Page 77 of Hidden

“Good. Because I’ve been waiting for fucking years to do this.”

The world stopped turning, growing quiet and still, shrinking until there was nothing but me and Luke. He lowered his head, and without a single second of hesitation, his lips captured my own, kissing me with an intensity and possessiveness that took my breath away.

My hands gripped his shoulders, kissing him back with everything I had. This was everything I had imagined it would be and more. His lips were soft and yet firm, taking control of the kiss. His other hand came up to join the other, cupping my face, and he angled my head in the direction he wanted, deepening the kiss with a feral growl.

I sighed into his mouth, opening my lips wider, allowing him to sweep his tongue along mine.

He groaned as I met his tongue with my own, and it gave me the confidence I needed. Taking his lower lip between my teeth, I playfully bit down before sweeping my tongue along the sting of my bite.

“Does that answer all your questions?” he asked, pulling away slightly and resting his forehead against mine.

“I don’t think I heard you fully. You might need to tell me again,” I grinned, and then squealed in delight as he pressed his lips against mine once more. Although this time, it wasn’t as sweet. This time, he came to play. His hand dropped, squeezing my ass at the same time as his teeth did the nibbling. My head tipped back, and he saw that as his opportunity to run his tonguealong my neck, right up to my ear, where he also nibbled on my lobe.

“Luke,” I breathed, pressing my body further against his.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he breathed down my ear. “And this will go further than you thought.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I matter,” he answered instantly, and my heart immediately skipped a beat.

“You’ve always mattered to me, Luke. I never want there to be a day when you’re not in my life.”

“I’ll always be here, Gabby. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I teased.

He just grinned wickedly at me in response.

Over the years, he would prove that it was both a threat and a promise. There was no getting rid of him, even when I pushed him away. Even when I hurt him. Even when I ripped his heart out, stomped all over it, and took his future with me.

He was always there. He was always mine.

I just stopped choosing us.

Chapter 23

Gabriella

Now

By the time Nico finally let me crawl back to my room, the house had long since fallen quiet.

Not truly quiet, of course. Nothing in this place was ever truly quiet. Somewhere downstairs, a floorboard creaked beneath heavy boots. A door slammed in the distance. Male laughter drifted faintly through the walls, low and ugly, followed by the shrill giggle of one of the newer girls. There was always noise here. Always some reminder that no one slept peacefully under this roof. Not really.

But it was quieter than it had been earlier, and after the kind of day I’d had, that counted as a blessing.

I pushed the bedroom door shut behind me, leaning my weight against the wood for a second as the latch clicked into place. My whole body throbbed. My shoulder burned where I had been shoved into the wall, my scalp still stung from where Nico had yanked me across the room by my hair, and there was a deep, pulsing ache low in my ribs from a kick I had been given when one of the girls dropped a bottle of whisky in the kitchen.

It had shattered across the tiles. She’d frozen a split second too long instead of rushing to clean up her mistake. The next moment, huge hands had grabbed at her, and she’d been dragged away to the basement before I could even think to take the blame for it.

But I’d paid the price anyway.

That was the way of things here. One girl made a mistake, and I suffered for it. If they whispered too loudly, held one of the bikers’ gazes too long, a hand shaking at the wrong moment… everything had a cost. Every inconvenience needed blood to settle it, and because I was his old lady, because I was the one standing closest, because I was the one he most enjoyed breaking, the debt almost always landed at my feet.

Or on my skin.

Or between my legs.