Page 16 of Her Possessive Biker
A sound tears out of me—low, rough, dangerous. I grab her, big hands locking around her thighs as I haul her against me like she weighs nothing. She gasps, legs wrapping around my waist, fingers tangled in my hair now.
Mine.
She fits too damn perfectly. Her body molds to me like it’s always belonged there, like this moment was carved into time just waiting for us to reach it.
I don’t walk. I stalk through the house, every step heavy with possession, fury, and need. My grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, like I think someone might try to take her from me. LikeI’d kill them if they did.
I don’t look at her. I don’t have to. I feel her.
Her breath on my neck.
The thrum of her heartbeat pressed to my chest.
The way she clings like sheknows—like she feels it too.
This isn’t gentle. It’s not a sweet romance with flowers and soft sighs. This is what happens when a man starves himself for too long, and the one thing he needs falls into his arms.
She’s mine.
She’s mine.
And I’m never letting go.
Chapter 5
Cassie
He carries me down the hall, every step a promise, a threat, a vow. I feel the tension coiled in his chest, the heat in his skin. When we reach the bedroom, he doesn’t pause. He kicks the door open, crosses the threshold like he owns the night, and sets me down on the bed—roughly.Possessively.
Like I’m his. Because Iam.
I sit there, breathing fast, heart pounding as he straightens and looks down at me like he could devour me whole.
“Off,” he growls, eyes locked on my T-shirt.
I blink. “What?”
“Clothes, Angel. Take them off.”
My breath hitches, heat rushing up my spine. But my fingers move. Slowly, I grab the hem of the shirt. My heart slams against my ribs as I pull it over my head and let it fall to the floor.
He freezes.
The air between us thickens as his eyes drag over me, my bare chest rising and falling with each breath, my skin prickling under the weight of his stare. He doesn’t reach for me.
Not yet.
“Bra?” he asks, voice low and full of gravel.
I nod once. “Yes.”
He steps closer, fingers brushing my sides before unhooking the clasp. The straps slide down my arms. The bra falls.
His growl islow. Hungry.
He kneels in front of me, hands finding the waistband of my leggings.
“Wait,” I whisper, pulse pounding.
