was right again. All because of Breezy and her amazing body. All because of her response to him. She gave him what he needed.
He pulled out of her slowly. Reluctantly. Very gently he set her feet on the floor and held her with one arm around her waist. He reached around her to turn on the warm tap water and soak a small towel. “Put your legs apart for me.”
She widened her stance and he washed her gently and then his cock. He looked around to find that Maestro and Keys had headed up to their rooms to take showers. The camera was on the counter, but in a different spot than where it had been. His brothers were looking out for him.
Breezy’s gaze followed his. “They took pictures of us, didn’t they?”
“It looks like it. I hope so. You looked beautiful. Your face when I’m inside you is so beautiful, baby.”
Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb sliding over it. “Why do you need photographs?”
He sighed and caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “That year without you, I think I would have gone insane if I hadn’t had those pictures.”
“Our intimacy should be just for us, shouldn’t it?”
That shocked him. “It is just for us. Why would you think it would be for anyone else? I’m not like Ice or Savage, baby. I don’t need an audience. I just don’t give a fuck if they walk in while I’m in you. That just reinforces you’re mine and they’d better protect you. I need the look on your face as a reminder sometimes. If it bothers you …”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if it should, but it doesn’t. When you’re moving in me, I don’t honestly care who walks in. I barely notice.”
Love for her welled up so strong, so intense, the pressure in his chest made him feel as if he might be having a heart attack. He pressed his hand over his heart and then bent his head to capture her mouth with his. She moved into him and circled his neck with her arms, her body tight against his.
“Hungry, woman,” Maestro said. “If you’re not cooking dinner, vacate the kitchen with your man and let me give it a try.”
Keys snorted his derision. “Don’t do it, Bree. He can’t cook worth a damn. Give him any instrument to play and he can do it, but a stove? It’s too complicated.”
Maestro snapped a towel at him. “Shut the fuck up. I’m hungry.”
Breezy laughed and dropped her arms from around Steele’s neck. “Get out of here and I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” She went to the sink and washed her hands.
Steele came up behind her and pressed his body against hers, his hands cupping the firm globes of her ass. “I can help you, baby.”
“You’ll just distract me. Go away. I’ll get this done and call you.”
He kissed the back of her neck. “I’ve asked Lana and Alena to get a jacket made for you. One with my patch declaring you’re my property.” He kept his body pressed tightly against hers knowing he was pushing her hard.
Breezy went completely rigid and he felt her rejection of his club. His jacket. His declaration. She gave a slight shake of her head, but he didn’t move, didn’t let her slide away even when she pushed at the sink to try to make an inch or two between them. This was one of those defining moments when she had to understand what he’d been telling her earlier. Some things were going to go his way and he wouldn’t budge on them.
The club was as necessary to him as breathing. He lived and died by those colors and what they stood for. His colors defined him. His brothers and sisters completed him, filling in all the gaping holes that were there in him. They weren’t eighteen individuals, they couldn’t survive without one another. There was no way to explain that to Breezy, she had to understand by observing it firsthand. They were one unit.
“No.”
“Yes.” He said it firmly. “My club made me the man you fell in love with. That’s who I am. You’re afraid of club life, and I don’t blame you after seeing the Swords, but our club isn’t like that and I wouldn’t be in it if it was.”
She gave a little shake of her head, staring straight ahead at the sink. “I can’t do that. I swore I would never go back to