We moved together, finding a rhythm that started gentle and grew desperate, her hips meeting mine thrust for thrust.I kissed her throat, her jaw, her mouth, tasting sweat and wanting more, always more.She urged me on.Her voice broken as she cried out my name, andyesandthereandharderspilling out of her like she couldn’t stop them.
I shifted my angle, and she cried out, her head snapping back, her body going rigid beneath me.“There,” she gasped.“Right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
I didn’t.I kept the pace, kept the pressure, watching her unravel and feeling her tighten around me with every stroke.She came first, her body seizing, her cry loud and unrestrained.Her nails drew lines down my back that I knew I’d wear proudly tomorrow.I followed her over, burying myself deep and groaning her name into her neck.My vision whited out, and my whole world narrowed to the pulse of her around me.To the heat of her, and the way she said my name like a prayer.
After, we lay tangled together with her head on my chest and my hand tracing lazy patterns on her hip, back, and anywhere I could reach.The room smelled like us, like sex and sweat and satisfaction, the air still thick with it.Her breathing slowed, matched mine, and I felt the moment she pressed a kiss to my shoulder, felt the curve of her smile against my skin.
“Again?”she asked, soft and hopeful, her fingers drawing idle circles on my stomach.
I laughed, low and satisfied, my chest rumbling beneath her cheek.“You’re insatiable, babe.Give me ten minutes.”
She bit my shoulder, playful, her teeth sharp and promising.“Five,” she countered.
I rolled her under me, pinning her wrists above her head, and she laughed, bright and happy, her eyes shining up at me.“Greedy,” I accused.
“Only for you.”
I kissed her, slow and thorough, and started counting down.
Chapter Eighteen
Goldie
I woke up warm, but not regular warm.
Wheels warm.
For a few seconds, I didn’t move.I just stayed tucked against him with my cheek pressed to his chest and one leg tangled with his beneath the sheets.His arm was heavy around my waist, holding me close even in sleep, and his heartbeat thumped steady beneath my ear.
I smiled before I opened my eyes.
That was new.
Not the waking up part.I’d been doing that for years, obviously.But waking up and not immediately feeling like the world was waiting outside the door with a baseball bat?
That was new.
The last few weeks had started with panic.
My eyes snapped open.
My stomach tightened.
My brain was already running through every document, every email, every suspicious signature, every fake company name that had slowly turned my normal life into something I barely recognized.
This morning, I woke up in a biker clubhouse, wrapped around a man who looked like trouble and felt like safety.
Life was downright weird.
Wheels shifted under me as his arm tightened for half a second before relaxing again.
I lifted my head enough to look at him.
He was still asleep.His beard was a little rougher this morning, his hair messy from my fingers and the pillow, and one arm was thrown above his head like he had finally let himself fully pass out.The man had spent days watching me, protecting me, sleeping in chairs and on top of blankets like some stubborn caveman with manners.Last night, he had finally slept.
Really slept.
A tiny burst of satisfaction warmed my chest.
