve turned her back to my front. I cup her perfectly perky breasts, flicking her nipples, my lips at her ear as I vow, “You are mine, Candace.” An image of Gabriel touching her has my voice roughening as I say, “Just mine.” I don’t give her time to argue or bring up Gabriel and that damn party Saturday night. Fuck Gabriel and that party.

I turn her around to face me again and go down on my knee. My fingers work her jeans, hands sliding under the soft denim to her softer skin, my eyes lifting to her eyes. “Mine,” I murmur, not giving a damn how caveman I sound, my lips caress her belly where she trembles under the press of my mouth and tongue.

Her teeth scrape her bottom lip, and I swear my damn cock twitches. I want to lay her down and fuck her. I want to be inside her. I want and want and fucking want with Candace, but there is so damn much more than just sex in this room, between us. There has always been more to us than sex. From the moment I met Candace, she was under my skin. From the moment I met her, she was a part of me.

That bond we share pulses in the air, but somehow as real and right as it is, she still doesn’t know I’m in this forever. Hell, I’d propose all over again, right now, but I won’t give her the chance to call it in the heat of the moment. And I need a ring. A ring worthy of her waiting on me for all these years. A better ring than dickface Gabriel gave her.

I drag her pants down her legs, taking her panties with me. She leans into me and catching her slender waist with my arm, I lift her, fully undressing her. I toss her clothes and shoes, settling her on her feet. She stands there in front of me, naked, and some might say vulnerable, her hands on my shoulders, no attempt to hide or shy away from me. I have one of those moments she was talking about. She’s pissed. She’s scared. She’s nursing a broken heart. All of these things are true, but she inherently trusts me, even as her mind cautions her to protect herself. And after everything that’s evolved between us, that’s a hell of a lot of love.

She loves me.

I push to my feet and cup her face. “You asked me why I came back

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