Page 20 of Her Possessive Biker
Safe. Claimed.Wanted.
Maybe even loved.
Chapter 6
Cassie
Iwake to heat and weight and the steady thrum of a heartbeat under my ear. For a second I do not know where I am. Then the scent finds me. Cedar, smoke and his manly scent. Holt.
My cheek is on his chest. One of his arms is locked around my waist like a band of iron.
The blanket is kicked down around our hips and a square of gold morning light lies across his shoulders.
Lucy is a gray lump at the foot of the bed, one eye on me like a guard who pretends she does not care.
I shift and everything inside me reminds me of last night. A sweet ache. Soft and deep. Not pain. Proof. My face warms. I bite my lip and try not to smile like a fool.
His hand flexes over my hip. The rough pad of his thumb strokes once. He is awake. I lift my head. His eyes are half open, silver and soft in the light.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi.” I sound shy and I hate it, except I do not hate it at all.
He tips my chin with two fingers. Looks at me like he is checking for cracks. “You okay?” he asks. “Sore?”
“A little.” I tell the truth. “But good.”
Something in his face eases. He draws me closer and I tuck my leg over his. He is warm everywhere. Solid everywhere. His palm slides slowly along the back of my thigh and I feel his breath change.
I swallow. My body answers before my mind does. My skin wakes up, inch by inch. I want him again. I did not know it could be like this. I did not know I could feel like this and still be me.
He feels me tense and does not push. He waits. The patience of that makes my eyes sting for no reason I can explain.
“Tell me what you need,” he says quietly.
I do not know how to say it without sounding foolish. I try anyway. “I want you. But maybe slow. Maybe… can I be on top?”
The heat in his eyes goes from warm to molten. He props himself on his elbows and nods once. “You set the pace,” he says. “You take what you want.”
My hands are not steady, but I move. I swing a leg over his hips and sit up. He looks huge like this, all hard muscle and ink and restraint, his hands braced on my thighs like he is holding himself back by force.
“Beautiful,” he says. The word lands low in my belly.
I rise up on my knees, guide his hard cock with a hand that is not as steady as I want it to be, and slowly sink down around him. The stretch makes me gasp. He freezes, hands tight on my hips, eyes locked on my face.
“Breathe,” he says.
I do. The ache softens as my body remembers him. I take more of him. All of him. The feeling is a perfect kind of full. I sit there,caught on the edge of something bigger than me, and his eyes go dark the way sky gets before a storm.
“You okay?” he asks again, voice low.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I am.”
I start to move. It is slow at first. Careful. He takes his hands from my hips and laces his fingers with mine instead, like he knows I need that connection. Our palms press together and our arms create that small frame around each other.
I find a rhythm and watch his mouth open on a harsh breath. My cheeks flame with pride. I am doing this. I am making this man feel something with nothing but me.
“Cassie,” he says, and my name comes out like a prayer that has teeth.
