What the hell do interviews have to do with killing a few bikers?

The more I learned, the more worried I became. I should’ve known that a battle over betrayal was too small for Arthur’s unwavering attention. I knew what he was like—always striving for more, never happy. What is he chasing this time?

My brain continued to clog up with information that I couldn’t compute as Arthur shot off questions and gathered answers that I supposed made sense to them but definitely not to me. It didn’t matter I was immersed in this new Club. It didn’t matter I slept beside the president every night. I couldn’t decipher their secrets no matter how hard I tried.

Time trickled past as the meeting grew more and more involved. Arthur was in his element. A born leader.

And all I could do was follow.

Chapter Eighteen

Kill

I’d said it.

I’d told her I loved her. It was too late to change my mind. All I needed to do was wait until she’d finished school and then I could officially date her. Yes, there were a few years between us. Yes, I was sure her father didn’t approve. But none of that mattered. Cleo was mine. And the world finally needed to know it. —Kill, age seventeen

“Come with me. I have a surprise for you.”

The members of Pure Corruption had filed outside, slowly trickling like water through sand until it was just Cleo and me in the room. The meeting had gone well. Things were in place. It was time to relax and regroup like we always did.

Tonight would be something normal and common, but for the first time I’d have my woman on my knee and that just made everything fucking brilliant.

Cleo’s eyes met mine, her long red hair looking like living fire down her back. “A surprise?”

I nodded, moving around the table to pluck her from her chair. Her body moved like rigid plastic, no sway or buckle toward me.

My heart stuttered as I cupped her face. “Everything okay?”

Biting her lip, her gaze searched mine—trying to tear whatever she needed to know unwillingly from my soul.

“Buttercup, whatever it is. You can ask me. You don’t need to search for answers when I’m ready to tell you anything you want to know.”

“Anything?”

I kissed her forehead, dragging her into an embrace. “Anything.”

Her small arms wrapped around my waist. My body wanted to give in to her. My legs were sick of holding my weight. My head was pissed off with existing with lousy vision and pain. But a simple hug from her crippled me.

“For over an hour, I’ve listened to plans that you’ve had in place for years. I’ve witnessed passion, intelligence, and a ruthless determination shared by all members. But I’m completely lost.”

“Lost?”

She pulled away. “What are you planning on doing? What interviews are arranged for a few days from now? Who are you meeting?”

A smile tugged my lips. “That’s a lot of questions.”

“There was a lot of information.”

I caught a handful of hair, curling the long strands around my fingers, forcing her to come closer. “There was a lot to plan for.”

Her lips parted as I dragged her closer. “Arthur, I’ve been in the dark for eight long years. Don’t blot out my light now.”

My heart flip-flopped. My fingers slipped from her hair, dropping to secure around her hip bones. Jerking her forward, I spun her around and pressed her against the table. “I would never do that. Never.”

The tip of her tongue ran along her bottom lip. “I know. You’re not deliberately keeping me confused, but I need to understand.”

“And you will understand. But there’s only so much I can tell you before it sounds impossible. I have to show you—mainly to prove to myself that I haven’t been wasting my time all these years planning this.”

She laughed quietly. “In that case, show away. You have my undivided attention.”

My fingers trailed from her hips to her rib cage, feathering lightly, skating over the cotton of her top. “Undivided, huh? Just like you had mine when you squeezed my cock in the bathtub?”

Her head lolled back as my thumbs caressed her nipples. “Uh-huh …” The sensitive flesh instantly budded beneath my touch. “Exactly like that,” she moaned as I switched from caressing to pinching.

Scooting backward onto the table, her legs parted, beckoning me closer. Accepting the invitation, I wedged my thighs between hers and rocked the fly of my jeans on her denim-clad pussy.

“Oh, God.” Her skin flushed a flamingo pink as my lips kissed a path from her throat to her mouth.

“Kiss me, Arthur.”

My cock swelled; I couldn’t disobey. Her lips were silk and softness as I took her mouth.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t take.

Time slowed down as we breathed slow and deep, both keeping hold of the straining leashes of our desire.

Her tongue chipped away at my self-control, licking me sweetly.

I parted my lips, letting her taste and guide.

Her small hands landed on my chest, sweeping down my front to catch on my belt. We both sucked in a breath, standing on the edge of stopping or giving in.

Doctor Laine’s warning came back to mind.

No exercise.

But that was fucking three days ago. Surely I’d healed enough to handle sex. I wasn’t that much of an invalid, was I?

Cleo kept kissing me and there went my conscious decision. There was no way to know if I was better—unless we tried.