Page 19 of My Ex-Military Biker

Light starts coming through the window. Gray at first. Dawn's still an hour away but the dark is lifting.

I sit up. My back aches from the couch. The wound pulls when I move. I don't care.

Stand up. Walk to the kitchen. Start coffee.

While it brews I check my phone and I see three texts from Clint.

Perry's stable. Hand's bad but he'll keep it.

Cleanup went smooth.

Check in when you're up.

I text back.

Up now. I'm good. Will call later.

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

You coming to church this morning?

Church is at ten, wednesday morning meeting. I should be there.

I look at the hallway for a second before texting back.

Yeah. I'll be there.

Chapter 4 — Natalie

I can't sleep.

His bed smells like him. Clean laundry and something underneath that's just male. Just him.

I've been lying here for hours staring at the ceiling trying to convince my body it's tired.

My body is not interested in sleep.

It's interested in the man on the couch twenty feet away.

I've never felt want like this, my skin too tight and restless and aching in places I barely acknowledged existed with Tyler.

This is different from the pale imitation I convinced myself was attraction for three years. This is raw. Immediate. The kind of want that makes lying still feel impossible.

I shift position. The t-shirt rides up. When I pull it back down the fabric brushes my nipples and they're so sensitive even that makes me gasp quietly.

This is what desire actually feels like.

I need water. Or to move. Or something that isn't lying here thinking about how close his hand came to mine in the kitchen.

I get out of bed and open the door quietly into the dark hallway.

I walk toward the kitchen on bare feet.

Then I hear it.

A sound from the living room, rough in a way that makes me stop moving.

I take two steps toward the living room and see him on the couch.