Page 49 of Axle
“Finish it,” I told them as I holstered my gun. Then I turned and left it all behind.
Outside, the horizon had the first thin streaks of dawn painted across it. My bike waited patiently where I’d left her. I swung a leg over, fired up the engine, then rolled.
The trees blurred, the air pummeled, and the world narrowed to the hum of my ride and the knowledge that the woman I loved was waiting in our bed. The next time her mouth said yes, it would be when I put my vest over her shoulders and told her what I hoped she already knew. Then she’d be screaming it while I claimed every part of her, inside and out.
The road back to the clubhouse felt shorter than the one here because ahead of me, there was a life that looked nothing like the one I’d planned and everything like something a man would give his last breath protecting.
20
ASHLYNN
Curled up cross-legged on the common room couch, my new iPad was balanced against my knee while I sketched. Mason had gone all-out when he bought it for me—bigger screen, sharper resolution, and a fantastic stylus.
I’d only meant to distract myself when I sat down with it, but I’d quickly lost track of time. I was absorbed in the curve of a jawline I was perfecting when a voice broke through my concentration.
“Holy crap, you drew that?”
I jumped and twisted around, surprised to see Savannah in the common room so early in the morning. She raised a brow and I flashed her a sheepish smile. “Yup.”
“You have some serious skills.” She leaned over the back of the couch, studying the screen in awe. “And that iPad is awesome.”
“It’s a huge upgrade from the one I have at home,” I admitted. “And Jax made sure this one’s locked down tighter than Fort Knox so nobody can track me through it.”
“Sounds about right.” She nudged my arm with a grin. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I’ve only known Mason for about amonth, but I can already tell that he’s different with you. In a good way.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled, the warmth in my chest making my hands go still over the screen.
“You thinking about doing something with that talent?” a deeper voice cut in. I turned my head and found Blitz leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “The Hounds of Hellfire—club up in Tennessee we have ties with. One of their old ladies writes romance. Might know publishing folks who’d be into your work, if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in. I’m sure the prez or Axle would be willin’ to reach out for you.”
The offer caught me off guard. I’d been so wrapped up in surviving the past few weeks that I hadn’t let myself imagine what came next, besides having Mason’s baby. But the idea of doing something with my art again, of building something that wasn’t just running from danger, lit a tiny spark inside me. “Thank you for thinking of it. That would be amazing.”
Blitz dipped his chin in agreement. “Mention it to your man, he’ll take it from there.”
There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice—just quiet certainty that Mason would handle it. “Yeah, I will.”
Blitz’s phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from our conversation. One glance at the screen, and a knowing gleam lit his eyes. “They’re almost here.”
Savannah sighed, looking relieved. But it was like someone flipped a switch in me. Excitement surged first, relief right behind it, but there was a tight little knot of nerves tangled up in both. I’d been telling myself the whole time Mason was gone that I’d be fine as soon as I saw him, but now that moment was actually coming, my pulse wouldn’t slow down. Possibly because his instructions for how he wanted me to be waiting for him were burning in the back of my mind.
Naked and in his bed.
If I was going to be Mason’s old lady, I wasn’t going to half-ass it. And I wanted that property patch he offered me more than anything.
So I tucked my iPad under my arm, murmured a quick goodbye to Savannah and Blitz, and headed upstairs.
I’d see him in minutes, and I needed to be ready to welcome him home. That was the only ending I’d accept—Mason walking through that door, safe and mine.
When the door shut behind me, I set my iPad on the dresser and let my gaze sweep over the room that I’d started thinking of as ours, not just his. The bedspread was still rumpled from this morning, and the space felt more lived in than that first day. Like we’d already started to build a life together. One we would cement when Mason officially made me his old lady. Soon.
I stripped out of my clothes, dropping them in a careless pile on the chair. My gaze caught on the leather vest draped over the back — his property patch sewn into it. For half a second, I imagined slipping it on now, feeling the weight of it over my bare skin before he walked in. But he’d been very specific about what he wanted. Me, naked and in bed, waiting for him.
So I left it there for him to put on me himself and did what he asked.
I slid under the covers, my heart hammering in anticipation. Every creak of the building and muffled sound from the hallway made my pulse jump. Then the latch finally clicked.
The door swung open, and Mason filled the frame. His eyes locked on me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet finality, his gaze never leaving mine. I drank him in like I was memorizing what was mine to keep. As he stripped out of his clothes, my fingers itched to draw the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. And I licked my lips at the thought of tracing his tattoos with my tongue.
