Page 32 of Her Possessive Biker
“I’m not going to let them near you again,” he says, low and fierce. “I swear on everything I’ve got, Angel.”
And it breaks me.
Not in the bad way. Not in the falling-apart, shatter-into-dust way.
In the way where something inside me opens like a door that’s been locked too long.
“I love you,” I say.
It comes out small. Honest. My voice cracks around it like it’s been hiding behind everything I’ve held back.
His breath leaves him in one sharp exhale.
Then he says, without blinking, “I love you.”
My chest tightens. Not with fear. With the kind of relief that tastes like sunlight after a storm.
“You... you do?” I whisper.
“I’ve loved you since... hell, since Caleb handed me your picture,” he says. His voice is rough, like gravel under boots. “Didn’t stand a chance after that.”
Emotion crashes through me like a wave. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still in my system. Or maybe it's the fear that I almost lost this chance, that I almost lost him. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hold back. Not tonight. Not after everything.
I want to feel him. I want to belong to something stronger than fear.
“Then take me, Holt. Please. I want to feel you inside me. I need you.”
His jaw flexes. He steps closer, eyes locked on mine.
“I can’t be gentle this time, Angel.”
“I don’t need gentle,” I whisper. “I want you. No restraints.”
His voice drops to a growl. “Then get on all fours.”
My breath catches.
The way he says it—low, gravel-rough, like he’s already picturing me obeying—sends a shiver through every inch of me.
He waits. Doesn’t touch. Doesn’t rush. Just stands there, storm-heavy and fierce, like he’s holding himself back with iron will.
Still, the power thrums from him. Possessive. Unapologetic.
I turn.
My towel slips from my body.
I climb onto the bed, skin flushed, heart pounding louder than the silence. Every breath threatens to betray me. That I’m terrified. That I’ve never wanted anyone like this before.
But I don’t hesitate. Because I trust him.
His breath shifts. Then footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Each one giving me time to back out.
I don’t.
Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of clothes hitting the floor. The low scrape of a zipper. The soft thud of boots being kicked aside. My breath catches as I realize he’s baring himself for me.
The mattress dips. A large, warm hand glides up my back. Slow. Reverent.
