Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Derek,” he said. “Derek Kovac. My name.”
I smiled up at him. “I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you. As long as I get to call you mine.”
His smile at that moment was worth everything. All the pain of my past had led me to this moment. I couldn’t say I wasn’t happier for everything I’d suffered if it meant this was now my life.
Chains kissed me then, his lips claiming mine with a possessiveness that made my knees weak even as he was as gentle and tender as always. When he pulled back, his eyes had darkened with desire. “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Club can handle the cleanup.”
I glanced around at the remaining work, my sense of responsibility warring with the heat blooming low in my belly. “I should help. It was my event and --”
“And it’s done,” he interrupted gently. “Knuckles already told me to get you home. Said we’ve earned some private time. Besides, cleanup is what prospects and one bratty teenager are for.”
The thought of returning to our apartment, to our bed, sent a shiver of anticipation up my spine. He was right. The cleanup would manage without me, and suddenly I couldn’t wait another minute to be alone with him.
“Okay,” I agreed, feeling almost giddy. “Let’s go home.”
The ride back to the compound was a study in sweet torture. Chains was on his motorcycle with me pressed against his back, my arms wrapped around his waist, my thighs hugging his. The vibration of the motor of the bike always sent a jolt of lust to my pussy and this evening’s ride did so even more. By the time we pulled into the compound, I was practically pulsing with need and unadulterated lust.
We barely made it through the door of our apartment before the cats descended, weaving between our legs in greeting. Lucifer seemed particularly vocal, his raspy meow demanding attention. Salem perched on the back of the couch, watching us with her usual aloof interest, while Binx rubbed against Chains’ ankle, purring loudly.
“Not now, you little monsters,” Chains grumbled, but there was affection beneath his gruff tone as he bent to scratch Binx behind the ears. “Your mama and I have business to attend to.”
I laughed, scooping up Lucifer despite his protests. “They missed us. They’re not used to being alone all day.”
“They’ll survive,” Chains replied. “Need you, Ellie. Now.”
The raw desire in his voice sent heat flooding through me. I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my body flush against his. “You have me. Do what you want with me.”
He lifted me easily, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. The cats followed, clearly unimpressed with being left behind, refusing to be dismissed. Chains kicked the door shut behind us, but not before Lucifer slipped through, jumping onto the bed with an air of ownership.
“Out,” Chains ordered, pointing to the door. “Now.”
Lucifer stared back, yellow eyes unblinking, tail twitching in defiance.
“Lucifer,” I said, trying to sound stern despite the laughter bubbling up in my chest. “Go on. Out you go.”
The cat hissed at Chains before reluctantly slinking from the bed and out the door that Chains held open for him.
“Fuckin’ cat thinks he owns the place,” Chains muttered, securing the door. “Thinks he owns you.”
“Jealous?” I teased, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at him through my lashes.
“Damn right,” he growled, stalking toward me with predatory grace. “You’re mine, Ellie. I don’t share.”
The possessiveness in his voice should have bothered me. I’d spent years building my independence, protecting myself from needing anyone, but with Chains, I felt safe. Like I mattered. Belonged. Chains was my home. Wherever he was, that was home.
He stood before me, his broad shoulders blocking out the light, his blue eyes dark with hunger. I reached for him, tugging his shirt from his jeans with eager fingers.
“Show me,” I whispered. “Show me I’m yours.”
Chains needed no further invitation. He pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the tattooed expanse of his chest and stomach. I ran my hands over his skin, tracing the inked patterns, the raised scars, the geography of a life lived hard.
His fingers made quick work of my clothing, peeling away layers until I lay naked before him. The October chill in the room raised goose bumps on my skin, but his gaze burned hotter than any fire.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, his rough hands sliding up my legs, over my hips, my waist, cupping my breasts with a reverence that made my heart ache. “My beautiful little witch.” It was strange. I thought him calling me his little witch would bother me after seeing my father again. But it didn’t. The phrase coming from Chains felt like an endearment, and I knew I’d never view Halloween as anything other than the amazing, wonderful, fun holiday it was.