Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,49

a killer with blood-caked hands?

Maybe in another life, I could be made for Daphne.

I open one bedroom door to find it empty and stare at the other end of the hall. That is where she has to be. With determined strides, I march down the hall and push the door open since it isn’t closed all the way. The room is drowned in night, and the moon is shining through the sheer curtains. It’s as if a spotlight is being shined on the object of my obsession. She’s laying in the middle of the bed, and she’s mumbling something again.

I close the door to her room and lock it, wanting to be alone and uninterrupted. I tilt my head to the side, admiring the curves of her body the comforter gets to touch. I step forward, and there it is again, that deep yearning for something more than I’ve ever been.

Bending down, I take one of my bloody hands and pick up her hair, bringing it to my nose so I can smell her. My cock hardens when I get a whiff of coconut and sunlight. She smells like the beach, and I want to lay in her waters for the rest of my life. I rub my face against the soft strands, grunting when my erection thickens. She feels so good. I want to feel the strands tickle my chest as she licks down my pecs while teasing a knife against my skin.

She whimpers in her sleep, and I let go of her hair to not wake her. I let out a haunted breath and turn away from her beautiful, porcelain face. That’s when I see the roses. Who the fuck gave her those? Those were not there when I visited her in the hospital. Fuck, why didn’t I think of bringing her flowers? Women like flowers.

I can give her a knife. I’ll make one for her. She’ll like it. And she’ll be able to protect herself. Flowers fucking die. How is that a good gesture to get well? A knife is much better, and she needs protecting. Daphne falls down the damn steps. She needs all the help she can get.

Maybe…

Maybe I can slide in against her. To hold her. To know what it’s like. I’ve never held someone before, not like how I want to hold Daphne. I walk around to the other end of the bed, keeping my eyes locked on her prone form, never wanting to miss a second of her chest rising and falling. I unlace my boots and kick them off, deciding if I do this farewell, I’m going to do it the right way.

A horrid thought flashes in my mind.

What if I kill her so she can’t be with anyone else, and then I kill myself? Then we can be together forever without the stressors of life holding us down. We can haunt the valley of death together.

“I can’t,” I whisper to myself and crawl onto the bed. I reach my fingers out and stroke the apple of her cheek. I can’t take someone so beautiful out of this world. The universe is too lucky to have her. She’s the kind of person who makes the world a better place. I know that because ever since my eyes have landed on her, she’s made me want to be better.

I lay next to her, and the bed dips so far down her side raises because she’s so light. My god, I could throw her around, manhandle her, do whatever I wanted to her with ease. I rub a hand down my chest and unbutton my pants. My cock is dying to get out. I’m surrounded by her scent, by her. I need her.

Turning to my side, I watch her lips as they part, exhaling cute puffs of air as she sleeps. She has a bruise on her head where she smacked against the wall, and a tendril of guilt worms its way through me. I wasn’t there when she needed me. The one time I wasn’t watching her and something bad happened.

Of course, I have a feeling she’d be better off without me. She’d stay safe, but I can’t stay away. Daphne is the madness healing my brain. We can change together, morph into something no one expected.

“Tongue?”

Her voice is unexpected, and my heart jumps in my chest. I roll to get out of bed, but I fall on the floor with a hard thud, smacking cock first into the unforgiving wooden slates.