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“If I had lost you, Cilla….” He shook his head slowly, and she could feel the burst of his deep sigh against her mouth. “I would have burned this world to the ground and then slit my throat in the ashes, just to have the chance of seeing you again.”
A sob tore from her throat. “Johnny,” she cried, “don’t say that. Never say that. I’m here, I’m safe, her plan didn’t work.”
“No, you’re alive and unharmed…but I might have lost you anyway,” he said, grimacing. His broad shoulders drooped, and she could feel his heart pounding beneath her hands, which were pressed to his chest. There, so close to him, his warmth spilling into her, his strength comforting her, she knew that she could never be without him.
He was an ass, had made mistakes, but he was her ass.
“Johnny,” she began, using his given name—and she didn’t miss the way the sides of his mouth kicked up into a smile when she did, “you haven’t lost me, you have me…if you truly want me.”
An explosive exhale was her only warning before his mouth crashed against hers. Gasping, she melted into him when his tongue invaded her mouth, licking inside, stealing her breath and her ability to think. She slid her hands up to clasp them together behind his neck, her fingers tangling in his long hair. Groaning, he dropped his hands from her face, wrapped his arms around her waist, and crushed her against him. He deepened the kiss, driving her thoughts from her head, and sending pulsing, delirious need into her core. Her pussy, slick from just being near him, throbbed, demanding they take their kiss inside, get naked, and fill her to bursting.
“Hell ya, brother, claim the fuck out of your woman!” a man’s voice broke through her sexual haze, and made her tense and pull away, breaking the kiss.
Patriot growled, refusing to loosen his hold. “Fuck you, Disco!” he barked, then cursed. Looking down into her eyes, Cilla couldn’t fathom the depth of emotion she saw there. Desire, yearning, scorching lust…and consuming love. He smiled, and the way it lit up his beautifully rugged face, made her heart skip and grow ten sizes.
Bliss cannoned through her, and she smiled back, unable to keep the joy from her face.
He loved her.
And she loved him.
“Come on, baby, let’s go. I want to get you home so we can continue without nosy motherfuckers interrupting us.”
“Hey,” Disco shouted, “you’re the one bein’ a horny shit out where everyone can see ya.”
Cilla giggled and Patriot rolled his eyes, but she didn’t miss the smug look on his face.
Without hesitation, Cilla took Patriot’s outstretched hand and followed behind him to his bike.
He wanted her on his bike.
Wow…this was a big deal.
He glanced at the bike, then at her, and swore.
“Shit, wait, I’ll be right back,” Patriot exclaimed before dropping her hand and hurrying back around the house. She blinked and stared after him, wondering what the heck just happened. He reappeared moments later…the property kutte in his hand, and a triumphant expression on his face.
His grin wide and brilliant, he stopped just in front of her. She stared up at him, unable to tear her gaze away. In this, his moment of great happiness, he never looked more gorgeous. And he was all hers.
“Cilla, baby, I know I’m an asshole, and I don’t deserve you, not with all these sins on my soul.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and lifted the kutte. “But I want you for my ol’ lady, I want my property kutte on your back, I want to claim you, body, heart, and soul…if you’ll have me.” She heard the plea, the uncertain vulnerability in his words. This man, the amazing, beautiful man…was standing there, all his walls down, asking her to give him a chance. A chance at forever with her. Her. Cilla St. James, the laughingstock in high school, the one everyone hated and sneered at. But she wasn’t that woman anymore, she was a new person. Stronger. Determined to snatch what life dangled in her face, and make the most of it.
Wiping the tears from her blurry eyes, Cilla finally saw what was on the front of the kutte, and her breath caught.
It was her name stitched onto a patch over the front pocket. Cilla. She reached out a shaking hand for it, but before she could touch it, Patriot turned the kutte around so she could see the back.
It read: Property of Patriot.
Beneath the words was the Unchained MC brand of the skull breaking through the links in a chain.
“I ordered this kutte the week after we met, not actually believing that you’d ever wear it.”
Disbelief warred with excitement as she asked, “Why not?”
His expression darkened and his grip on the kutte turned white.
“At first, I never intended to give it to you. It was just an impulsive move, a way to expel some of the desperate need to lay claim to you. And then, once we started spending time together, it got harder and harder not to beg you to give me a shot…but it took you putting the brakes on our friendship for me to realize that you and I belong together, and everything else is bullshit.”
She gasped. “But why? You had to have known how I felt about you—everyone else could see I was smitten with you. Apparently, I didn’t hide it very well.” Apparently, the Slutketeers were more observant than the man before her, and they took joy rubbing her “crush” in her face.
