Page 88 of Angel

“You make me feel too,” I tell him, still nestled into his neck.

He presses his lips to my shoulder, holding them against my bare skin. Then he walks us over to the bed and gently places me on his scent-filled sheets. “I’ll be right back.”

I tuck myself in, never wanting to leave. It feels right, being here. For the first time, something’s… perfect. I pull the sheet over my nose and inhale—a woodsy smell. I look up, not realizing he’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, causing his muscles to bulge. Shirtless. Boxers only. And my eyes are glued.

“Were you just sniffing my sheets?” He smirks and ambles forward.

“Maybe.”

“Come here.” He slides in next to me and tugs me to him. With his back to the headboard, I snuggle into his chest—his warm, stone-like chest—his arm draped around me. “I can’t promise I’ll always be perfect for you. I’m not a member of your club. I’m the President of the Skulls, and we’re not Boy Scouts, Angel. There’s going to be things that are dangerous. People might come after me, come after those I care about.”

“With everything we’ve been through, it’ll be a piece of cake, whatever comes our way. We make a great team, Deacon. You and me.”

He kisses my forehead, and I melt. “I want you to live with me. Here. Someday. Not right now. You’re too independent, and this is still new to me. But I want you to live with me when you’re ready, okay?”

I smile. Of course, I would want to live with him. In the future. Baby steps. “I would love that.”

He kisses me again, and I feel myself drifting off. This is exactly where I want to be. Nowhere else.

He saved me. From my secrets. And myself.

EPILOGUE

Two months later

Angel

“That’s perfect, ladies. Your form is really progressing.” I watch with a smile as my group of women perform the light-weight squats. “And remember: knees do not extend past your feet.”

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” Tequila shouts from the floor.

“Good, that’s the whole idea. No pain, no gain.”

“You’re the devil.”

“I know.” I wink. “Okay, ladies, the last set’s finished. Good job! Next class will be the same time on Friday.”

The seven women from my strength-training class all walk out, and Tequila wobbles up to me. “You know, I think I’m really starting to gain an ass.”

“You already had an ass.” I laugh.

“True, but now it’s tighter.” She winks and grabs her bag. “I’ll catch you later, girl. I don’t want to be late for Throttle’s race.”

“You never miss his motocross meets, do you?”

“Not one.” She smiles and walks out, leaving me alone in the gym.

I grab my things and head for the locker rooms. Tank lets me hold my classes here three times a week. It’s always been what I wanted to do. Make women stronger. Make them feel stronger. And they don’t need their sexuality in order to do it. They can be empowered all on their own. Sometimes we just need a little help.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I walk out and shrug on my leather. I skid to a stop when I see Venom. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his black slim jeans hugging his thighs. And my body tingles. He’s beautiful, sexy, and he’s mine.

“Well, hey, handsome. You here for me?” I stride toward him, and he pushes off the wall.

“Always.” He stalks over to me, closing the distance between us, and grabs my waist, pulling me against him. His warm body engulfs mine as he captures my mouth with his. I fist his leather cut and then wrap my arms around his back, tracing his freshly sewn patch. We started a new tradition, one that doesn’t include “property of” on our leather. Instead, it reads our names. Mine says: Venom. And his says: Angel.

“You know, this better be enough to get rid of all those hang-arounds on your lap at your club.”

“Same goes for you, peach. Any man so much as looks at you, and I want to hear about it.” He strokes my hair, cradling my face against his chest. Heat rises on my cheeks. Never have I blushed so hard for anyone before. “I love you, my angel, my savior”

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