Page 110 of Twisted Steel

“I move internally.”

“You threaten internally.”

“Also true.”

The music gets louder, and someone starts a drinking game near the picnic tables.Tyler tries to dance with his crutch and nearly takes out a prospect.Mama M threatens to feed everyone salad if they don’t stop acting feral.And Milo tells Saint he has “serial killer cheekbones,” and Saint looks like he doesn’t know whether that’s an insult or a proposal.

Harper leans into my side like she has always belonged there.My arm slides around her waist.Her skin is warm under my hand.Her laughter is still in my ears.Her words are still in my chest.

‘Good with him.’

She tips her face up.“You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That must be painful.”She jokes, poking me in the ribs.

“Yes.”

“What about?”she asks with a smile.

I lean down until my mouth is near her ear.“You.”

Her breath catches, and I smile.I love that tiny hitch that tells me her body remembers mine even with the whole club ten feet away, half drunk and louder than sin.

“What about me?”she asks.Her voice is steady, but her pulse isn’t.I feel it where my thumb rests against her waist.

“How good you look here.”

Her mouth curves.“At a barbecue?”

“In my yard.”

Her brow lifts.“Your yard?”

“The club’s yard.”

“That sounds better.”

“With my hand on you.”

Her eyes darken.“Careful, Marcus.”

My legal name in her mouth is a bad idea.I pull her closer, just enough for her to feel what she does to me.Her eyes widen.Then narrow.

“You aren’t subtle.”

“Never said I was.”

“We’re outside.”

“Call it a change of scenery.”

“Everyone is here.”

“They are.”

“And you’re hard against my hip.”