Page 32 of Brick’s Anchor

I stay inside her for a moment. Both of us breathing hard. Both of us processing.

Then I slowly pull out. She whimpers at the loss. I watch my cum leak out of her and something possessive and dark inside me purrs with satisfaction.

Mine.

The thought comes unbidden and unwelcome. She's not mine. Can't be mine. She's a woman under our protection who just went through hell and I'm the enforcer who's supposed to keep her safe, not fuck her senseless in my bed.

But watching my cum drip down her thighs, seeing her collapsed on my mattress looking thoroughly fucked and satisfied, I can't help but think it anyway.

Mine.

I grab a shirt from my dresser and gently clean her up. She lets me, too exhausted to argue. When I'm done, I pull her against my chest and roll us both to our sides. She fits perfectly in the curve of my body. Like she was made to be there.

We lie there in silence for a long moment. The rain has slowed to a gentle patter against the window. The storm moved through fast, the way they do here. Violent and intense and over before you're ready for the calm.

Kind of like what just happened.

"We should probably talk about this," Rosie says eventually. Her voice is quiet but steady.

"Yeah. Probably."

She shifts in my arms, turning to face me. Her eyes search mine. "I don't regret it. I need you to know that first. I don't regret what just happened."

"Good. Neither do I."

"But—" She pauses, choosing her words. "This is complicated. I'm complicated. I just got out of a warehouse six hours ago. I'm supposed to hate all men. I'm supposed to be traumatized and broken and incapable of making good decisions."

"I told you… You’re not broken."

"I'm definitely not making good decisions." She touches my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of a tattoo. "Sleeping with you was probably the worst decision I could make right now. Objectively speaking."

"Probably."

"But it didn't feel wrong. It felt—" She searches for the word. "Right. It felt right. And I don't know what to do with that."

I brush her hair back from her face. "What do you want to do with it?"

"That's the problem. I don't know." Her hand stills on my chest. "Part of me wants to leave tomorrow. Call my family, go home, pretend the last week never happened. Start over somewhere safe and familiar."

Something in my chest tightens. "And the other part?"

"The other part wants to stay. Wants to see where this goes. Wants to figure out if what I'm feeling is real or just trauma bonding or… I don't even know." She looks up at me. "What are you feeling?"

I take a breath. This is where I should lie. Should tell her it was just sex, just physical release, nothing more. Should protect both of us from the complications that come with feelings.

But I can't.

"I'm feeling things I swore I'd never feel," I tell her honestly. "Things that make me want to break every rule I've made for myself. Things that scare the shit out of me because feelings make you weak and I can't afford to be weak."

"What kind of things?"

"Possessive things. Protective things that go beyond club duty. Things that make me want to keep you here, keep you safe, keep you—" I stop myself. "Keep you."

She's quiet for a moment. "I scared the shit out of myself tonight too. I grabbed your dick and didn't think twice about it. Let you fuck me when I should have been sleeping, processing or literally anything else. And now I'm lying here wanting to do it again, wanting more, wanting—" She mirrors my words. "Wanting to keep you too."

"This is insane," I say.

"Completely insane."