Page 22 of My Ex-Military Biker

The air in the room is thick with what just happened.

My body is still humming, still electric. Between my legs the ache has lessened but it hasn't disappeared.

If anything, the release just made me more aware of how empty I am, of how much I want him instead of my own fingers.

He stands without speaking. Walks past me, his jeans still unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. The bathroom door closes. Water runs.

I sit there on the arm of the couch trying to process what just happened.

I pick up the shirt from where I dropped it on the floor and walk back down the hallway to the bedroom, my legs not entirely steady beneath me.

The bed welcomes me and I sink into it, the shirt still clutched in my hand. I don't put it on. Instead I let it fall to the floor beside the bed and stretch out on top of the covers, completely bare like he told me to be.

Sleep should come easily after that release, but my body refuses to cooperate.

The ache settles back between my legs almost immediately, more insistent than before. Three fingers weren't enough.

The release I gave myself only highlighted how empty I am. How much I need his hands on me instead of my own. His cock instead of my fingers. Him inside me, filling the hollow space that touching myself only made more obvious.

I let myself imagine it. His hands learning my body the way mine just did but better, more assured. His cock pushing into me slowly, stretching me wider than my fingers could. The way helooked at me tonight like I was something essential, something he needed to survive.

Twenty-seven years I've spent executing other people's decisions, living other people's plans.

This is the first time I'm choosing what I want instead of what I'm supposed to want.

Chapter 5 — Tate

Church is already running when I walk in.

The clubhouse smells like coffee and cigarettes. Clint sits at the head of the table, Cain's hunched over his laptop, and Holt, Diesel, and four others are scattered around the room.

I slide into a seat and Clint acknowledges me with a brief nod before continuing.

"Route 9's locked down for now. Marrow lost product and a man. They'll come back at us... The question is when."

"Any movement?" Holt asks.

Cain keeps his eyes on his screen. "Chatter. Nothing concrete yet. They're planning something but I can't pin down location or timing."

"What about watch rotation?" Diesel leans forward.

"Doubled it. No one goes anywhere alone until this cools down. Perry's covering The Anchor today, should check in around noon."

I lean back and the wound across my ribs pulls slightly. I barely notice it anymore, Natalie's dressing job was solid work.

Thinking about her makes focusing on Clint's words nearly impossible. Makes me think about her standing naked in my kitchen, about the fact that she's at my house right now waiting for me to come back.

About what happens when I do.

Clint moves on to supply lines and territory when three phones suddenly go off at once—mine, his, and Cain's.

That's never a coincidence.

Clint answers first, his expression unchanging while he listens, but his body language shifts completely. Every muscle goes tight.

"Where?" A pause. "We're moving now."

He ends the call and looks at all of us.