Page 39 of Holley Jolly Biker

Two glasses.

A box of chocolates.

Once I took this all in with a wide smile on my face, he said, “Any man who is a man at all is okay with allowing himself to be bare in front of the person he loves. And that’s the one thing in this world that I want to be known for. Lovin’ you and Soraya.”

“I’m yours. Completely.” Then he held out a hand to me and said, “Will you be mine?”

Placing my hand in his, I grinned, “For the second time in my life, my head and my heart are in complete agreement. Yes.”

He lifted a brow as he pulled me closer to him, “The second time?”

I placed my free hand on his chest and smiled, “When I met Soraya for the first time.”

If I hadn’t been looking close enough, I would have missed it.

But I watched as tears filled the corners of this big man’s eyes.

His head moved just asI’ve hungered for your touch a long, lonely timeplayed over the speakers.

Then I couldn’t tell you where he started and I ended.

Fingers moved.

Lips skimmed.

Toes curled.

Backs arched.

Moans.

Groans.

Heat.

Passion.

Wickedness.

And as he moved in and out of me in a delicious rhythm, I happened to glance at one of the glass ornaments.

Damn.

But we looked good together.

Damn good.

Never has it been this good.

Just as I thought that, I felt his lips skimming along my spine as he said huskily, “Never had it this fuckin’ good.”

The blankets were in a disarray, tangled around our legs. His sweat mingled with mine.

And never have I hungered for another person’s touch like I do with Saint.

And there, as the fire danced in the candlelight, my head pillowed on his chest, I whispered, “I love you too.”

And I did.