Wilting Violets (Sons of Templar MC – New Mexico #2) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, MC Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC - New Mexico Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
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There was a single moment of consideration, of pause after I stopped speaking. A single moment when I thought Elden would try to be the better man. Try to protect me from himself.

But then the moment passed, and we were on each other. I was slammed against the wall once again, but this time Eden’s mouth was plastered to mine, tongues clashing, teeth sinking into lips. The coppery taste of our blood only drove me wilder as we both frantically tore off clothes.

He was still wearing his boots when we made it into the shower. My legs were wrapped around him. The water pounded down on us both, neither of us caring about anything but each other.

“No,” I rasped as I heard the telltale crackle of the foil packet. I had no idea how I heard it over the shower, the roar of my own heartbeat. Fuck, I had no idea how he’d managed to get it in the shower in the midst of this craziness.

Elden froze, looking up at me.

“I don’t want you to use that.” It was a bad decision. In that moment, I knew it was a bad decision. I had some very good, practical experience as to what such a decision could result in.

The protection was essential. For a number of reasons, but primarily because I did not use birth control due to all of the harm it did to women’s bodies and minds.

“Violet…” Elden also knew why protection was important to me. He had not once said a word about it. He had religiously used condoms every time we had sex. I had not thought about how the condoms were also for his protection. How him using them might not have been all about me.

“If you want to,” I stated quickly. “Use it. Of course, you should. But I just meant that I don’t need you to use it. If you don’t want to.”

“Violet,” his eyes briefly lowered to my lips. “You’re offerin’ me something here. And I want it. I want to take you raw more than I want to fucking inhale and exhale. But I don’t want you doin’ shit for me. Being inside you is already the best feeling in the fucking world.”

“Elden,” I raked my fingers through his hair. “I don’t want protection from you. I don’t want anything between us.”

He measured my words for a scant second before he grasped the back of my neck, slammed me against the tile of the shower and surged inside of me.

His growl vibrated my ribs as he filled me up with nothing between us.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he rasped against the water beating down on us, our mouths inches away from each other. “You’re heaven, Violet.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t reply. It was all I could do to hold on for dear life.

“How many more times will we have to say goodbye to each other?” I whispered into the night.

Crickets sang through the window screen.

Elden didn’t answer. Maybe this was one of our forbidden topics. Maybe there were more rules than I’d realized between us. Our togetherness was thin, fragile, dependent on how long both of us could suspend reality, battle against the outside world, hammering at the door.

We were silent for a long while before Elden yanked me so I was straddling him. My hands found his chest on instinct, to steady myself.

“If I had it my way, we’d never be sayin’ goodbye,” he murmured into the night. “If I had it my way, I’d be waking up with you every morning.” His hands gripped my hips. “I’d be fucking you awake and fucking you asleep. You’d be on the back of my bike.”

My skin tingled. Back of his bike. That was the biker version of commitment. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, but it was a declaration of intention, of commitment, of permanence.

It should’ve made me happy.

Except it didn’t.

Because it shouldn’t.

“But…” I said when he’d stopped talking.

His hands clutched my hips harder. He didn’t reply.

“But you won’t,” I expanded for him. My tone was sharp to offset the hurt in my heart.

“I can’t,” he said through his teeth.

My throat burned again, and I wished for antacids and maybe a different life. One that still contained Elden but without all the complications.

I tried to climb off of him, but his hands tightened at my hips, not letting me go. I was disappointed and happy, taking it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, he would fight for me. Us.

“You can,” I argued, my voice low. “We can. I’ll make sure that Swiss doesn’t hurt you.”

Elden’s hold tightened for a second longer before he flipped us so he was hovering on top of me, his body pressed into mine, caging me in. Our lips were inches apart.

“I don’t give a fuck who hurts me,” he exhaled heavily. “If this was about what might happen to me, I would’ve claimed you publicly in a fucking second.”



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