I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the burning soreness between my legs. My arm throbs too, the stitches tight, but it’s definitely less painful. I take a faltering step, then another and another, embracing the pain with each movement.
I love that Edge claimed me, over and over. That he’s marked me in every possible way ashis. I feel like I’m wearing his hidden brand on my skin. Or not so hidden, in the case of the bruised skin along my neck where he bit and suckled me too hard.
I shrug into a black tank top and a pair of comfortable jeans. I thought clothes would make the ache worse, but I realize that having something tucked up against me actually helps alleviate some of the throbbing.
Edge meets me in the hallway, on my way to the bathroom, to check my reflection in the mirror.
I stop, as his hard face suffuses with love when he sees me. I’ve never seen him look at me that way before and it undoes me, guts me so that my stomach bottoms out, and mychest feels like it’s going to burst for the hundredth time. He couldn’t afford to let me see anything but the hard mask before, but now, everything is different.
“Your poor eye.” I reach up and cup his cheek gently.
He gives me a lopsided grin and raises a brow. “That bad? Should I stick to sunglasses for a while? I’ll live though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s just really bloodshot and there’s this creepy red ring around the iris, but hey…”
He covers my hand with his massive palm, pressing my smooth skin against his stubble. I love the sharp bite into my sensitive palm.
“Who was at the door?”
He blinks hard and I watch annoyance shadow his eyes. “Wraith. He and Tracker are back. Didn’t take them long. Steel called church. I have to go.”
“When?”
“Now.” He sweeps my hand over and presses a kiss to my fingers. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours though.”
“You’re showering first?”
“Nope. Thought I’d wear your scent all over me.”
“Edge!” I exclaim. Part of me feels turned on that he wants everyone to know we’ve been together. But the other part, the part that knows things still haven’t been settled with my father, doesn’t want him walking into the clubhouse practically asking for another beating.
He grins at me and I realize he’s joking. I love the ease between us, the way he feels brand new, but also like an old lover, my protector, and my best friend wrapped up in one incredible panty-melting package.
He beats me to the bathroom and I let him go. This is our life. The club has always been his and I won’t interfere. I know if I go in there that we’re both going to end up naked and he doesn’t need the distraction. I’m sore as hell, but as the shower starts to run inside and I imagine Edge under the water’s spray, the wet beads slicking over his muscles, his cock… I shake my head.
I head towards the kitchen instead, heat burning me up with every step. I don’t understand how I can have him so many times and still want him that much more.
I sit down heavily at the table and stare vacantly out the window that overlooks the weedy back yard. I think about all the things I want to do back there, plant flowers, have a garden, get a bag of grass seed so that the lawn isn’t all weeds that have to be cut down constantly, maybe even make a patio and buy some outdoor furniture. I let myself plan it all out so that I don’t think about the club. I love how open Edge has been with me. How he’s been mine and mine alone. It’s not that I don’t want to share, but I do wish I could protect him from everything he’s going to face.
I nearly laugh at the thought. I know Edge would. He’d tell me that he doesn’t need protecting. That he’s the one to do that for us, but still… I wish my dad would just come around. That he’d let go of his anger and be Edge’s brother again. That whatever is going on with this new threat would just leave us alone. I don’t want Edge out there, risking his life, getting hurt, or worse—having to spill blood. I know that’s how he’s lived andit’s what he does and it’s how he’s survived, but it suddenly takes on new meaning, like my childish notions have been shattered and I’m standing looking at my life, at our life, like a woman now.
My head jerks up when Edge stalks into the kitchen, freshly showered. The dark spice of soap, shampoo, and hair oil cling to him. He didn’t bother with shaving and that stubble is almost the start of a black beard on his jawline. He looks good like that and my face flames as I think about the burn it makes against my skin—namely, the inside of my thighs—when his face is there.
He’s fully dressed in his usual jeans and leather vest. He already has his boots on, and he looks every inch the big, powerful biker that he is. Although- when I look at him now, it’s different. I feel softer. Edge is less like a hero and moremyhero, because now I know. I know that he’s ticklish on his sides right below his ribs, that when I run my hands down his chest, he always squirms a little when I reach that spot. I know his body intimately, where each scar is, what his striated muscles feel like beneath my hands, what his neck tastes like, his chest, his…
“Insatiable,” he murmurs as he bends and places a gentle kiss to my forehead.
My skin heats up a thousand degrees, warmth radiating out from his lips, but also from his comment.
“Be careful today,” I say quietly as he steps away.
He smirks, but I don’t miss the tenderness in his eyes right before he pulls out a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Never,” he winks, before he slips them on.
After he leaves, the house is too quiet. I mean, it’s always quiet for me, but Ifeelthe silence, the loss of Edge’s presence. I always knew the exact second he’d walk into a room, even before I saw him. His presence just fills it up, dominates it and commands attention.
I help myself to a few more cookies, since it’s basically all the food we have in the house. I’ll have to wait for Edge to get back and convince him to go out and get some damn groceries. Or at least let me, but I know that’s going to be a hard no. He’ll probably make some smart ass comment about me being a real old lady now, then ask me why we need groceries when we have each other. He’ll flash me that disarming grin and I’ll melt on the spot, and we won’t get anything done at all, just like the past day and night.
I’m sitting there in the kitchen, grinning like a complete moron when a shadow slants into my line of vision. My head jerks up and my hand snakes out, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. I clutch the table’s edge instead, but let out a sigh of relief when I see the halo of golden hair and the delicate blue eyes.
