—and then his mouth was on hers, hard and fast, more collision than kiss.He jammed his tongue past her lips; her fist clenched tighter in his shirt, pulling him in…right before her knee shot up.He tore back, just missing it.
Eyes flashing, she swiped the back of her hand hard across her mouth.“What the hell is wrong with you,” she seethed.
He bared his teeth—half grin, half growl.“Still like it mean when you’re pissed.”
Cassie lunged, spitting curses.Nash half caught her, not sure if she meant to hit or kiss him—until both happened at once.
Mouths rough, hands grasping, they hit the wall together—the thud of it rattling the siding.Cassie gasped, hands fisting in his shirt—dragging him closer.Nash’s palms ran the length of her body, greedy, gripping, until they found her hips—then lower, grabbing hold of her ass and lifting her clean off the ground.
Her legs locked around his waist, her arms around his neck, fingers ripping through his hair, nails scraping the skin of his neck.Groaning, he ground himself between her thighs, pressing her harder into the wall, every sound she made spurring him faster, rougher…
Nash fumbled between them, yanking his belt open; Cassie’s heels dragged his pants down.He caught the edge of her underwear and tore the flimsy lace aside; his hand slid between her thighs, finding her already wet.
Their eyes caught as he pushed inside her.Held as he slid full hilt.Cassie’s head fell back, her breath breaking on his name.
Harder.Rougher.She fought him, met him, matched him—clinging tighter, answering every push with her own.The night narrowed to nothing but her, him, and where their bodies met—him driving furiously into her like…
Like he meant to make her stay this time.
They stayed against the wall for a while, Cassie’s face buried in Nash’s chest, his arms braced around her.Neither of them spoke, but she didn’t let go, and only when an engine fired nearby did he pull away and lead her to his bike, where he lit a cigarette, waiting for the rest of the Kings to join them.
Dawn found them on the road, motorcycles rumbling beneath the gray light, copper spilling off the ridges as the sun rose.Cassie clung to him—arms tight around his waist, thighs locked to his hips, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.
Near the clubhouse turnoff, Nash caught Sarge’s eye and signaled east.His Vice President nodded once.The others would retire Connor’s cut to the wall.Nash had somewhere else he needed to be.
He rode straight home, past town and deep into the ridge.The farther they went, the darker it got.No streetlights out here.No houses.Just patched asphalt, sharp switchbacks, sudden drop-offs, the headlight catching the flash of a creek running close to the road.
Out here he leaned into the curves—not just because he knew these roads blind, but because Cassie tightened her grip every time the bike dipped or banked, holding on to him, leaning with him, like she used to—like the ridge had never really let her go.
Turning into his drive, he pulled up alongside the house and killed the engine.As silence crashed in around them, she loosened her grip, shifting to swing off.
Nash twisted, caught her waist, and hauled her into his lap, crushing his mouth to hers.One hand curled in her hair, the other gripped her thigh, dragging her closer.
“Inside,” he growled against her lips.
He rose off the bike, lifting her with him, carrying her onto the porch and into the house.Kicking the door shut behind them, he took her straight to his bedroom and dropped her onto the bed.
“Strip,” he ordered, his cut hitting the floor.“Everything.Now.”
He tore his shirt away.Kicked his boots off, shoved his jeans down.
When he looked up—Christ.
Cassie’s laugh tangled with a gasp as Nash lunged, shoving her back onto the mattress and driving into her hard, the impact knocking the breath out of them both.
“Nash,” she gasped, fists tearing at his hair.
He hooked her knee high, changed the angle, thrust deeper.She cried out, raking her nails down his back.His thumb found her clit, his mouth covered hers, swallowing her sounds as he drove her higher and higher…until she shattered—her body seizing, spine bowing, fingers clawing for purchase as release roared through her.
Nash didn’t stop.He fucked her through it, slower, harder, groaning as she clenched around him, tearing cry after cry from deep inside her.When the second wave crashed through her, she went limp beneath him, trembling, whimpering…just barely hanging on.
She could fight him every damn way she knew, but her body never fucking lied.
She was still his.
The rest?
That was another fight entirely.
