Page 82 of The Biker's Brother

At that moment he decided there was only one thing in the universe worth having.

It wasn’t money.

It wasn’t the respect of the SSMC.

It wasn’t the thrill he got from riding a Harley Davidson on Bee Caves Road at three o’clock in the morning on a warm Austin night.

It was the woman staring at him like she felt the exact same goddamned way.

In one fluid movement Brandon tore off his brand new cut and the Henley under it, exposing the body Cami had once called godlike. Wordlessly, she welcomed him into the cradle of her body, encircling him with arms and legs as he lowered himself over her and gave her the kiss she somehow knew she’d been waiting for.

For all her life.

They were both aware that there was a corpse on the floor by the bed and that its blood was pressed between them, mingling with their own fluids, but neither one cared. Both were focused on making love as if their lives depended on it.

Brandon pulled Brigid’s cashmere dress off Cami and threw it toward the foot of the bed. He’d been dying to touch her perfect tits since the night she’d put them on display, thinking he was ‘one of the girls’. He licked her nipples through her lace bra. Part of him wanted to take his time and enjoy getting to know her body, but the dominant part was feeling frantic about needing to be inside her.

It was evident that she was feeling the same way because she was pulling at his belt buckle, trying to get his pants down. He got up on his knees, unbuckled, unzipped, and shoved his pants down in a hurry, allowing his erection to spring free and bounce enticingly.

She moaned in response.

Taking that as an invitation he ripped the little matching lace panties away from her body and shoved into her in an athletic thrust that made her cry out, to the extent possible with her hoarse voice. He knew she was dripping wet and didn’t think he’d hurt her. So he kept going.

Hoping she understood that what was happening between them was, in his mind, a claiming fuck of epic magnitude. From that moment, regardless of courts or clerics or family or anything else under the sun, she was his.

And nothing was going to change that.

Ever.

Judging by the way she grabbed onto him and chanted his name, he was guessing she did understand.

He adjusted the tilt of her pelvis so that he was coming in contact with her clit every time he plunged in and out. Her reaction was nothing less than spectacular. He was vowing to remember that position so that he could experience what he was witnessing over and over and over.

When she came, he exploded and thought he might have actually seen stars, which he’d previously thought was a stupid trope in romantic comedies. It turned out that stars are possible, under the right circumstances.

A dead body.

And the woman you’d kill for.

When he collapsed he rolled them onto their sides. He was still in her, lying on top of one of her thighs.

“Jesus, Rose.”

“It’s Cami.” After her breathing began to even out, she said, “You saved my life again.”

The only response he could make to that was to pull her into another kiss, to remind himself that she was very much alive.

When he pulled back, he said quietly, “I killed Edge.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not sorry.”

“Neither am I. Are you sorry about the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“We just did it raw.” He looked confused. “And I’m not on birth control?”

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