"No problem." Over his shoulder I catch the headline scrolling across the screen. Local Gang Member's Body Dragged From Hudson River.

Guys stream in all afternoon. A couple of brothers from downstate even show up. Z leaves after church. The situation can't be too dire, because things turn into a party as the night goes on. Someone brings a bunch of girls up. A few I don't recognize and briefly wonder if they're even legal.

Rock disappears upstairs as soon as someone turns the music up. I hate how miserable he's been since Hope left.

As I'm running around bringing out food and drinks, Wrath calls me over.

He's sitting next to Teller. My gaze darts between the two of them, trying to figure out what's up. "Yeah?"

He pats his lap and pulls me down. "I think you're done. Let the prospects take care of things," he says against my ear.

"But-"

A quick shake of his head cuts off any protest. Teller chuckles uncomfortably.

"Who's responsible for bringing up the barely legal crowd?" I ask him, nodding at the two girls putting on a show in the middle of the room.

Teller's mouth twists into a smirk. "They're legal. They go to school with Axel."

Okay. That surprises me. I've never seen Axel's gaze stray a centimeter from Heidi. Then I laugh, wondering if it's his way of distracting Murphy from Heidi. "I thought he was going for diesel mechanics? They got girls in that program?"

He laughs at my question. "No clue. Hot, female, diesel mechanics, though? They'll probably make a fortune."

I roll my eyes.

"You should take them up to visit Rock," Wrath suggests.

I twist to glare at him.

Teller shrugs. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"No, seriously. He's been miserable. Maybe it will help him get his head out of his ass. Or at the very least give him some stress relief."

With another shrug, Teller gets up and talks to the two girls.

"What's the matter with you?" I ask Wrath. His eyebrows shoot up. "Do not make your cute Who me? face, either, Wyatt. I'm serious. Why would you do that?"

He can't stop laughing long enough to answer.

"You're such a jerk. He'll probably kill Teller and scare the shit out of those poor girls."

Sure enough, a couple minutes later the girls come running back downstairs.

"Let's go to bed, Angel Face. I've had enough excitement for one day."

"You know I feel like an epic douche, right?" I grumble as Trinity crouches down to snap another pic.

She flashes a devious grin. "Why, 'cause you just said, 'epic'?"

I grumble some more at that. This is my reward for finally taking my bike out. I wasn't comfortable going too far, so Trinity and I decided Fletcher Park was enough of a ride. I didn't think anything of it when she grabbed all her camera equipment.

Then she reminded me that I said I might let her take some photos of me for her book covers.

"The important word there was might, angel."

Somehow she talks me into it.

At first it's not so bad, having her fawning all over me. Snapping photo after photo. Me on my bike, next to my bike, arms crossed over my chest, hands on my hips, nose in my armpit, whatever. The grin on her face keeps me motivated. Until she asks me to strip off my T-shirt and throw my cut back on.

I cock my head at her. "You realize no self-respecting outlaw would ride bare-chested with his cut on, right?"

Her musical laughter relaxes me. I find myself in the ridiculous pose, even though I feel like a complete jackass.

She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, but think of all the panties you'll melt."

"Only panties I'm worried about melting are yours, babe."

"I'm not wearing any panties, Wyatt."

Fuck me.

"Prove it."

"Uh-uh. We don't have much daylight left."

Bending over she flashes me an eyeful of cleavage. I'm pretty sure she wore the tight, button-up vest shirt for my benefit. It definitely distracted me when she was talking me into this.

Every time she leans over or moves the right way, I get a nice flash of the creamy swells of her breasts spilling out of the top or glimpses of flat stomach when she stands. It's been enough to keep me from complaining so far.

"What the fuck is that for?" I ask as she approaches me with a bottle of baby oil.

"I want to oil you up."

"Are you serious?"

Her bottom lip pushes into that sexy fucking pout that makes me agree to do stupid things. "Fine," I mumble.

Her warm hands feel good rubbing the slippery crap into my skin. She pays extra attention to my arms and chest. When she's finished, she plants a kiss on my cheek and darts away.

"Can you turn away? Look pensive and thoughtful."

"You promised you'd crop my face out," I say as I turn the way she asked.

"I will, I just need you from chin to crotch."

She gives me a bunch more directions, and at a certain point, I realize she's fucking with me.

"Come here, Angel Face."

She must sense my less than honorable intentions, because she carefully packs her camera away and slips one of the straps of the backpack over her shoulder. Towel in hand, she approaches. After wiping the baby oil off, she slips my cut down my arms and hands me my shirt. I give it a quick tug, and she topples into my lap.

"Gotcha." My fingers brush against some loose strands of hair, tucking them behind her ear.

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "I think I got some great shots. Thank you for doing this for me."

She's suddenly so serious.

"Only you could talk me into this, Trin. That's how much I love you."

My words seem to stress her out, rather than make her happy.

"Thank you."

Am I annoyed that she still can't admit she loves me? Yeah. Am I going to make a big deal out of it and pick a fight? Fuck, no.

She takes a step back, sticks her hand in her pocket and fidgets with something.

"I've, um, been carrying this around for a while now. To give you." She hands over a folded up piece of paper.

"What is it, angel?"

Her eyes gloss over. "I-"

Unfolding it, I see what she's written and my chest tightens.

Shit. I'm actually choked up and can't form any words. Instead, I hold out my arms and she throws herself against me.

"I'm sorry I'm so messed up, Wyatt."

"You're not messed up, baby. Or if you are, you're my kind of messed up."

"Thank you," she mumbles against my shirt.

"You gonna let me claim you now? Tell everyone you're my girl?"

She freezes, then nods. "Yes."

Finally.

"Let's go home."

What an afternoon. Like a scared little girl, I finally gave Wrath my note. I'm still stinging from humiliation because I can't just say the words.

But he doesn't press me any further. In his eyes, I see my words affected him. There's a fierce protectiveness mixed with surprising tenderness. It makes me feel safe and vulnerable at the same time.

In my room, his hands travel over the contours of my body. I'm able to push away all thoughts about tomorrow or the announcement Wrath wants to make. My only thoughts are of where his hands are and what I want to do to him.

He lowers his mouth to mine. Our lips meet, the kiss hard and demanding. I need that edge, the possessiveness that my body responds to.

"I love kissing you," he murmurs as he pulls away, trailing kisses down my jaw, nuzzling my neck. "You teased the fuck out of me with this shirt today."

As he says it, his hands work the three buttons loose. I'd hesitated this morning, since it was more revealing than I normally dared, but obviously the shirt was a good choice. My fingers creep under the hem of his shirt. "No fair, you've been looking at me all day," he teases.

He lets me strip it off anyway, and I stop to admire him.

"Love the way you look at me, angel."

"I love looking at you."

"What do you want?"

"I want to taste you," I say as I nudge him over to the bed.

"Trinity-"

"Please?" I beg with a sly grin on my face.

I run my hand down his chest and over the very large bulge in his pants. He groans and I love how his breathing increases. Unzipping his pants, I drop to my knees in front of him.

This has never been my favorite thing. With one or two forced exceptions, I've held fast to my rule. Never on my knees. It's too powerless. Reminds me of a time when I had no control at all. Over anything.

With Wyatt, things have been different from our very first night together. Kneeling before him, I feel invincible, sexy, beautiful, and in complete control. He likes me to keep my eyes on him. Angel eyes he calls them. If anyone else called me that, I'd laugh, but not Wyatt.

He means it.

His deep blue eyes focus on me as I pleasure him. Every lick, suck and flick of my tongue registers across his face. A soft hiss when I take him deep sends a rush of arousal through me. Something I've never experienced while using my mouth on a man. His heavy breathing makes me want to please him, to take him right to the back of my throat. In and out. Salty pre-cum hits my tongue and I lap it up. He's close to blowing and that sends a shudder of pleasure through me.

It's a struggle to keep my eyes up and focused, but I do it because I know how much he enjoys it. I want to sink into the sensation of teasing and tasting him, but this isn't for me. He gasps for air, but keeps his eyes locked on mine. He's frightening in his intensity, but somehow I feel like the one in charge.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Does he expect me to answer? His tone is so serious. Not just sexy talk. I nod once. I do feel pretty under him. He makes me feel a lot of things.

A deep breath lifts his muscled chest. "You're all mine, Angel Face."

Damn, I want to be his. I really do.

"That's right. Taste every part of me. This is the only cock in your mouth and I'm the only man you're fucking from now on." His rough voice surrounds me. The possessive, crude words stir up an ache that only he's ever been able to soothe.

I hum and nod and his cock twitches. Up and down I slide my mouth over him, swirling my tongue over his head, then taking him as far as I can go. With someone else I might feel debased, but his worshipful gaze holds all my usual insecurities and fears at bay. In his eyes I see a promise to protect and cherish me.

My nails dig into the back of his hard thighs. His hands thread through my hair, tightening as he takes control of the pace.

"Get ready." His low, deep voice sounds almost primal. I love it.

If anyone else showed me that raw, brutal intensity, I'd probably run screaming from the room. But even when we've been enemies, Wrath has always treated my body-if not my heart-carefully.

"Fuck," he grinds out. His rasping voice has my eyes rolling back in my head.