Page 41 of Her Possessive Biker
He reaches for the ring again and holds it out, just sitting in the center of his wide palm.
“So… marry me, Angel.”
The breath I take is shaky. Everything inside me goes soft, liquid, bright.
Not because it’s perfect or planned.
Because it’s him. Raw and real and entirely unguarded.
I set the mug down. Crawl across the couch. Slide right into his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. I press my forehead to his and breathe him in.
“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes.”
His chest caves like I just pulled the pressure off his entire world.
“You sure?” he murmurs. “You don’t want, I don’t know, roses or diamonds or a big fancy speech?”
“I wantyou.You’re the speech. You’re the ring. You’re the entire fucking point.”
His lips crash into mine, all heat and promise and hunger, and I kiss him back like I’ve never said yes to anything harder in my life.
When I finally pull back, I look down at the ring still clutched in his hand. “Put it on me.”
He slides it onto my finger. It fits perfectly. Of course it does.
Then he strokes his thumb across my hand, holding it there like he can’t quite believe it’s real.
“I didn’t want to wait,” he says. “Not after everything.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Neither did I.”
We sit like that for a while. Me curled into him, his hands roaming over my back, grounding us both. The heat between us always simmers, always hums, but this moment isn’t about that. It’s steadier. Deeper.
“You know tomorrow’s the charity ride,” he murmurs against my temple.
“I know.”
“You still coming with me?”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “I told you I would. That night at Bottles&Bites. Remember?”
“You mean the night I realized I’d kill anyone who looked at you wrong?”
“Yeah. That one.”
He grins. “Guess I didn’t scare you off.”
“You don’t scare me, Reaper. You wreck me. And I like it.”
He groans and buries his face in my neck.
Epilogue
Holt
It’s been three months. Planning a wedding when you belong to an outlaw motorcycle club is a unique experience. The guest list includes hard-faced men with hearts of gold, barmaids with nerves of steel, and half the population of Jackson Ridge.
Red and Camden took over instantly and turned The Black Crown’s backyard into something out of a fairy tale with white lights, borrowed linens, and wildflowers stuck in mason jars. I didn’t argue. I don’t argue with Red.
