Page 63 of Carver’s Crusade

A faint smirk touches his mouth. “You’re yanking your hair out.”

Embarrassed, I sit on the edge of the bed while he crawls behind me. His fingers slide carefully through my damp hair as he works the comb through the tangles with unbelievable patience.

The steady strokes relax me almost instantly.

“You’re good at this,” I murmur.

“My little sister hated knots.”

Something warm blooms in my chest at the image.

When he finishes combing out my hair, he gathers it and begins braiding it slowly. The repetitive pull of his fingers is soothing enough that my eyelids grow heavy.

Once he ties off the braid, he sets the comb aside and pulls back the blankets.

“C’mere.”

I slide beneath the covers, and a second later, he climbs in beside me. The mattress dips beneath his weight before he pulls me carefully against his chest.

His strong arms wrap around me. He’s solid, and he’s safe.

Carver presses a kiss against the top of my head.

“You’re safe here, Raven,” he says quietly. “I’ve got you.”

CHAPTER 25: CARVER

I wake slowly. The hint of lavender confuses me until I feel Raven shift next to me. She’s tucked into my side with one hand curled against my chest beneath the blankets. Her slow breathing tells me she’s still asleep. My chest tightens as I stay perfectly still and just stare at the beauty in front of me. I don’t want this moment to disappear.

Morning light spills through the crack in the curtains, painting pale gold across her face. Her dark hair is spread across my pillow, soft tendrils have escaped her braid, and her lips are parted on a soft breath. She looks peaceful. More importantly, she’s safe. Here. With me. Because she’s mine.

The thought hits hard enough to steal my breath.

I lie there quietly, staring at her while the clubhouse slowly wakes around us. I can hear muffled movement downstairs. Pipes rattling. Distant voices. Someone laughing. Church will start soon. I should already be up.

Instead, I tighten my arm around Raven and keep watching her sleep.

She nuzzles closer unconsciously, pressing her face against my chest, and something dangerously close to happiness settles heavily in my gut.

I’ve known this woman for what? A week?

Yet lying here with her in my bed feels so damn natural that it’s almost terrifying, like this is exactly where she belongs, where she was always supposed to be.

I brush a strand of hair away from her face carefully. Her skin is soft beneath my knuckles. There’s still faint bruising under her eye from Tony’s attack, and rage burns hot and immediate through my veins.

The urge to protect her feels damn near primal.

I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of man. Never been the guy dreaming about forever or white-picket-fence bullshit. My life revolves around the club. Violence. Loyalty. Survival.

But this?

This woman curled against me? I could get used to this way too fucking easily. The realization should send me running. Instead, it feels right.

That’s the part that really messes with my head.

Raven sighs softly in her sleep, and I force myself to move before I talk myself into staying here all damn morning. Church waits for no one—not even me.

Carefully, I slide my arm out from beneath her and ease toward the edge of the bed. She stirs immediately, brows pulling together as she shifts on the mattress.