“What does this one mean?” I ask, my finger following the lines of ink across his ribs.
He shivers under my touch. “Later. Right now, I have something else in mind.”
Before I can ask what, he stands, scooping me up as if I weigh nothing, and carries me across the room.
“Nitro, what are you—”
He sets me on my feet in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. The one that overlooks the Las Vegas Strip, all that neon and chaos spread out below us like a fallen constellation.
“What are you doing?” I ask, suddenly aware of my nakedness, of how exposed I am. Even though the window is tinted, even though it’s dark outside and no one can see in, I still feel vulnerable. My arms come up to cover myself. “Nitro—”
“No.” His hands catch my wrists, gently pulling them down. “No hiding. Not anymore.”
“But—”
“Look at yourself, Marley.” His voice is firm, commanding in a way that makes my stomach flip. “Reallylook.”
He positions me so I’m facing the window, my reflection ghosting in the glass. And then he moves behind me, his hands spanning my waist, his body a wall of heat at my back.
“What do you see?” he murmurs against my ear.
I see curves I’ve spent years hating.
A body that Derek told me wasn’t good enough.
Imperfections, flaws, and everything I’ve tried to hide.
“I see imperfections.”
“Wrong answer.” His hands skim up my sides, making me shiver. “Let me tell you what I see.”
His mouth finds my neck, kissing, nipping, marking me in the best possible way. “I see a woman who’s survived being torn apart and put herself back together. A woman who’s braveenough to take a chance on a broken biker with too many secrets.”
One hand cups my breast, and I gasp. “I see curves that were made for my hands. A body that responds to me like it was designed for my touch.”
His other hand trails lower, and my head falls back against his shoulder. “I see beauty that takes my breath away. Strength that humbles me. A woman I’m falling for so hard it terrifies me.”
“Nitro,” I murmur, watching our reflection in the glass. Watching the way his massive frame engulfs mine. Watching the way his hands worship every inch of me.
“Say it,” he commands. “Tell me what you see.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to really look. To see myself through his eyes. And slowly, carefully, I do. “I see someone who’s worthy,” I whisper. “Someone beautiful.”
“Damn right you are.” His teeth graze my neck, and I moan. “Never forget you’re a fucking queen. And I’m going to spend every day reminding you of that.”
He turns me in his arms, lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist automatically. He carries me back to the bed, positioning himself over the top of me again, his fingers gently caressing my cheek.
“So, what does this mean?” I ask, staring up at him, my fingers sliding up and down his bicep. “Are we…”
He catches my hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses my palm. “I want you, in every way possible. We’re doing this. You’remine.”
The possessiveness in his voice should probably scare me. Should send up red flags. But instead, it makes me feel safe.
Claimed.
Wanted.
“Yours,” I agree, and even as I say it, even as something warm and terrifying blooms in my chest, there’s still that flutter of fear.
