Her lips form into an ‘O,’ and she slowly settles back against my chest so I can’t see her, stiff with tension. Did I do something wrong? I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything to piss her off.

I turn her around and settle her between my legs. “While I was in prison, I also learned how to play guitar,” I add, to lighten the mood.

“Oh, really?” There’s an air of disinterest in her response. Seriously, what did I do wrong now?

“Yeah,” I say coolly. “I can play Mary Had a Little Lamb with my eyes closed.”

Her chuckle is half-hearted at best.

Fuck it, we’re going in for the kill. What’s she going to do? Get madder? That’s fine. She’s still stuck with me.

Grabbing a cloth, I say, “Oh, that’s right, how silly of me.”

“Huh?”

“I missed a spot.” She all but lurches out of the bathtub when I gently press the cloth against her pussy. Squealing, she tries to push my arms away, but she isn’t sure which one to focus on; the one squeezing her nipple or the one getting nice and thorough with the cleaning.

She clamps down around my fingers, making me groan. “Settle down. You don’t want to get me excited.”

“Mickey,” she gasps. “I’m serious! I need a break.”

“I’m not doing anything.” I chuckle as she bucks her hips, practically grinding her ass against me as I slowly move my fingers in and out of her. “What type of person would that make me if I didn’t make sure you’re squeaky clean?”

Bella whimpers and digs her nails into my wrist, but she’s hardly trying to push me away. Ribbons of red are drawn all over my arms and chest. If I wasn't already tattooed, I’d get her claw marks permanently etched into my skin.

“Oh, I think I missed another spot.” I curl my fingers, and she moans—God, I can’t get enough of that sound—pushing farther back against my cock. I may potentially die from blue balls, but it’ll be worth it if I can feel her choke my fingers.

I twist her nipple between my fingers, watching how her chest rises and falls and the outline of her sweet pussy through the rippling water.

“Mickey.” She draws out my name on a whimper when I thumb her clit.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

She trembles. “I’m sensitive.”

“Then tell me to stop.” Other than her hiccupping moans, she doesn’t make a sound. “That’s it. You like it, don’t you? It feels too good. Do you know why, Bella? Do you know why your cunt isn’t letting me go?”

I tip her head up by her chin and brush my lips against hers, smiling when she leans forward to chase my touch.

“Your body is made for me. It knows only I can give you what it wants—what it craves. You belong to me. All of you. And you know what the best part is?”

She stares up at me with heavy lids without responding.

“Answer me,” I growl, plunging into her faster.

“No,” she pants, gripping onto my arms.

A smile drags across my lips, eliciting a glimmer of fear in her eyes. “You’re going to come on my fingers because I fucking say you will.”

I don’t give her a chance to argue before I pinch her nipples and latch my mouth onto the soft skin of her neck. She cries out, tightening around my fingers as I increase my speed, keeping them curled and my thumb on her clit.

Bella releases a beautiful, guttural cry as her entire body spasms against me. But I don’t stop fucking her with my fingers—not until she’s screaming and pushing away my hand like I might kill her if I keep going.

My balls are so tight that it’s painful, but I try to keep distracted by massaging out her muscles even though she’s practically shattered against me.

Fuck, for the first time in years, I feel like I can finally relax. I’m out of prison, Bella is in my arms—reluctantly, but she’ll be volunteering soon enough—we’ve got a house, food, and nothing but time on our hands.

“We should get out before we prune,” Bella says, pulling away from me.

“In a second.” I draw her back, even though the water is going cold.

“But I want—never mind,” she finishes with a whisper.

“You do mind. Tell me what you want.”

“I’m hungry.”

Well, that’s enough to convince me to get out. Come to think of it, I’m starving, too. “Okay,” I say, slowly releasing her, even though I really don’t want to.

I help her out of the tub and let her get dressed herself, because I’ll jump her if I have to look at her naked again. She locks herself away in our room while I fix our late lunch, and pop a packet of Plan B next to a glass of water—I’m down for kids, but after three years without Bella, I’d rather have her undivided attention.

As I put food on the bench, movement catches my attention from outside the window. My senses kick into overdrive. Keeping my steps light, I creep toward the coat hooks next to the front door and grab the gun from my jacket.

Walking past window after window, no one comes into view. Then I see him, some brawny fucker who looks like he could crush my head with his bare hands. White-hot rage burns through me when I realize he’s heading toward the bedroom.

I don’t think twice before sprinting to Bella. The door swings open, and she jolts back with a gasp, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “What—”

Her words die when I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her back into the bathroom. She kicks her legs out and the start of a scream vibrates against my skin.

“Someone’s here,” I whisper. As I push her down into the corner, she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. “I need you to stay very silent for me, okay?”

Removing my hand, she nods.

“You don’t move from this spot, no matter what you hear.”

Her breath comes out in ragged bursts as she bobs her head up and down.

“There’s a knife hidden in the second drawer.” I nod to the vanity and rush onto the porch, gun ready.

My pulse hammers away, roaring in my ears. This asshole must have a fucking death wish coming around here when Bella is in the house. The cold air stings my bare chest, and the ground is no less vicious on my feet as I stalk to the back of the house.

I snap my head toward every sound I hear, waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows or step into the house while I’m outside.

“You owe us money,” a deep voice growls from behind me.

I whirl around, gun raised. The monstrosity in front of me has his weapon raised, too, except his is one of those flashy gold and marble pistols. He doesn’t look like the usual city gangster, more like the cowboy rendition of one with his hat and a pair of boots.

“No, the fuck I don’t.”

I could. I have no idea. Usually, when someone tries to rig a game, I don’t do as they say. Then they get pissy about it and claim that I owe them money when I never agreed to their terms.

Who is he and what money does he think I owe them? And most importantly, how the fuck does he know where I live, and who else knows?

He turns his safety off. “Don’t play dumb with me, boy.”

This is only going to end with him in the dirt. Bella’s inside, and there’s no way he’s coming out of this alive. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you better get off my property.”

“You lost some friends of mine a great deal of money. I’m here to collect.”

“I don’t owe you or your friend shit,” I spit. “I’m going to give you three more seconds to fuck off.”

“You seem to think you’re the one in power—”

They always seem to doubt my seriousness. Older guys like him always think they’re smarter and better, but the fact that he’s twice my size only makes me more trigger-happy.

“One.”

“If I were you, I’d shut up and listen before your girl—”

The trick is never to get to ‘two.’

A loud bang echoes through the forest, shaking the trees and making my ears ring from the sound—kind of like screaming. I’ve fired before, and it’s never sounded like this.