Page 60 of Her Broken Biker
“Ace.”
I love my name in her mouth.
I lean down and kiss her before that thought turns me into an animal in the hallway.
She melts into me, hands sliding up my chest. I walk her backward into our bedroom and shut the door with my foot.
Reina laughs against my mouth when I lift her.
“Quiet,” she whispers.
I set her on the bed. “Tell yourself that, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks go pink.
I kneel between her thighs and push my shirt higher. Her body is softer now. Fuller at the hips, heavier at the breasts, marked in faint silver lines low on her belly.
She tries to look away.
I catch her chin.
“Don’t.”
Her throat moves.
“I know,” she says softly.
“Then remember.”
I kiss the mark nearest my thumb. Then the next. Then the curve of her stomach that carried my son.
“My wife,” I murmur.
Her fingers slide into my hair.
“My woman.”
Her legs part.
“My whole damn life.”
“Ace,” she breathes.
I put my mouth on her pussy and take my time because I know her now. I know the hitch of her breath before she asks for more. I know the way her thighs tremble when she is close. I know where to press, where to lick, how to make her forget every insecurity she ever tried to bring into my bed.
She grips my hair.
I groan against her.
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Use me.”
She breaks with my name trapped behind her teeth, body shaking, heels digging into my back.
I’m on her before the last tremor fades.
She reaches for me like she needs me there.
I love that most.
