Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
“Relax,” Hawk muttered. “Not like Savage is gonna do something impulsive. Never met anyone so in control.”
“You wanna see Savage lose control?” Fox smirked, cutting a look to Hawk. “Look at his girl wrong. Just once.”
Hawk snorted. “Not it.”
“Damn straight you’re not,” I growled.
After several more hours of strategizing, the meeting wrapped with a timeline and split responsibilities. Stone and Fox were coordinating with contacts to prep for a legal strike once we had the evidence. Deviant was pulling security footage for our entry point, and Midnight was working on getting us past their security measures. Hawk, Whiskey, and I would handle the recon and the actual raid, while Racer was in charge of transport since our bikes weren't exactly stealthy. Plus, we didn’t know what we’d need to take with us. If they were as paranoid as they seemed, we’d likely have to take boxes of actual paperwork to sift through, along with any digital files.
With the plan in place, the guys filtered out, but Fox called out for me to hang back.
I waited while he opened a side cabinet and pulled something out.
“Had a feeling.” He handed me a folded black leather vest. “Sent it home with Tank yesterday. Sheila brought it back this morning.”
Ever since the brothers had started dropping like flies—finding and claiming their women at warp speed—Fox had kept a stash of cuts at the clubhouse so we didn’t have to wait for an order to arrive. They already had the property patch, so Sheila just added the names.
I unfolded it slowly. PROPERTY OF SAVAGE was stitched into a black-on-black rocker, with Tamara embroidered on the front. Simple. Bold. Fucking permanent.
“Appreciate it.”
Fox’s mouth crooked up at one corner. “Wasn’t doing it for you. Did it for the trail of dead bodies you’d leave if she wasn’t walkin’ around wearing your brand.”
It was after eleven when I finally opened the door to her room. I kept quiet, ready to find Tamara curled up and asleep, planning to strip down and slide into bed beside her. I wasn’t expecting to find her standing at the window in nothing but my shirt, bathed in moonlight, staring out at the trees.
My body went hard. Fast. And every primal instinct I’d buried since the moment we met surfaced. This wasn’t just lust. It was the driving need to claim.
I stepped inside, locking the door behind me, my gaze never leaving her. The shirt was so big it practically swallowed her whole. But the light haloed her curls, traced the outline of her bare legs, the curve of her hips, and her perky ass.
I was seconds from losing it. From grabbing her, yanking that shirt off, and fucking her against the window so hard she wouldn’t walk straight for a week.
She turned at the sound of my boots, her gaze soft but curious, and I realized she didn’t even know what she was doing to me.
That made it worse.
Because it meant this wasn’t a game. She wasn’t trying to tempt me.
She just was. Mine.
And at that moment, with the scent of her skin in the air and the memory of her lips still lingering, I stopped pretending I had any self-control left at all.
7
TAMARA
Icouldn’t sleep. The bed was comfortable, the room was quiet, and the door was locked. But none of that mattered. Not when my thoughts kept spinning.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw medical charts and redacted files, patients’ names I’d never find again. My chest ached like I was holding my breath and forgetting how to let it go.
I finally gave up and slid out of bed. Padding across the room in nothing but Talon’s shirt, I wrapped my arms around myself and stared out the window. I didn’t know how long I stood there before I heard the door open behind me.
I stared out at the trees as Talon stepped inside the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. When I turned to look at him, I saw that his shoulders were tight, his jaw set, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it a dozen times.
Then his gaze landed on me and dragged down the length of my body. His eyes turned even more intense. Practically burning.
My knees went weak at his look, and I gripped the window frame to hold myself up.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, fists clenched at his sides as though he was trying to hold himself back.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered.
His eyes were storm-dark now, heavy with heat and something deeper as he took a step forward. Then another.
“I keep telling myself to go slow,” he muttered, as though he was talking to himself more than me. “You’ve been through too much. You need time. Space.”
I swallowed hard. “But?”
His chest rose on a sharp inhale. Then he exhaled through gritted teeth. “Fuck it.”