Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Almost every other member of the club was covered in tattoos.
Asher’s arms tightened around me. “Tattoos are for life.” His breath tickled my ear. “Apart from the club, I’ve never loved anything that much to commit to a lifelong reminder of it on my body.”
He pulled me onto my back and moved atop of me, holding his weight so his body only just skimmed mine. His eyes searched mine.
“Why? Are you disappointed I’m not covered in ink like the rest of my brothers?” His voice was teasing, but there was a hardness underneath it, almost vulnerability.
I stroked his jaw, feeling bold, like I’d been ever since we’d entered this bed. It was like my shyness melted away and I could be the me only a handful of people made me be.
“No,” I said decisively. “I’m nowhere near disappointed. You’re perfect,” I added in a whisper.
“No such thing as perfect, flower,” he murmured back. His fingers played with my hair. “If there was, I’m so far from that end of the spectrum it’s not even fuckin’ funny.” He looked at me. “Though, if perfect does exist, I’m looking at the embodiment of it right here,” he added hoarsely.
My stomach did something weird at his words. Not weird wonderful, but weird like I ate a bad tuna sandwich.
“You don’t have to lie anymore, you’ve already got me into bed,” I said lightly, trying to hide my own vulnerability.
Asher’s brows furrowed. “What the fuck are you talking about? Not one thing in this bed, not one thing between you and me is a lie. You know that shit. You also know how fuckin’ beautiful you are,” he clipped.
I felt my face flame. Anger coiled in my belly. “You don’t have to say that, I know I’m not. I’m okay with it,” I responded in a hard voice.
Asher’s face turned stormy. “You know you’re not what?” he asked slowly.
“Beautiful,” I snapped, using my anger as a shield for my insecurities. I never snapped at anyone. It was another thing I surprised myself with.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” he ground out.
I opened my mouth to respond that… no, I was not, in fact “fucking kidding,” when a pounding at the door made me jump.
“Fuck off,” Asher yelled, not moving off me.
“Bro, we need you,” a deep voice called through the door.
Asher's eyes stayed on me. “I’m fuckin’ busy,” he bellowed.
“Steg’s orders,” the voice yelled back.
“Fuck,” Asher muttered. He looked down at me. His finger trailed my jaw. “I’ve gotta go, flower, but this shit’s not over,” he declared, frowning.
I frowned too. Not because of the conversation, but at the prospect of him leaving. All I wanted to do was cling onto him and beg him not to leave, but a little thing called self-respect stopped me.
“You stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll come back, we’ll finish this ridiculous conversation, and after I’ve told you how stunning you are, I’ll show you, too.” His hand trailed down to lightly dance over my breast.
I sucked in a breath and my nipple hardened in anticipation.
Asher’s face turned hard. “I do not want to leave this bed, but club business.... ” he trailed off as if ”club business” served as an explanation. I guessed in this world, it did. “Sleep. And I’ll be back,” he promised.
“Okay,” I heard myself saying.
He nodded, pushing up from the bed to dress.
I watched him silently. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence. Which was something different. I loved silence. My own company. Most people didn’t get that, had to fill every void of noise with words, it made me anxious, the constant need to measure time with words. Not now.
He was slipping on his cut when he turned to look at me. Something worked in his eyes as his gaze ran over me. The bed depressed when he leaned in to claim my mouth. It wasn’t hard to get lost in the kiss.
“Do you really have to go?” I whispered against his mouth, self-respect be damned, I didn’t want him to go. Didn’t want the spell to break with the harsh light of day.
He regarded me before sighing and straightening. “Yeah, babe, club shit.”
I tried not to let my disappointment show.
I think I failed because his face softened. “I’ll be back. Stay. Sleep. Don’t fuckin’ move outta my bed,” he commanded hoarsely.
He waited for my nod, then left the room.
I didn’t know how the heck I managed it, in an unfamiliar room, in a biker clubhouse, but I fell right to sleep.
I awoke to a pounding headache. I blinked at my unfamiliar surroundings in confusion before realizing where I was. What happened last night, no early this morning. What I’d told him—about me, about my life, about my father. Holy shit, it was real. The fact I was waking up in Asher’s room in the Sons of Templar compound was proof enough. And the tenderness between my legs served as more evidence. The pounding headache was an unwelcome reminder.