Four Letter Word

I took over.

Hand forming to her waist, I pulled until she was flush up against me, tits to ribs, her head resting half on the pillow and half on my arm, her hand sliding over my cheek to my hair and down to my neck and shoulder, and my leg slung over and behind her knees, locking us together.

I twisted a piece of messy red around my finger, feeling her eyes on me.

“What’s your last name?” she asked.

My hand stilled.

That was definitely not something I would’ve shared before, fearing she’d search it online to find me and see shit I didn’t want her seeing, my last name possibly linking her to something, but I didn’t have that same fear anymore so I didn’t mind sharing with her.

Why would she search for me now? I was right here.

And she had me.

“Savage,” I replied, finger moving and looking into her eyes. “Yours?”

Her nose scrunched up.

“Well, my married name is Paige.”

My hand stilled again.

“You aren’t married anymore,” I told her, and I did it roughly, not being able to help my tone because, fuck, I hated everything of that motherfucker’s that touched Syd, his last name included.

Stupid to feel that way since it was what you fucking did when you got married to someone—you took their last name or you gave them yours.

Still.

I wasn’t seeing reason on this subject.

I forced myself to settle, watched her nod in agreement with me, face relaxed, then continued on to say, “And you sure as fuck deserve better than that last name. It’s not good enough for you. What’s your maiden name?”

She smiled.

“Whittaker.”

I tucked the red I’d been twisting behind her ear, draped my arm over her waist, then replied.

“There you go, babe.”

She smiled bigger.

I slid my hand to her neck and gripped her there, rolled to my back, and pulled her down on top of me.

“Like you here,” I whispered.

Her breath held and her fingers stilled against my chest as her eyes brightened with an emotion I hadn’t seen yet, then she relaxed and smiled lazily, shifted down a little, and dropped her chin to the top of her hand, staring at me.

Her hair was a mess from fucking and her cheeks and lips were bitten red.

One hand forming to her ass and the other twisting in the ends of her hair falling on her shoulder, I stared back, feeling the haze of exhaustion sweeping over me and asking, “Any more questions tonight or can you hold off until tomorrow, the next day, the day after that, and every other day I’m planning on seeing you so we can both get some shut-eye before I need to be feeling you around my cock again.”

Her lips turned up, stare brightening a little, then she twisted her neck and lay on her cheek.

“I can hold off,” she replied quietly.

I gave her a squeeze and shut my eyes.

Not a minute later did I open them again when moans crept under the doorway.

Syd’s head shot up with a gasp.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, looking around in a panic. “Is that …”

“Jamie,” I answered irritatingly, shutting my eyes again and hearing another moan, then two more, all three of lighter pitch and distinctive between each other.

“And friends,” I hissed, jaw flexing.

Motherfucker.

Thinking it was time he soundproof insulated his bedroom.

“That’s …I think he has three women with him,” Syd guessed.

“Sounds like it.”

She made a noise in her throat, a cross between a grunt and a gag, then I felt her head hit my chest again.

My arms tightened around her.

“Night, Wild.”

“Idiot,” she murmured. “Knew it was something stupid. He totally blew it with Tori.”

I gave her another squeeze.

She sighed, squeezed me back, then gave me a sweet, “Night, Trouble.”

It was just as cute as it had always been all those nights she’d give it to me before we hung up, but in my arms it was better.

The best.

I felt her fall asleep as I lay there, mind heavy and working out the plan I needed in order to keep Sydney here with me.

Only when I had it did I finally drift off.

* * *

Sipping my coffee, I flipped the bacon I was frying when movement over my shoulder turned my head.

Jamie walked through the living room and entered the kitchen wearing unbuttoned shorts and nothing else, rubbed his hands down his face and back up, looking exhausted, then acknowledged me with a jerk of his chin as he went straight for the coffee.

“Hell yeah. You makin’ breakfast? What’s the occasion?” he asked, grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and pouring himself a cup. “I’ll take my eggs over easy. And make sure you cook them in the bacon grease. Don’t waste that shit.”

I focused on the pan in front of me.

“You’ll take your eggs to go at fuckin’ McDonald’s, unless you plan on making them yourself,” I replied, turning to look at him. “This is for me and Syd whenever she wakes up.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“No shit,” he said, smiling as he hoisted himself up on the counter, mug in hand and legs swinging like a fucking elated child waiting up for Santa on Christmas Eve. “She found you, I take it. How’d that go down?”

“She’s in my bed. How do you think?”

Jamie took a sip of his coffee, nodded, then shared, “Happy for you, man. Straight up.”