Page 23 of Embracing Easy

“Shit,” I manage through my labored breathing. My body is covered in sweat, and the sheets are tangled around my legs.

It was just a dream.

“Shit,” I say again, slowly inhaling deep breaths and releasing them, trying to slow down my heartbeat.

Lexi stirs beside me, reminding me that I’m not alone. I glance down at her head on my shoulder, her blonde hair spilling across the pillow, then lower to the soft look on her face as she sleeps peacefully, tucked against my side.

Her hand is pressed to my chest over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel it trying to break out of my chest.

I run my fingers through my sweaty hair. I shouldn’t have started this with her. She deserves better.

It doesn’t matter now, though.

I’ve tasted her, felt her come around my cock, and there’s no way I’m giving her up now.

Running my fingers through my hair again, she makes a small sound in her sleep and burrows closer.

That blind trust she gives so freely hits me like a punch to the gut. She climbed right into my bed, trusting me to take care of her, and that is exactly what I was going to do.

The thought should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn't. All it does is make me want to protect her and keep that part of her safe.

On this thought, I carefully extract myself from under her.

Lexi grunts in protest but burrows into my pillow when I tuck the blanket around her shoulders.

Mine.

The thought plays on repeat in my head as I pull on a clean pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt.

Time to get the ball rolling and handle this shit for my woman.

Grabbing an old receipt from the bedside table, I scrawl out a quick note:

Gone to the clubhouse. Stay here. I'll bring back breakfast.

-E

Folding it up, I place it on my pillow next to her, gently press my lips to her forehead, and head for the door.

After everything she told me last night and the history of bullshit that seems to follow the women who get tangled up with a Saint, I know in my gut I have to get ahead of this John fucker before he shows up looking for trouble.

When I arrive at the clubhouse, the lot is mostly empty; only a few bikes scattered around.

Makes sense. It's barely after eight in the morning, but spotting Wrath's bike next to Viper’s, I head for the door hoping he’s here.

Sure enough, when I step inside, I find him at the bar, nursing what looks like whiskey but is probably just coffee in a rocks glass. He looks up as I approach, his face twisting into something that resembles a smile.

“You're here early,” he says, that gravelly tone sounding rougher today from lack of sleep.

“I could say the same about you.” I laugh, moving around the bar to fix myself a cup of coffee.

“Thorn and I just got in.”

I pop a brow. “Jacksonville?”

Wrath nods.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

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