"More than okay. Move."
He does, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, setting a rhythm that's hard and deep. Every stroke hits exactly right, building pressure low in my belly. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he curses.
"Fuck, Ava, you feel incredible."
"Harder."
He complies, his hips snapping against mine with force that would hurt if it didn't feel so damn good. The headboard's banging against the wall, and I don't care who hears us, don't care that the entire club's going to know exactly what we're doing.
All I care about is the feel of him inside me, the way his muscles flex under my hands, the sounds he makes when I clench around him.
"Not going to last," he grits out. "Too good."
"Then don't." I reach between us, touching myself, and his eyes darken watching me. "Want to feel you come."
That does it. He thrusts hard three more times, and then he's coming with a groan that sounds like my name. The feel of him pulsing inside me tips me over the edge again, and I follow him into oblivion.
We collapse together, sweaty and satisfied, our hearts racing in tandem. He pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom before pulling me against his side, my head resting on his chest.
"That was..." I start.
"Yeah," he agrees. "It was."
We lie there in silence, the weight of what we just did settling over us. This changes everything. We both know it. But rightnow, wrapped in his arms with his heart beating steady beneath my ear, I can't bring myself to care about consequences.
"Stay," he murmurs against my hair.
"I wasn't planning on leaving."
"Good." His arms tighten around me. "Because I meant what I said. You're mine now, and I protect what's mine."
I should probably object to being claimed like property. Instead, I just press closer and let myself drift off, safer than I've felt in weeks.
Even if that safety's just an illusion, even if everything falls apart tomorrow, I'll take this moment.
It's more than I've had in a long time.
Chapter 5
Ice Pick
Iwake to the smell of Ava's shampoo on my pillow and the weight of her body against mine. She's still asleep, one leg thrown over my thigh, and her hand resting on my chest like she's staking a claim. The morning light filtering through the blinds paints her skin gold, and for a moment I just lie there, memorizing the way she looks right now. Peaceful. Vulnerable. Mine. This won’t stay private. Tess will know before lunch. Cara will already be deciding whether this makes me a liability. Nothing inside Saints Outlaws exists without ripple effects.
That last thought should scare me more than it does.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it carefully, trying not to wake her. There’s a text from Vulture.
Vulture:
Church in an hour. We've got movement on the Reapers.
I type back quickly.
Me:
Be there.
Ava stirs against me, her eyes fluttering open. For a second she looks confused, trying to figure out where she is, then memory floods back and her cheeks flush pink.
