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He kisses me, filthy and deep, and I abandon the last of my reservations. My hands slide down the slick muscle of his back and grip his ass to pull him harder into me. He grunts and snarls something against my mouth.

The pressure builds and builds until there’s nowhere left for it to go.

“Come for me, baby. Right fucking now.”

I shatter.

I say his name. I know I do—I hear it tear out of my throat, over and over, broken and hoarse—as my body clamps down on him and the pleasure rips through me so hard my vision whites out at the edges. He rides it. Fucks me straight through it, chasing his own, and when he goes over, he does it with his eyes locked on my face and my name on his lips like a curse he can’t stop saying.

Afterward, neither of us moves.

He’s heavy on top of me, and I don’t want him anywhere else. Sweat slicks our skin. His heart slams against my chest, slowly finding its pace again. My thighs tremble. There’s an ache between my legs that’s going to remind me of this every time I move tomorrow, and I find I don’t mind that at all.

He nuzzles my throat, and I draw him closer.

The only sound is our ragged breathing and the muffled chaos below that has nothing to do with us. I trace my fingertips along his spine and let my mind drift.

When Judge finally rolls onto his back, he brings me with him. I’m draped across him, my cheek resting against his chest, the coarse hair there tickling my nose.

He catches my chin and tilts it up. Makes me meet his eyes.

“Everything okay, Little Mouse?”

I exhale. “More than okay.”

His smile is softer than I’m used to. Softer than I think anyone downstairs would believe. He presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves his lips there a beat longer than he needs to.

There’s no denying this attraction. No denying that this is where I belong.

In his arms.

And yet there are so many obstacles standing in our way. His club. The Grave Saints, who still believe they own me. A father who’d sell me again if the price was right. I’m not sure we’ll be able to overcome them.

He doesn’t try to convince me of anything. I’m pretty sure he can sense the change between us anyway. He kisses me, gentle, then lets my head settle against his chest once more.

A few minutes later, he eases out from beneath me and tucks the bedding around my shoulders. He takes care of the condom, then retrieves his clothes.

When I crack an eye open, he’s shrugging into his cut, and something about the sight of him—shirtless, patches on, my scratches still red down his back—makes my stomach flip all over again.

“Rest,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk about this later.”

I prop myself up on one elbow. “Talk?”

He smirks. “This changes nothing. You still belong to me.” He leans down, bracing one fist on the mattress beside my head. “But I’ll not have my woman staying at the clubhouse. You’re moving in with me.”

My lips part in surprise, but he captures them in another breath-stealing kiss before I can find a single word.

Then he slips from the room, leaving me aching and wanting more.

CHAPTER 10

JUDGE

“Gather our brothers for Church,” I bark to Ghost as I pass him in the hallway leading to the main level of the clubhouse. “And find another Prospect to guard Kaylie until Tank is on his feet again.”

“I’m good, Prez. I can do it.”

My steps falter as Tank comes into view. He’s got a nasty cut above his left eyebrow and the beginnings of a shiner. I’m prepared to tell him to take a day off when he stops me with a defiant lift of his chin.