Attraction?
Something else?
“You’ll never need to fear me, Graycie-girl,” he rumbles against my skin. He sighs, his words landing somewhere between right and desire, “You should get some sleep.”
My hips twitch. Seeking. Wanting.
“I’m not tired,” my words are breathy.
And a lie. Because I am tired. Exhausted really.
I’m also wired and I don’t think I can sleep. Not with the memory of his touch on my skin. The way he touched the scar on my torso. Reverence.
I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like that. For him to touch my shame in such a way? I want to feel it again.
“I need you, Turner,” my words are like a gong in the quiet of the room.
My man goes completely solid underneath me, every muscle in his body readying. Preparing. Coiling.
His fingers tighten and he yanks me just far enough away from him to look into my eyes. The movement is jarring and my scalp stings slightly, but I welcome the sensation. It reminds me that I’m alive. That I’m here.
In Turner’s arms. Where no one and nothing can touch me.
“Graycie,” he growls, the sound rattling my chest like windowpanes, “you better be careful what you ask for. I’vewanted to bury myself in you since the moment you stepped out the backdoor of the clubhouse. I’ve imagined it in a thousand different ways. And I’m pissed at the bastard who thought he could hurt you.” His voice drops to a pained whisper, “I never want to hurt you.”
“I trust you.”
His eyes change with my words. They intensify. They focus like they can see so much more. Everything.
“You won’t hurt me, Turner,” my words seal out the world around us; it disappears like vapor. “You touch me like I matter. Like you care. With a reverence I’ve never felt before.”
I tug against his hold, my head dropping back slightly. He cradles my movements while holding me steady, keeping me safe. My hips grind against him and a moan slips past my lips when I feel him.
He’s hard and ready. For me. He wants me.
This badass biker who could have any woman he wants. He took one look at me, someone who has been hiding, who has been praying to be forgotten.
But he saw me.
I gasp and rock my hips down harder. “Please,” I plea, the word broken with the need pumping through my body.
My surprised yelp becomes light laughter as he flips us over and settles between my thighs before I even know what’s happened. Wanting to feel more of him, I arch my back and press my body against him while pulling him down to settle more of his weight over me.
“Graycie,” his voice is strained as I lazily open my eyes and meet his, “you need to be sure. If I slide inside of you, I’m claiming you. This becomes very real. For you. For me. For the club. It’s forever. You’ll be my Old Lady, and I’ll always, and only, be yours.”
It feels like my heart bursts in my chest. Not with hurt or pain, but with a hope so fucking profound that it takes my breath away. “Don’t make empty promises, Snake,” I gasp out the words, needing to know, needing to see.
Turner closes the distance between us, our noses touching, his lip curling up as he bares his teeth at me. “I will always worship you. I’ll never lie to you. But don’t push me, Angel, and don’t test me.”
My belly flips with his words as my pussy clenches around nothing. That shouldn’t be hot, but it is. I shouldn’t be turned on, but I am.
“I want you, I want this,” my voice is steady even as I curl my fingers tighter around the edge of his cut. How are we still dressed right now?
Turner smirks and then he starts slowly undressing me. I sigh into the feeling of his hands roaming over my body. And my mind doesn’t drift.
Even when he kisses one of my scars. It feels like penance instead of pity. I twitch every time his mouth makes contact with my body, something in me craving it more and more, like an obsession, like a drug.
“Turner,” his name becomes a song that speaks to him as it falls from my lips.