Page 163 of Protected By the Bikers
They collapse around me, and someone grabs a warm cloth and cleans me gently, reverently. Someone drags the ruined chair out into the hallway like a battle trophy. Someone pulls the blanket over all four of us.
We’re a tangle of limbs and satisfied sighs. Ghost lies on his back with my head on his chest. Ash curls against my side, one hand possessive on my hip. Titan sprawls across the foot of the bed, one massive hand wrapped around my ankle like he needs to keep touching me even in sleep.
I trace lazy patterns on Ghost’s chest, following the lines of his tattoos. The room is quiet except for breathing and the distant sound of music from downstairs.
“You okay?” Ghost asks quietly.
“Better than okay.”
“Good.”
Ash presses a kiss to my shoulder. “We should do this more often.”
“What, exhaust your pregnant wife?” I tease.
“Keep you happy. There’s a difference.”
Titan squeezes my ankle. “She’s always happy. Look at her. She’s glowing.”
“I’m sweating.”
“Same thing,” he says with a yawn.
I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of them. Leather and gunpowder and something uniquely theirs. Home.
This is home.
Three ruthless, dangerous, beautiful men who somehow decided I was worth dying for. And me, the girl who never thought she’d amount to more than some man’s old lady.
Turns out I was right about that. I am someone’s old lady. I’m just lucky enough to belong to three someones.
And they belong to me.
“Love you,” I whisper into the darkness.
Three voices answer back. Quiet and certain and true.
“Love you too.”
I smile and let myself drift. Wrapped up in these three ruthless men, I think to myself that I’ve found something that must look a little like heaven.
