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She gasps as my tongue breaches the barrier of her mouth and explores.

Her own control fades, and she opens fully to me.

I groan, gripping the back of her neck to deepen our kiss. I might not have publicly claimed her, but that’s what this is. A claiming in private. A promise of what we’re going to be when she finally gives in.

Kaylie can fight it all she wants, but she is mine.

Our breathing grows more erratic, and I’m about to scoop her into my arms to show her just how wrong she is about not being anyone’s property when she bites my lip.

Hard.

Copper coats my tongue, and I pull back with a grunt of surprise.

Her eyes widen with fear as I drag my thumb over my lower lip and look at the crimson smeared there.

I tsk. “You know better than that, Little Mouse. Your fire only makes me hard.”

I lick the blood clean, then chuckle as I leave the room.

Kaylie just needs a little more time. And I’m willing to give her as much as she needs.

Within reason.

Who the fuck am I kidding? By the end of the month, I’ll have her in my bed. It’s only a matter of time, and her defenses are already crumbling.

I close the door and notify Tank that he’s back on watch duty. Then I go in search of my inner circle.

I didn’t get much from Kaylie. Nothing that can help us go after the Saints. Still, the men deserve to know everything I do. Any pieces we can put together will help.

There has to be something we aren’t seeing. The Saints aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. One way or another, we’ll take them down.

We owe it to the friends we’ve lost over the years. To the women who never deserved to land in their path.

CHAPTER 7

KAYLIE

I’ve been with the Iron Thorns for two weeks now. Every day, Judge tracks me down. Sometimes he wants to talk. Other times, we find ourselves entangled in kisses that steal my breath and make my legs go weak. He hasn’t touched me like he did that first week, and I find myself craving it more with each passing day.

He hasn’t told me much about the club’s inner workings. Nothing that could incriminate him or his brothers. But I have a pretty good idea.

Arms and illegal fights.

The club does a good job of keeping their conversations quiet around me, but Misty isn’t so careful. She hasn’t told me anything outright, though I suspect her loose lips have more to do with wanting me gone. She definitely doesn’t like how much attention Judge has been giving me.

Today is no exception. The sweetbutts—that’s what the girls who hang around the club are called when they’re not claimed—are throwing a party. Apparently, it’s the best way for the guys to unwind after an especially taxing run.

Cherry seems to be the only girl capable of keeping Misty reined in, but she’s not the only nice girl I’ve met.

Nora Dawson has got to be the nicest bartender I know. She was hired only a couple of days ago, and every time I talk to her, she’s ready with a smile and a word of encouragement. We’re both twenty-two and had similarly difficult childhoods. I connect with her better than I do with Cherry. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t seem like the club type.

I glance her way and notice she’s speaking to Ghost. I’m startled when I hear him laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before. I’ve seen the occasional smile when he’s talking to Judge, but otherwise, he’s the most stoic man alive.

“Careful,” Cherry warns.

My head snaps around to find her watching me. “What?”

She jerks her chin in the opposite direction, and I follow her line of sight. Judge’s dark stare drills into me before shifting to Ghost.