“God, I hope so.”
We barely make it through the clubhouse doors.
I’m vaguely aware of brothers calling out greetings, of Ginger saying mentioning dinner, but all I can focus on is getting Josieupstairs. Getting her alone. Getting my hands on her without any barriers between us.
“Stone.” Hawk steps into our path, and I nearly growl at him. “Do you have any updates on the FBI situation?”
Fuck.
I stop. “Organize Church for an hour.”
“Two,” Josie squeaks from behind me.
“Two,” I agree.
“Also, Duck wants to talk about the rally tomorrow?—”
“SAVE IT FOR CHURCH!”
Hawk takes one look at my face, then at Josie’s flushed cheeks, and wisely steps aside.
“Got it, Prez. Two hours.”
I practically drag Josie up the stairs.
The moment my bedroom door closes behind us, she’s on me—pulling at my shirt, kissing my neck, making those little sounds that drive me absolutely insane.
“Eager,” I manage.
“I’ve been waiting weeks.” She yanks my shirt over my head. “Months if you include?—”
I shut her up with a kiss.
“Tonight,” I promise against her mouth. “After Church, after the briefing, after everything is handled—tonight, Josie. I’m going totake my time with you. Do everything I’ve been dreaming about. Make you scream my name so loud the whole clubhouse hears.”
She shivers in my arms. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both. But right now?” I walk her backward until her knees hit the bed. “Right now I’m going to make you come because I fucking can. Because you’re mine and I’ve got two hours to kill.”
Her eyes darken. “Are you sure that’s enough time?”
“Sweetheart, I can do a lot of damage in an hour. Two is practically a luxury.”
“Prove it.”
I don’t give her time to say anything else.
My mouth crashes into hers, swallowing her gasp as I bear her down onto the mattress. She tastes like the coffee she stole from my mug this morning, like the mint toothpaste we now share, like mine. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer, and when I lick into her mouth she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.
“Fuck you,” she pants between kisses. “I can’t believe you made me wait for this.”
“I know.” I drag my mouth down her jaw, her neck, finding that spot below her ear that makes her shiver. “I know, baby.”
She hooks a leg around my hip, grinding up against me, and the friction through our clothes is torture—the sweetest kind. Her nails rake down my bare back, hard enough to sting, and I hiss against her throat.
“Fuck—those claws.”
“You love it.”
