Page 121 of I Will Revel in Glory (Death by Daybreak MC 3)
He actually goes into the bathroom of his own accord, and I hear him drinking toilet water a minute later. At least the toilets here are clean enough to eat off of. Crown is a clean freak. I’m not at all surprised by that.
“Does it work on you is the important question?” Crown asks me, sitting down on his side of the bed. From where I’m at, I can see the tattoos on his back better. I know he has a Lady of Justice on one hip, a grave on the other, and a police car on his arm. There’s a story to his ink, supposedly. Am I about to hear it?
“Maybe. Want to tell me how you ended up as Cat’s righthand instead of in a shallow grave?” My lips tingle with want for a cigarette, and I moan, leaning back in the pillows without remembering my shirt and its dangerous propensity to ride up my thighs.
Crown groans, and I glance down to see that just a tiny snippet of dark hair can be seen between my legs. I tug the shirt down with one hand and glance over at him, feeling the tension hot and heavy between us.
He lifts his gaze back to my face, but it looks like it hurts to control himself like that. Has he been hurting this much for the last few years? I know I have. I’ve ached for him, for all of them, and I didn’t even know it.
I would’ve sworn that I hated them all.
I even managed to make myself believe it for a while.
“For almost two years, I was reporting back to the ATF,” Crown says with a slight smile, looking down at his lap. “For two years, Gidget.”
“Two years?!” I choke out, eyes wide as I stare him down. “You’re fucking with me?”
“Not at all.” He stands up again, this time dropping his hands to the waistband of his jeans. My eyes are drawn to his strong fingers as they flick open the top button and yank down the zipper. Unfortunately, he’s wearing black boxer briefs underneath.
I mean … well, his ass looks criminal, those hard, muscular planes trapped under tight, black fabric. But I’d rather he was wearing nothing at all.
“Does Cat know?” I ask, and Crown shakes his head, picking his jeans up and putting them in the hamper. He turns his light off on his side of the bed and then climbs on next to me. My light is still on, but that’s it. It just barely illuminates us and the bed, leaving a ring of shadows around the rest of the room.
Everything feels poignant and hushed all of a sudden.
“Of course he doesn’t know,” he says, leaning his head back against the huge wooden headboard. Crown closes his eyes and lets out another sigh, his body relaxing visibly as I watch. This is what he wanted, Gidge. This is what he was dreaming of. Someone to talk to. Someone to love. Someone to trust.
I reach down and curl my fingers through his, and his eyes shoot open. He turns to look at me like I’m completely disturbed.
“What? You think I don’t know how to be affectionate? Cat and Nellie weren’t very affectionate toward me, but I had Queenie and Posey. I don’t know how either of them knew how to hug or love or smile the way they did—maybe it was instinctual—but it was something that I needed to be taught.” I give Crown’s hand a squeeze as he drops his gaze to our entwined fingers, studying my right hand before looking back at my face.
“I never once thought that about you,” he tells me, and I shiver all over. “And I don’t believe you needed to be taught anything.” With a yank of his hand, Crown draws me over to him so that I end up straddling his lap. The t-shirt pools around my hips, but my cunt is bare and hot against the already hardening bulge beneath his boxer briefs. “Everything you do seems fairly instinctual to me,” he murmurs against my ear, making me shiver. “I know everything there is to know, Gidge. I know you’ve never slept with anyone besides the four of us. And you know what? That fucking gets me off like nothing else.”
“Shut up,” I snap, shoving at him, unsurprised when he captures my hands. “How are you even alive right now? Cat just lets traitors in the club then?” I can hardly believe how snippy I sound, how dark my voice has gotten. Perfect little club daughter, aren’t I?
“You know, my mother died when I was only eight years old. I ended up living with my aunt. She raised me, Gidge. And one day, she was murdered by a man that had already been convicted of killing another woman. He got out early on good behavior.” He lets out a sharp laugh, and I can see where some of that darkness is coming from. Everything starts to slide into place for me. See, with Crown, with that black and white mentality of his, he would have had a hard time dealing with that. He’d probably think a man like that deserved to die … “Anyway, he was indicted for my aunt’s murder, but he walked on a technicality.”
