Page 36 of Her Possessive Biker
Holt
The morning light slants through the cabin window, warm and soft, dust motes drifting like they’ve got nowhere else to be.
She’s still asleep.
Cassie.
Curled up in my bed like she was made for it, the sheet tangled around her hips, her cheek pressed into the pillow that smells like me. Her hair’s a mess. Freckles scattered over her bare shoulder like a constellationI’d fight wars for.
My chest aches just looking at her.
Last night...
Hell, I didn’t think I had it in me to lose control like that. Not with her. Not after everything. But she took it—took me—like she wasn’t afraid of any part of me. Not the roughness. Not the heat.Not the man who’s lived with blood on his hands for longer than he wants to admit.
She didn’t just let me have her.
She choseme.
Unrestrained. Raw.
And I’ve never been more gone in my life.
My hand itches to touch her again. To run over her waist, her ribs, her thighs—every inch I’ve memorized. But I don’t. Not yet. I just watch her breathe, steady and soft, and I swear it slows something in me I didn’t know was racing.
I never thought I’d deserve this. Her. This peace.
But I’ll bleed to keep it now.
I’ll kill for it.
The phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I snatch it fast so it won’t wake her.
Her brother.Ghost.
My whole body locks.
I slip out of bed, moving quiet, and step into the kitchen, shutting the door soft behind me. Thumb swipes the screen.
“Yeah.”
There’s a beat of silence, then a voice I haven’t heard in too damn long.
“Hey,” Caleb says. “Reaper.”
I rub a hand down my face. “Shit, Ghost. You alive?”
“Barely. Took a hit back in June. Leg’s still wrecked. Been radio silent till now, trying not to get you all dragged in.”
“Too late for that,” I mutter. “Cassie’s here. She’s safe, but… they came for her, Cal.”
His silence is heavy. Then, “Snake?”
“And Patch-Eye.”
A low curse. “Fuckers.”
