Page 47 of Claimed By the Bikers
I’m screaming, but no sound comes out. I’m running, but my feet won’t move. I’m reaching for a gun that isn’t there, trying to fight enemies who are already gone.
“Garrett. Garrett, wake up.”
Hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently. A voice that’s familiar but wrong, not Sarah’s voice, not Katie’s laughter.
I come up swinging, muscle memory taking over before consciousness fully returns. My fist connects with something solid, and there’s a sharp intake of breath.
“Fuck. Garrett, it’s me. It’s Ember.”
The fog clears slowly. My bedroom, not the house I lost twenty years ago. Moonlight through windows, not the harshfluorescents of a crime scene. And Ember sitting beside me on the bed, one hand pressed to her cheek where I caught her with my knuckles.
“Christ. Did I hurt you?” I reach for her face, but she catches my wrist gently.
“I’m fine. Just surprised me.”
“I could have broken your jaw.”
“But you didn’t.” She releases my wrist and touches my cheek instead, thumb stroking across skin that’s damp with sweat. “You were dreaming.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for having nightmares. Apologize for trying to handle them alone. What do you need?” she asks again.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” Her hand slides down to rest over my heart, where it’s still pounding against my ribs. “Tell me what you need, Garrett.”
The truth comes out before I can stop it. “I need to feel alive. I need to remember that I survived for a reason.”
“What reason?”
“This. You. Atlas and Silas and the family we’ve built.” I cover her hand with mine, holding it against my chest. “I need to know it’s worth it.”
“Then let me show you.”
She moves before I can process what’s happening, swinging one leg over my hips to straddle me. The flannel shirt she was wearing hits the floor, and suddenly she’s naked in the moonlight, all soft curves and pale skin.
“Ember—”
“Shh.” She leans down to kiss me, and I taste determination on her lips. “Let me take care of you.”
Her mouth moves down my neck, teeth scraping sensitive skin, while her hands work at the drawstring of my sleep pants.
I want to stop her, but when she wraps her fingers around me, all rational thought disappears.
“You’re alive,” she whispers against my collarbone. “You’re here with me, in this bed, in this moment. That’s all that matters.”
She takes me inside her slowly, and the feeling of being surrounded by her heat, her softness, her strength, drives away the last shadows of the nightmare. This is real. This is now. This is worth surviving for.
“Move,” I growl, hands gripping her hips.
“Not yet.” She stills completely, holding me deep inside her. “Look at me, Garrett. See who’s here with you.”
I force my eyes open, meeting her gaze in the dim light. Green eyes full of fierce love, dark hair falling around her shoulders like a curtain. Not Sarah. Not a ghost or a memory or a dream. Ember. Mine.
“There you are,” she breathes. “Now show me you’re alive.”
I flip us over in one smooth motion, pinning her beneath me on the mattress. She gasps, back arching as I drive deeper, harder, desperate to lose myself in the feeling of being connected to her.
