Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“I used to tell myself it was just convenient,” I murmur against his skin. “That I didn’t need it to be real.”
“Me too,” he replies, breath warm against my chest. “But you made it real anyway.”
I wrap my arms around him tighter, anchoring him to me. “Don’t let it go. Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t,” he vows, and I feel it in the way his hands cradle me, in the way our bodies sync like they’ve always known how. “Not ever.”
The rhythm between us builds slowly, as if the world has quieted just to let us have this. I feel every heartbeat, every inhale, every soft gasp like it’s part of a song only we can hear. It’s not just making love—it’s becoming one. Like every wall we built has finally crumbled, and what’s left is only truth. Only us.
He kisses me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, and I hold him like I never want to let go.
When the orgasm comes, it’s quiet, intense, a wave that overtakes us both with a trembling tenderness. I cry out his name, not from pain or pleasure alone, but from something deeper. Something I can’t put into words.
He follows with a whisper of my name against my lips, and in that moment, I swear the world shifts.
We collapse into each other, tangled and breathless. My skin hums. My heart is wide open. For a while, we just lay together. No words. Just the sound of our breathing slowing, syncing again like the rhythm hasn’t left us. His fingers trace circles on my back, grounding me. Loving me.
“Is it strange,” he murmurs, “that I feel more married to you than the moment I muttered it to my family even though I had fully committed to the claim?”
I smile into his neck. “No. It makes perfect sense.”
He kisses the top of my head, then pulls the blankets over us, wrapping us in warmth. “Cambria,” he whispers.
“Hmm?”
“I want to make the lie a truth.”
“You don’t have to,” I promise, worried that he feels pressured to marry me all of a sudden. “I’m with you no matter how it’s defined.”
He exhales slowly, like the last of his fears just slipped out with that breath. I rest my hand over his heart, feeling it beat strong and steady beneath my palm.
“You’re mine,” I say, not possessively, but with awe. With gratitude.
“And you’re mine,” he answers, pulling me closer. “For real this time.”
The moonlight fades a little, replaced by the softer glow of dawn sneaking in through the window. The beginning of something new. And for the first time, our story isn’t one we’re performing. It’s one we’re living and keeping forever.
Afterward, we lie there tangled in the sheets. He traces lazy lines across my spine, and I listen to the steady beat of his heart. I can feel my world shifting, piece by piece, and for once I’m not fighting it. I'm letting it happen.
“You think they’ll ever see me the way you do?” I ask quietly.
“The club?”
I nod against him.
He exhales. “They already do. You’re family.”
“Do you feel like part of the club? The family?”
He laughs, low and gravelly. “Me? I was angry for a long time about something I couldn’t understand until now. Always trying to prove I was more than Shooter’s son. More than Axel’s little brother. You gave me somethin’ worth fightin’ for beyond a name, beyond the club. I don’t care about their acceptance and in finding that peace for myself, I found I’ve had the acceptance all along.”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the honesty in his voice.
The next morning, I wake wrapped in his arms, my head on his chest. Sunlight filters through the slats in the blinds. There’s a peace in the air I’ve never known.
Still, a weight presses down on me. Not fear, guilt.
I don’t deserve this. This man, this club, this life. I’m just a girl from a rundown Arkansas motel with nothing but trauma to her name.
I slip out of bed, pad to the kitchen, pour a cup of coffee, and stand at the window. I hear his footsteps behind me, feel his warmth as he steps in close.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he says, automatically knowing I’m lost in my own head.
“I don’t belong here.”
“You do.”
“I’ve lied. I’ve put people in danger. My mom’s a junkie and a whore, and I ran with monsters for most of my life.”
He turns me to face him. “And you escaped it. That makes you stronger than any of ’em.”
I want to believe him.
He lifts my chin. “This isn’t pretend anymore, Cambria. I want this. All of it. You. Me. The life we’re buildin’. You saved me from bein’ a bitter bastard with a chip on my shoulder. You showed me what it looks like to fight for someone. What it is to have something of my own.”