Page 23 of Owned By Knuckles
"You have a family now, though. The club."
"Yeah. I do. Best family I could ask for, honestly. They chose me when nobody else did. Been my brothers for years now."
"Is that how it works? Family made instead of born?"
"For me, yeah. Only kind I've ever known. Only kind I trust."
She smiles, and it's the first real smile I've seen from her. "Maybe I need one of those too. Someone who never leaves, no matter what."
And fuck, I know I should stop myself. Know I should shut this down before it goes somewhere I can't take back.
Everyone will be pissed. The club has rules about this shit: don't get involved with women under protection, don't mix business with pleasure, don't fuck up a good thing by thinking with your dick.
But I look at her sitting there, bruised and broken but still fighting, still hoping, still trying to find something solid to hold onto, and I can't help myself.
"I could be that person," I hear myself say.
Her eyes go wide. "What?"
"I could be that person. Someone who doesn't leave."
"Ryan, you don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"What if you regret it? What if you realize I'm not who you think I am? What if I'm too much or not enough or—"
"I'm willing to risk it."
She stares at me like I just spoke a foreign language. "You're crazy."
"Probably."
"I might be too. Because I don't want to say no. I don't want to stop you."
"Then don't," I say.
And I kiss her.
Her lips are soft, plump, perfect under mine. She makes a small sound, surprise or relief or both, and opens for me.
I cup her face with one hand, feeling how soft her cheek is, how she leans into my palm like she's starved for gentle touch. And fuck, she probably is. When was the last time someone touched her without violence attached?
The kiss deepens. She tastes like salt from her tears and something sweet I can't name. Her hands come up to grip my shoulders, nails digging in slightly, holding on like I'm the only solid thing in her world.
I should slow down. Should make sure she really wants this and isn't just reaching for the first safe thing she's found.
But she's kissing me back like she's drowning and I'm air. Like she needs this as much as I do.
I lay her back on the bed slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop this. She doesn't. Just lets me settle her against the pillows, her dark hair spreading out around her head like a halo.
My arm brushes against her chest and holy fuck, her tits are even softer than I imagined. Full and heavy, pressing against me through that thin t-shirt.
I want to tear it off. Want to see what I've been imagining for the last hour. Want to cup them in my hands, feel their weight, suck her nipples until she's writhing underneath me.
Want to work my way down her body and bury my face between her thighs. Want to taste her, make her come on my tongue, watch her try not to moan while I devour her pussy.
Want to hear her say my name in that breathy voice people only use when they're getting exactly what they need.
