Page 110 of Down & Dirty: Rage

With a nod, he got up.

Since it was a struggle to stop staring at his naked ass when he bent over to dig through the box, she gave up and simply studied the way his muscles bunched and stretched under his tattooed skin.

That was a view she wouldn’t get bored of seeing.

One problem with this apartment: it only had one bathroom and it was in the hallway. Once he found a towel and a washcloth, it was a bold move for him to head out there bare-ass naked, carrying a full condom.

When he returned a few minutes later, he didn’t rush over to his clothes, he climbed back on the bed and gently cleaned her up, wiping between her legs and along her inner thighs. All without a single word.

Once he set the damp washcloth aside, she again expected him to beeline to his discarded clothes. She was shocked speechless when he joined her back in bed and, oncesettled, pulled her up and over him. Almost like she was a blanket.

What was going on? He originally acted like he didn’t want to do this and now he was lingering?

Weird.

Not only was he not rushing out the door, he was settling in. His fingers lazily trailed up and down her spine and occasionally played with the end of her French braid.

Could it be? Had this been more than only getting laid for him? Did the sex have some meaning more than a biological response?

Impossible.

Even if it didn’t, she was enjoying the quiet moment together. What could be considered the “afterglow.”

She wondered how many times he’d ever hung around after getting off.

She couldn’t imagine many, if at all.

None of the bikers she grew up with were romantic. Of course, some of the OGs were with their wives, but not all. And most of them kept those “soft” moments behind closed doors.

Again, one exception being her father.

He didn’t give a crap who saw how much he loved and worshipped Lyric’s mother. He wouldn’t give a damn if any of his brothers rode his ass about it, either.

However, as far back as she remembered, no one had.

They were one DAMC couple that never bumped heads, never gave each other shit. Not even in private. They were truly two halves of a whole and fate brought them together for a reason.

More than one, actually. The most important being the healing of Jazz’s trauma after being mentally and physicallyscarred after the Shadow Warriors kidnapped and assaulted her.

Lyric always compared Crow’s love for her mother to the other couples and none lived up to them.

In truth, Ashton was the opposite of her father in most ways.

Crow was cool-headed. Ash was not.

Crow was wise. Ash was intelligent, but didn’t always make the best decisions.

Despite that, she had no doubt he could love with the same intensity. The same loyalty.

She laid her cheek on his gently rising and falling chest and listened to the steady thump under her ear, timing her breathing to match his heartbeat.

When a flash of silver caught her eye, she captured the Viking hammer pendant hanging from around his neck and studied it carefully in her palm.

Those tattooed fingers closed around hers, drawing her attention. “Let Avery know you ain’t goin’ out tonight.”

Her stomach dropped and a sour taste filled her mouth.

Did he have sex with her simply so he could control her? Did he really think if he relented to having sex with her, she’d do anything he wanted?