“Savage?” She took a step toward him.
He held up his hand to stop her. It was best she didn’t come near him. Not now. Not when his demons were riding him so hard.
“Babe.” He kept his voice casual. “Was thinkin’ it was time to take a trip with a couple of the brothers to San Francisco.”
Seychelle’s head turned toward his, her blue eyes opening wide. Already she was shaking her head. He ignored her first response and kept on.
“I know my cycle, Seychelle. I need to hit the fight club. I’ll take Maestro and Keys with me. They’ll look out for me. When I’ve worked a little energy off, I’ll come on home.”
She stopped in the middle of the living room, regarding him with her large, all-too-seeing eyes. She gave another shake of her head. “We talked about this.”
“Yeah, babe, we did.” He didn’t want to look at her, so he moved to the large glass window and stared at the crashing waves. He was like that inside. Roiling. Fighting. Complete chaos. “I explained to you very carefully how I went to the clubs and took a few fights. I’ll text the brothers and start out this evening.” It was already two in the morning. He was feeling like a maniac. Too close to the edge of madness.
“We do this together. If you need to go to a fight club, that means it’s time.”
The sadistic monster in him roared for release. He wanted nothing more than to take her out in the moonlight and tie her where he could use his whip. His entire being craved that release. Needed it. He tasted that need in his mouth.
He forced himself to speak when his body rebelled. Everything in him rebelled against it. He didn’t want to save her this time—and a part of him feared that. His voice came out a dark rasp. “It will be safer for you if I go to the club first, Seychelle.”
“It’s safer for you, and much more enjoyable, if you stay right here with me, Savage.” She tilted her chin, but her eyes met his steadily. “I’ll need instructions.”
He could see the trepidation. That little hint of fear. A flare of excitement rushed through him. She awakened the beast like no one else ever could. He was roaring now. Hungry. Greedy. Eager to devour her.
Savage stared at her for a long moment, the fight in him all too real. “I can’t lose you, Seychelle. I can’t. This goes wrong and I lose you or I hurt you, it’s over, baby. There’s no coming back from that. It’s just safer to go to San Francisco …”
She closed the distance between them, reaching up to curl her palm around the nape of his neck. “Savage, I love you. All of you. We knew this was coming. This is your time to be this part of you, to let it out. I’m here for you. I told you I would be, and I will. I’m nervous, but we both expected that. And you need that.” She pressed her lips to his.
He felt that soft brush of her mouth right through his body. An offer. Her love. The tip of her tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, and he opened to her. There was no holding back against the overwhelming tide of need. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her against him, fitting her body to his, locking her there while he kissed her.
Lust rushed through his veins like a dark predator, mixing with love to create a fireball hot and wild. A turbulent storm that already bordered on pushing the limits of his control. He lifted his head, gripping her arms, ready to thrust her away from him. Seychelle clung to him.
“Savage. I’m sure. Absolutely certain. You need to let this part of you have free rein without fear. Let yourself have complete freedom. This is your time. You only get to allow this once in a while. This is my time to give it to you. Let me. Have faith that I’ll bring us both home safely. I’m giving you permission to be you so there will never be a need to be ashamed by anything you do here. This is my decision. My choice.”
He stared down into her blue eyes, his darkest cravings warring with his deepest fears of losing her. Her eyes were clear. Held love and acceptance. He had to believe in her. He slid the pad of his thumb across her delicate chin.
“Follow me.” He walked ahead of her to the grotto, turning on the taps himself, reaching for the special jar of purple-and-blue bath salts that looked so innocent. Preacher had devilishly come up with the formula. He poured a generous amount into the water so that it sparkled invitingly. “You can touch yourself all you want, but you’re not to get yourself off. Do you understand me? That’s a hard rule, Seychelle.”