Ironhand (Riders Of Tyr #5 - MC Romance)

22. Sandwiches

Ironhand

"I am hungry," Chiara stirs in my arms.

We are laying out on the grass, stark naked under the sun. I can't even remember how we got here. We started fucking right there in the workshop, her naked ass on the bench and then she complained about hard surfaces and in the heat of the moment I must have carried her outside and showed her how it is to be truly one with nature.

"I'm hungry too," I drive my fingers through her hair and up her neck.

"Not that kind of hungry," she pokes me in the ribs.

"And what kind of hungry would that be?" I let my fingers trail down her neck and between her breasts.

"You are an animal, Mr. Girard," she protests but writhes with want under my touch.

"I know," I snarl behind her ear and bite the sensitive skin.

"Even animals need to feed," she sits up and looks back down at me.

I want to look angry or disappointed but she looks so breathtaking, with the sun shining on her skin and her messy hair falling over her shoulders. I sit up beside her and she looks up to me. I can't hold back, I lean in for a deep, slow kiss and I get up. I help her to her feet and we head back to the house.

"How about I make sandwiches and we can eat them by the lake?" She says once in the kitchen.

I shrug. When Tor forced me to take her up here, I never thought that I would like having her around. I never thought I'd like to have anyone around. I always assumed I'd be up here alone, away from the world. She makes the place...complete. 

I try to go back to being angry at her, hating her, mistrusting her true intentions but I can't pretend I didn't feel what she conveyed with those big eyes of hers. It's not the plan, it's not survival. She wants this, whatever this is. The fear that once this is all over, I'd never be able to find peace in my cabin without her comes over me and shakes me down to my core.

"I'll go finish your crutch. Call me through the window when you're done," I run away from her with haste.

I go back in the shed and I steady myself on the bench. Damn, not even the bench will be the same. It will always be laden with her juices running down as I pounded in her, her sighs, the delicious Italian that spill out of her mouth when she is too far gone. How the fuck did I let this happen? 

I press my eyes together and then work on the piece of wood for almost an hour to clear my head.

"Girard!" Her voice is heard and I raise my head.

I go out cleaning my hands on a rug and I see her at the kitchen window waving at me with a wide smile on her lips. A fantasy grips me tight and blocks the air to my lungs. A fucking stupid dream of her being mine, my woman, my Valkyrie. She is calling me to the table after a day's work. Maybe two kids running along. A family, a true family like the one I never had, here, enjoying our vacation in nature. Not for you, I decide and wave back with a sullen look. Never for you.