Page 16 of Her Outlaw Biker
Now I’m in the desert. The sun’s a harsh, unforgiving blaze overhead. My mouth is dry. My hands are bloody.
There’s a pistol in my grip.
Clover stands across from me. Her white dress is stained red. Her hands are raised like she’s trying to calm me, but there’s fear in her eyes, real, gut-wrenching fear.
“Please,” she whispers. “Don’t.”
I scream, try to throw the gun away, but it won’t move. My finger’s locked to the trigger.
I pull it.
The sound splits the world apart.
She falls.
I lunge forward, too late, always too fucking late…
I wake up choking.
My chest heaves like I’ve been drowning. Sweat trickles down my neck, soaking into the sheets. My heart is beating like a jackhammer in my rib cage. For a second, I don’t know where I am. My hands reach instinctively for a weapon that’s not there.
Then I see her.
Clover.
She’s still asleep, curled up on her side, hair a golden mess against my pillow, one arm tucked under her cheek like a kid. The sheet’s slipped low around her hips, baring the curve of her back and the sensuous dip of her ass.
I sit up slowly, raking a hand through my hair, swallowing the sour taste of guilt still coating my tongue. I’ve had nightmares every night since I left the military, but none has ever scared me like this. I forgot what fear really felt like until right now. Not just because of the past I can never outrun, but because for the first time in a long time, I have something to lose.
Now, I care…
My jaw tightens.
“Fuck me,” I mutter with a ragged sigh.
Outside, the storm’s finally died. The world beyond these thin trailer walls is breathless in that eerie way deserts get after rain. Like the earth’s holding its breath.
Inside, everything’s different.
Inside, I’m not sure what the hell is happening to me. I drag myself to the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor, bracing my elbows on my knees. I watch Clover sleep, her breath coming out in soft, rhythmic pants.
She looks so damn young like this…too young, too soft for this world she finds herself in.
Too damn good for a man like me.
Yet…she let me touch her. Let me take her. Gave me a kind of trust I didn’t ask for and sure as hell didn’t deserve.
Her first time.
Christ.
I close my eyes, dragging a hand down my face. I should feel guilty. Should feel like the bastard I am for letting it happen. But I don’t. I feel…possessive. Grounded. Like something inside me finally locked into place the second I slid into her heat and she whispered my name like she meant it.
I didn’t just take her body last night. I claimed her.
And she doesn’t even know it yet. Hell, maybe I didn’t know it either until now, but it’s as real as the blood in my veins.
She’s mine.
