Page 38 of Edge
Kane’s jaw worked, his thumb tapping once against his glass. Then he shook his head, a short, sure motion. “Callie is tougher than you give her credit for. She knew who you were before tonight, Edge. You just showed her how far you’ll go for her. That doesn’t scare the right woman—it brands her.”
My chest tightened. “And if she looks at me differently?”
He smirked, that slow dangerous twist of his mouth. “Then she doesn’t deserve you. But I’ve seen her eyes, brother. She’ll be waiting.”
The truth in his words settled something in me, enough that I could breathe again.
He clapped my shoulder once, the weight heavy and grounding. “Clean up. Then go to her.”
I left him there and headed down the hall. The shower in the back bled rust and steam, but it was hot, and that was enough. I scrubbed until my skin went raw, and the water circling the drain ran clear. My reflection in the cracked mirror was all cuts and bruises, but I was me again. No blood. No ghosts clinging. Just me.
By the time I climbed the stairs, my hair was still damp, dripping onto the fresh shirt I’d pulled over clean jeans. My boots thudded heavy against the floor as I neared my room.
I pushed the door open—and froze.
Callie stood in the middle of the room. Bare skin glowing under the soft lamp. Bandages neat and white against her wrists, her split lip a slash of red. And over her shoulders, draped down to her hips, was leather. My leather. The vest. Nothing else. Just her skin beneath it, smooth and golden, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs.
Slowly, she turned, and I double blinked. PROPERTY OF EDGE was stitched across her back in white thread as bold as a vow.
My breath locked in my lungs. The sight of her nearly knocked me to my knees, and my cock went rock hard in an instant, pressing against the denim like it wanted to rip free. Heat slammed through me like a fist, every muscle in my body tightening with the raw, brutal need to claim what was already mine. My throat burned, but no words came.
She shifted, turning back around, nervous under my stare, her teeth catching her lip.
“I—Savannah gave it to me earlier.” Her voice trembled, shy but steady enough to hit me in the chest. “She thought…I should wait for you like this.” She glanced down, flushed pink. “I thought maybe you’d be upset. That it was too soon. That I shouldn’t…”
The growl ripped out of me before I could stop it. Two strides, and I was on her, my hands cradling her face as my mouth crushed hers in a kiss that was half desperation, half salvation. She gasped, fingers fisting in my shirt, and I kissed her harder, until she knew. Until she felt it in her bones.
When I finally pulled back, my forehead pressed to hers, my breath ragged, I rasped, “Upset? Baby, you look fucking unreal. You’re every fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”
Her eyes softened, wide and luminous, relief flooding through them. I slid my hands down, slow and reverent, following the line of leather until my palms curved over her bare hips. Skin and vest and nothing in between. My thumbs traced the dip of her waist, and I groaned, forehead pressing to hers.
“But there’s one thing missing,” I murmured, brushing my mouth against hers, savoring her trembling breath. “One more thing you need to make this perfect.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, confusion shining in their blue depths. “Missing…what?”
I pulled back, dragging her gently into the bedroom. She followed, eyes shining, nervous but trusting. I reached into thedrawer beside my bed and pulled out the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there since a few days after she crashed into my bike. I flipped it open, the diamond catching the lamplight, sharp and brilliant. Her breath caught, her hand flying to her mouth.
Sliding the ring onto her trembling finger, I pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Now,” I whispered fiercely, “every motherfucker who looks at you will know you’re mine. Forever.”
Her tears spilled over, soft gasps breaking out of her chest as she whispered back, “Always yours, Tatum. Always. I love you.”
The sound of my name on her lips, paired with those words, undid me. I kissed her again, slower this time. Softer, pouring everything I had into it.
My hands skimmed her body like I was memorizing her all over again, touching her with the kind of reverence I’d never given anyone else. She shivered under me, arching into my palms, her body answering mine like it had been made for it.
I laid her back on the bed, the leather vest falling open as she sank into the sheets, her hair fanned out around her face. My lips followed, pressing to every bruise, every mark, every place that had been hurt, as if I could erase them with devotion. Her thighs parted for me, a soft sound breaking from her lips when my mouth trailed lower.
“Tatum,” she whispered, her breath hitching as my tongue circled, slow and savoring. Her hips trembled, hands clutching at the sheets, her body offering itself to me with every shiver.
I took my time, not with the hunger of before, but with worship. Every stroke meant to remind her she was safe, loved, cherished. When she came, her voice fractured on my name, her body arching into me like she couldn’t get close enough.
I climbed over her, sliding inside slowly, filling her inch by inch until we both moaned at the connection. My foreheadrested against hers, our breaths tangling, her hands clutching at my shoulders as I began to move. Every thrust was deep and steady, claiming her in a way that went beyond skin and heat.
“You’re everything,” I whispered against her mouth, my voice breaking. “Everything, baby. My world. My heart. My future.”
“And you’re mine,” she murmured, her body clinging to mine, every movement an answer to my devotion.
