Page 103 of Emmy's Ride

“I’ve got you, baby.” His voice was thick with emotion, his lips brushing over mine as he settled between my thighs. “Always.”

Austin didn’t rush me. He never had. His hands moved slowly over me, reminding me that I was his, that I was safe. I trembled beneath his touch, my body tight with the fear I couldn’t voice.

“I love you,” he murmured against my skin. “No matter what happened, no matter what you think you became in that place—you’re still mine.”

My breath hitched, shame curling through me like a fist gripping my heart. “Austin.”

“No,” he cut me off gently, lifting my chin so I had no choice but to look at him. “You don’t get to push me away, Em. Not anymore.”

The dam inside me broke, and I surged forward, pressing my lips to his, desperate to drown in him. I needed this—needed him—to wash away the filth, the doubt, the self-loathing.

Austin groaned into the kiss, deepening it, his arms locking around me as if he could hold me together with his touch alone.And maybe he could. Because as he laid me back and covered me with his body, I felt something change inside me.

For the first time since … everything, I let myself be completely vulnerable, accepting his love fully. His hands traced reverent paths over my skin, an affirmation that I was more than what had been done to me. He moved with a slow, deliberate tenderness, each touch unraveling the pain I had buried so deep.

And when he finally joined with me, our bodies entwined, I felt something I thought I’d lost forever—home.

Months had passed since the darkest days of my life, and though the scars still lingered, I had found my way back to the light. Therapy had helped. Time had helped. But mostly, Austin had helped.

I stood on the grand balcony of the mansion we now called home, the evening breeze sweeping through my hair as I gazed at the sprawling estate Austin had inherited from his grandfather. Never in a million years had I pictured myself in a place like this—wrapped in the love of a man who saw all of me, even the broken parts, and loved me anyway.

Our wedding was only days away, set to take place right here on the estate. The Kings of Chaos, once an outlaw club,had found their footing in something bigger, something more. Their community outreach program had taken off—mentoring troubled kids, offering guidance, and even working with local law enforcement on operations that blurred the line between legal and necessary. Austin had led the charge, transforming the Kings into something powerful, something that mattered. And I had found my place among them.

I never imagined myself working within an MC, but it wasn’t about the club—it was about the people. The kids I helped, the lives I touched. It was fulfilling in a way I hadn’t known I needed.

Warm arms wrapped around me from behind, and I leaned back into Austin’s solid chest.

“You keep staring out there like you’re waiting for something,” he murmured against my neck.

I smiled. “Just… taking it all in.”

“You happy?”

I turned in his arms, looking up into those piercing blue eyes that had always seen straight through me. “So happy,” I whispered.

“Took you long enough to let yourself believe it.”

A lump formed in my throat. He was right. It had taken time—more time than I’d wanted—but I was here now, in his arms, and I wouldn’t waste another second questioning whether I deserved this.

I rose onto my toes and kissed him, slow and deep. His grip tightened on my waist, pulling me closer as if he could fuse us together. We had been through hell, but we had come out the other side stronger.

His hands slid down, gripping my thighs as he lifted me, carrying me inside.

"Let me show you how much I love you," he whispered.

And I let him.

The morning of our wedding dawned crisp and clear. Everything was perfect—the decorations, the venue, the overwhelming feeling of love that surrounded us and a fucking amazing night with my bride. I was so glad she didn’t buy into the don’t-see-the-bride-the-night-before-the-wedding nonsense.

Some of my brothers had showed up early to keep me calm. The joke was on them because I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. Emmy was always supposed to be mine. Hell, she already was, and no piece of paper or words from the church were going to make it feel any different.

Time seemed to drag until it was time for me and Tank, as my best man, to take our places in front of rows of our closest friends.

The second I saw her, the world stopped.

Everything else faded—Tank elbowing me in the ribs with a whispered “try not to pass out,” the rustle of guests shifting in their seats, even the wind catching the edge of the altar flowers. None of it mattered.

Because at the end of the aisle, Emmy stood like a damn vision. And next to her was Luke.

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