She gives me a squeeze as she growls, “Tacoma better kill those motherfuckers.”
Kill them? Shouldn’t we be calling the cops?
Through the windshield, I see the compound gates ahead, already open. Armed bikers line the fence, weapons raised. I glance back at the Escalade and see it skid to a halt.
Noble barely gets the Tahoe stopped before Journey is ripping open the door. His hands shake as he yanks me out and pulls me into his arms, gripping me so tightly I can barely breathe.
I don’t care. I wrap my arms around his waist, and hold on just as tight.
“You’re okay,” he says against my hair. “Christ Almighty, you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper back.
I shift my gaze to Tacoma with one hand on the back of Foxy’s head, and the other on her belly as he whispers fiercely against her temple.
Bane appears out of nowhere and wraps Frankie up without a word, his face murderous.
Tacoma lifts his head, his blue eyes ice-cold. “Church in an hour.”
Journey grunts as he reaches past me to grab my shopping bag, then takes my hand in his and leads me toward the clubhouse.
He takes the stairs two at a time, and I struggle to keep up.
“I’m sorry!” I plead, feeling the fury radiating off of him. If we had listened and stayed here, none of this would have happened.
“Shut up.” Kicking his door closed, he drops my bag on the floor.
I watch in horror as the red lacy garment spills out onto the floor.
“Baby,” he rasps, bending down to pick it up. The delicate material looks ridiculous dangling from his rough, tattooed fingers.
“I–”
His stormy gray eyes lift to mine, and my knees go weak. “Put it on.” It’s a demand.
“What?”
He tosses the scrap of material at me, and I fumble to catch it.
“Put it on,” he repeats.
“But—” I shrink back. Shouldn’t we discuss what just happened? Someone was chasing us for heaven’s sake.
“Do it,” he snaps.
My mouth snaps shut. “Okay.” With my heart beating a mile a minute, I head into the bathroom and quickly change.
When I glance at myself in the mirror, my breath stalls in my lungs.Holy wow.The lace hugs my curves, the sheer panels leaving nothing to the imagination. I’ve never felt this sexy before.
Opening the door, I step out to find Journey perched on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, waiting. His eyes rake over me from head to toe, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows hard.
“Come here,” he commands, his voice rough, like he swallowed gravel.
I approach on unsteady legs, stopping between his parted knees.
His calloused hands slide up the back of my thighs, his thumbs tracing circles on my skin through the lace. “Part your legs for me, princess.”
Holding onto his shoulders, I widen my stance, and his fingers trail up the inside of my thigh to the thin lace between my legs. He finds me already soaking wet, and hums his approval.
