Page 99 of Texas Hold Em'
“One of these nights, I’m going to take your ass,” he breathed, his breath hot against my neck, his fingers knotted in my hair.
I strained against the pleasure as he thrust inside me, deep and slow. “Take whatever you want. I’m yours.”
Tex ran a hand across my throat. “Anticipation is half the fun.”
I shuddered beneath him.
He left kisses on my neck where his hand had been and moved his lips to my ear. “I love you, baby.”
I smiled. “I love you too.”
He bucked hard, his cock filling me up. I cried out in pleasure as I broke, and his orgasm followed seconds behind mine. We both fell apart, panting and smiling, and stared up at the ceiling. I wondered if he had the same worries as me or if the constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop lifestyle had become normal for him.
I felt his eyes on me.
“Yes?” I asked.
“What are you thinking about?”
I licked my lips. Did he want the real answer?
I was thinking about how much time we had left and how it would all end. I was thinking about Sam and Jackson and the secret baby in her belly that hardly a soul knew about. I was thinking about the eye in my dream and the real-life man it belonged to, somewhere out there in the world, wishing me dead.
I rolled over to face Tex and smiled. “How lucky I am to be yours.”
He pulled me to him for sweet kisses that left me tingling and wanting him all over again. “I’m the lucky one. You’re sure that’s all?”
I nodded and ran a hand down his chest. “Well, there’s one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Jackson will let me ride with the MC?”
Tex rolled onto his back and laughed at the ceiling. “Don’t push your luck, Hart.”
I savored his laughter as it rolled through me and let it replace the echo of Bates’s voice.
You should have killed him.
I nodded toward the hall. “Join me in the shower?”
Tex grabbed my ass. “After I smoke.”
“Ah, of course. I’ll start the water. Don’t take too long.” I rolled out of bed and strode naked out of the room. “I need you.”
EPILOGUE
ABEL
The sun had gone down by the time I pulled into the Well’s parking lot at half past seven, but the stars weren’t out yet. The night had that in-between feeling where it hadn’t cooled off and it wasn’t dark yet, but both of those things were around the corner. Brody, who sat in my passenger seat, leaned forward, straining against his seatbelt, and peered up at the wrap-around porch of the bar. Roughly two dozen people milled around the outdoor smoking tables, and five or six of them looked to be in line to get into the bar.
That the place was busy on opening night was a good sign.
I swung the truck around and reversed into a stall on the other side of the lot. Gone was the old gravel that used to bite into the tires and prove a bit of a nuisance to bikes. I’d seen more than a handful of guys dump their brand-new Harleys because of loose gravel. Poor bastards. Now, everything was fresh with new blacktop and clean, yellow-painted lines. Four handicap parking stalls sat right in front of the porch steps. The porch itself was nicely lit, with hanging lanterns on each support beam and string lights from rafter to rafter.
“The place looks busy,” Brody noted.
“Sam must have her hands full,” I said.
