I catch up to my girl in the kitchen.

"You avoiding me, Angel Face?" I whisper in her ear.

The tremor that runs through her body gets me hard as fuckin' steel. "You done in here?"

"I guess so."

"Good. I need you to myself."

She gives me a strange look. "You were with me all day."

"Not the same."

I steer her to her room, and close the door behind us. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, but something's bothering her. "Tell me."

"Nothing. Tawny just got in my head."

I don't like the sounds of that at all.

"Tell me."

Pain twists her face. "Nothing. Same old shit."

We're sitting side-by-side on her bed but she's staring at her hands in her lap.

"Hey, fuck her." I grab one of her hands until she looks at me.

A smile tips the corners of her mouth up. "You're so sweet for a Wrecking Ball," she teases.

"Only to you." Any more words are lost as she leans over and kisses me.

"Thanks for sticking with me today."

"Obviously I didn't do a good job."

"Yeah, you did."

She stands and slips off the plain, black sweater and dark jeans.

I raise an eyebrow when she pauses to look at me. "Keep going."

Instead of stripping down, she walks forward and presses into me. That's fine. I take the opportunity to run my hands over her bare skin.

Flipping her onto the bed, I lean over her and take her mouth. She stretches, arching her back, arms over her head. Spread out like a playboy fantasy, all for me. I lock down a hard shudder that threatens to work through my body.

"Tell me what you want, Trin."

"You. I want your big, rough hands all over me. I want you to take me. Hard."

My mouth goes dry. "I can do that."

"I know you can." She beckons me closer. "First, come here."

It's awkward, but she gets me in the middle of the bed and strips off my shirt. Slowly, admiring every bit.

She keeps her eyes on mine while she works my shorts off. "Weren't you cold in shorts?" she asks as she tosses them on the floor.

"Nope. I'm always hot when I'm around you."

She laughs at the silly line. I'd laugh too, but she's curled her fingers around my dick and I can't form any sounds. Each slide of her palm shifts my entire world.

Next, she drags her tongue along the head of my cock, unhinging my fucking mind. At my sides, my fists clench and release. I sprawl one hand across the nape of her neck, then back off.

She pulls back and lifts her lips in a sultry smile. "Don't hold back."

After the funeral things return to normal around the clubhouse. I divide my time between helping Wrath out, taking care of the clubhouse, my book covers and planning an engagement party for Hope and Rock.

They haven't set an actual wedding date yet, but we nail down a date for the engagement party and the menu. Hope is oddly impressed with my party planning skills and leaves most of it up to me. I want everything to be perfect for the two of them.

Taking care of Wrath means running him to the gym to oversee things, physical therapy and doctor appointments.

And stopping him from killing the doctor when he says he has to keep the cast on at least another week.

"You said that last week!" he snaps.

The doctor isn't impressed by Wrath's outburst. I can't decide if that makes him brave or stupid.

"I understand, but we want it to heal correctly," he says with the same tone one would use on a rowdy toddler.

Wrath's agitated for more reasons than just the cast. He admits it while we're on our way home. "Sparky's crop is sick. We're fucked."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Our connection's been up in our business for weeks now and this is making it worse."

"Anything I can do?"

"No. I just wanted you to be aware. Don't want you going out by yourself."

"You think they'd bother me?"

"No. But I still want you to be careful."

"Okay." I don't press for more details. That's not how our relationship works.

Sure enough, Wrath gets called in for church later that night. He's weary when he returns.

"No one likes it when I play devil's advocate," he sighs as he lies down next to me.

"Aw, poor Wyatt," I tease.

"Damn right."

I'm glad Wrath warned me, because the guys are all on edge. At least I know why. I try to make myself as invisible as possible.

While he says things are fine, I still sense a lot of tension in the clubhouse. Wrath's more fidgety than normal. I know he's eager to get back to being the muscle for the club.

At his next appointment, the doctor takes another X-ray and spends a lot of time checking Wrath's leg over.

"Okay, Mr. Ramsey, I'm going to call the cast tech in to remove the cast."

Wrath looks so damn hopeful I almost laugh.

"Is it staying off?" he asks.

"Well, I'll do another examination of your leg when it's off, but I think so."

"Thank God."

Butterflies zip and dance around in my stomach.

"You need physical therapy. No driving for another three to six weeks."

I expect Wrath to blow up, but he nods and grabs my hand. "I've gotten used to my chauffeur."

That's sweet and I'm not sure what to say.

As usual, Wrath kicks me out when the cast tech enters the room. "I'm going to see it eventually," I remind him. He smirks and still sends me on my way.

While I wait, I text Rock and Z to give them the good news. I get a smiley face back from Z right away, but nothing from Rock.

When Wrath finally emerges, he's lost both the cast and his cocky grin. He has, however been outfitted with a cane.

I wiggle my eyebrows at him. "Sexy."

One corner of his mouth lifts.

"Are you happy?" I ask once we're on our way home.

"Yes. I've got a long list of positions I need to fuck you in."

My skin simmers with heat. A glance at the dashboard shows that, no, the heat's not on. It's all Wrath and what his dirty words do to me.

"Besides that?" I ask.

He huffs out a low laugh. "Yeah, angel. Pissed I won't be able to ride for a while."

"We'll get you set up with the physical therapist-"

"I know." He reaches over and squeezes my upper thigh. "I'm more concerned with making my announcement."

Why do those words make my skin tingle?

"Youyou still want to do that?"

"Fuck yeah, babe."

My heart bangs so hard, it might jump out of my chest.

Z meets us at the front door to give Wrath a big welcome home hug and back slap. "When can we ride, brother?"

"Six to eight weeks," Wrath grumbles.

"Fuck man, really?"

I don't bother correcting Wrath. I figure he has his reasons for giving the wrong time frame and if he wants to tell me, he will.

Trinity seemed less than enthused when I reminded her of my plans to announce our relationship.

Too bad. She's the one who said to wait until the cast is off. Well, it's fuckin' off. Nothing's gonna stop me from claiming my girl now.

Rock looks like fuckin' shit the next morning. "What's up with you?" I ask as he drops into the chair across from me.

"Where's Hope?" Z asks. "Second morning without her here. I miss the little ball-buster."

I shoot a look at Z who's apparently completely sincere.

Something's seriously wrong. Rock's got his I'm-going-to-gut-all-of-you face on. He usually saves that one for special occasions.

"We're taking a break," he announces without looking at any of us.

Fuck me.

Z's face darkens. "What the fuck does that mean?" he asks. Huh. I never pegged Z for the suicidal type.

Rock tips his head up and drills a murderous look at Z. "It means exactly what I said. What do you need explained?"

Trinity gets up and leaves the table.

"Sorry, brother," I say.

He turns his angry glare on me. "What are you sorry about? Thought you'd be thrilled."

"Come on, man-"