Page 87 of Chaos Bound
“With you?” she asked again.
“I can’t give you a normal life, darlin’. I’m leaving the Sinners. And even when Viper’s gone, he’ll still be a part of me.”
“Maybe I don’t want a normal life anymore,” she said. “Maybe I want a chance to live free for a while, make sure the career I’ve chosen is what I really want to do, and not a reaction to my mom or Viper or what I went through. Maybe I want to go on the road with you. Maybe I love you, Holt. Just the way you are. Maybe I don’t want to lose you.”
Pain flickered across his face, and he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. “Maybe you don’t have a choice.”
Naiya jerked back as if he had slapped her. He was planning to do something stupid. She could hear it in his voice, and see it in his eyes. Well she wasn’t going to let it happen. He’d already sacrificed too much. Clearly, he wasn’t going to tell her what he had planned, so she would just have to outthink him, and she’d need Tank’s help. She knew Holt now. He knew Holt then. Together they would be able to figure out what the hell was going on and stop him. She had a choice. And she was choosing him.
Holt eased into her slowly until he was seated to the hilt. So hard. So hot. He filled her completely, perfectly, like they were one person and not two. Naiya wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her until their lips met. Their breaths mingled, tongues tangled. She tried to commit him to memory, the warmth of his lips, the deep rumble when he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She wanted him. Needed him. She’d made it through hell, and he was her piece of heaven.
He leaned down, licked the perfect, pale swell of her breast, glistening with water, groaned as he closed his lips over the taut, pink peak, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the other.
“Oh God.” Naiya bucked against him, rocking over his cock. He pulled out, gave her a teasing thrust, and then returned to her nipples, switching his mouth and his hand, rubbing with his thumb, flicking with his tongue.
She thrashed, churning up the water, shaking with need. “Please.”
“Not yet.” His slid his fingers between them to flick over her clit and then away. She moaned with delight, arched her back, and ground her clit against his hand.
“Holt.” She threaded her fingers though his hair, and pulled him down as she writhed over his cock. He claimed her nipple with his tongue, and bit it gently. Unable to hold back, she lifted herself up and slammed herself down over his cock.
Just like that, he lost it. His cock surged inside her, and he yanked her up and brought her down again, driving deep into her channel.
“Oh, yes!” Her trembling thighs clamped his hips, water splashed, the scent of roses fading beneath the scents of sex and arousal. “I’m so close.”
He lifted her up and yanked her down. Naiya let go of her anxiety and lost herself in the erotic sensation of Holt moving inside her, his long, hard strokes hitting her in just the right place to have her writhing on his lap, desperate for more.
Holt closed his eyes, quickened his thrusts, sending water splashing out of the tub. She could feel his need, his desperation flowing through her, his desire to lose himself in her body. She pressed her knees against his hips and worked her body against his, lost in passion, frantic to give him what he needed.
“Look at me,” she breathed. “Open your eyes, Holt. See me.”
His eyes snapped open, and she saw her need reflected in his eyes. Heat coiled in her belly. She rocked against him, riding his cock as he ground his pelvis against her clit, bringing her closer and closer to release.
“For me, darlin’. Come for me.” He slid one hand between them and slicked her juices over her clit.
Naiya cried out as pleasure crashed through her, a burst of lightening that electrified her body. She sagged against Holt, and his grip tightened. He thrust into her, ratcheting up his pace, his deep thrusts drawing out her orgasm. He came with a raw, guttural groan, his cock pumping hot and hard inside her, the pain of his grip overshadowed by the pleasure of their mutual release.
She melted against him, warm in the fragrant water. She had never felt as complete as she did at this moment; never felt she really belonged until she’d stepped into the circle of his arms.
“I love you, Naiya.” He stroked his hand down her back. “Never thought I had it in me to love someone after my sister died. But you were made for me. We fit together. I don’t regret a single moment I spent with you.”
He loved her, and yet he wanted to throw that love away. He had survived, and yet it was clear he planned to throw his life away. Well, she wouldn’t let him do it.
He might think it was good-bye forever. But it was just good-bye for now.
TWENTY-EIGHT
TANK
When Tank turned the corner onto Sandy Lake’s Main Street, he was engulfed in motorcycles. He slowed his stride, drinking in the shops decorated with the rally colors of black and gold, the welcome banner flapping overhead in the breeze. Hundreds of bikers lined the street to watch the parade of bikes that was a custom for everyone joining the rally. Hands in the pockets of his cut, he wove his way through the crowds and along the rows of vendor stalls, selling rally T-shirts and hats, bike gear, and souvenirs, searching for Holt. He’d received a text from Ella late last night asking him to meet her this morning, and, of course, Holt said he would come.
He pushed thoughts of Ella aside when he spotted Holt waiting for him inside the Sandy Lake Café. A wave of nostalgia hit him hard when he saw the waitress lean down and whisper in Holt’s ear. They’d partied with that pretty waitress last year at the campground outside of town where the real party would start tonight. Although they’d both put on their best moves, she’d spent the night with Sparky, and he and Holt had made a bet about who would get her into bed this year.
Had it really only been a year since he and Holt had nothing more important to worry about than their next lay and their next job for the club? He felt a hundred years old now, aged by the loss of his best friend, and the realization that although Holt had returned, he was nothing like the man he had been before.
Holt looked up and waved a greeting when Tank walked into the café.
Tank joined him at the white Formica counter. “Hey, bro—”
