12. Laina
12
LAINA
R yder leads me up a creaking staircase that winds above the massive garage, his boots heavy against the worn wood. I follow a few steps behind, clutching the strap of my bag tightly.
I’m still trying to get my bearings on what the hell is going on and where I’m at.
The air smells faintly of motor oil and leather, and the low hum of voices from the clubhouse drifts through the walls.
When we reach the top, Ryder gestures toward a plain wooden door at the end of a short hallway. “Welcome to your new digs,” he says with a smirk, pushing it open.
The apartment is... unexpected. It’s not as grimy or rough as I imagined a biker’s crash pad would be. The small common area is surprisingly clean, with a threadbare couch, a battered coffee table, and a TV mounted on the wall. The kitchenette to the side is stocked with mismatched dishes and an ancient coffee maker that looks like it’s seen better days. A faint scent of cedar, maybe from the wood-paneled walls lingers in the air, and a single window lets in a sliver of moonlight.
“It’s not much,” Ryder admits, leaning casually against the doorframe. “But it’s safe, and it beats the clubhouse.”
I step inside, my gaze sweeping over the space. “It’s... nice.”
Dagger’s voice cuts through the quiet as he appears from one of the other rooms, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Nice isn’t the word I’d use, but it’ll do.” His dark eyes land on me. “You’ve got the spare room. First door on the right.”
I nod, muttering a quiet thanks as Liam saunters in from the kitchenette, a mug of coffee in his hand.
I’m not sure if I should be thanking them.
It’s not like living with the Dead Demons is what I wanted. I chew frantically on my bottom lip feeling out of my element. Worse than a fish out of water, more like a fish that’s been teleported into a different universe.
“Make yourself at home,” Liam says, raising his mug in a mock toast. “We’re not exactly Martha Stewart around here, but we’re not complete savages either.”
“That’s debatable,” Ryder quips.
I glance at them, a hesitant smile tugging at my lips. No. They’re not savages, but they’re still technically my best friend’s enemies.
My teeth grind together.
I can’t worry about that right now—not with Reynolds out in the world, alive and running around.
I take a deep breath and move toward the spare room, curiosity getting the better of me.
“What about Ash?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. “Where does he stay?”
I had imagined they all bunked up together, afraid to be apart.
The atmosphere shifts slightly. Ryder’s smirk fades, and Liam raises an eyebrow at Dagger.
“Ash has his own place,” Ryder says, his tone more guarded now. “Across the lot. Bigger setup. He likes his space.”
“And his ex-girlfriend,” Liam adds with a wry smile, ignoring the sharp look Ryder shoots at him.
I pause, my hand resting on the doorframe and ask in surprise, “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Tessa,” Dagger spits out the name in distaste. “She’s... complicated.”
“What he means to say is she refuses to leave,” Liam elaborates, his tone lighter. “Keeps showing up, hanging around. It’s a whole thing.”
I don’t know why this information intrigues me, but it does. Maybe it’s the way Ash carries himself—cold, commanding, like nothing could touch him. The thought of someone lingering in his orbit, someone with enough pull to defy his rules, feels... unexpected.
“Good to know,” I say quietly, stepping into the spare room and closing the door behind me.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I look around, the room is small but clean. A twin bed is tucked against one wall, covered with a simple gray comforter. A wooden dresser sits in one corner, its surface scratched and worn, and a single lamp casts a soft, golden glow over the space.
”Home sweet home,” I mumble to myself. Just living with three dangerous biker guys. No big deal.
Three incredibly hot, muscular biker guys.
I press my fingers to my lips remembering Ryder’s kiss from just hours ago.
I drop my bag on the bed and sit down heavily, my shoulders slumping as the weight of everything crashes over me. The past few days have been a whirlwind of fear, uncertainty, and adrenaline, and now, sitting here in this quiet room, it all feels... too much.
I don’t know how to feel about any of this. About being here, about these men—these strangers who have somehow become my protectors.
With a heavy sigh, I kick off my boots and crawl into bed, letting myself collapse onto the worn comforter. The faint scent of cedar lingers in the air, grounding me just enough to keep the panic at bay.
I keep to myself the first morning, lingering in the bedroom and slipping out only to scrounge up some food from the little kitchenette.
Izzy tries calling me but I don’t answer and send a text instead telling her I’ve had a busy day. I don’t respond when she wants to know what with.
The guys have been more accommodating than I’d anticipated, though their personalities are as distinct as the rough edges of this place.
Later in the evening, when the apartment’s empty I plop down on the sofa in the living room wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt.
I have no plan, no idea how long I’m supposed to be staying here.
Who knows what Reynolds is doing in the meantime or how long it’s going to take to catch the asshole.
Just thinking about it makes my head swim.
I know I can’t stay in this apartment forever. It feels like I’ve been kidnapped all over again. I groan, tucking my knees to my chest as I stare at the faintly flickering TV.
I’ve been trying to distract myself with an old sitcom, but my mind refuses to settle. Every creak of the floorboard and every shadow that lurks in the corners makes my heart lurch.
“Mind if I sit?” Liam’s voice breaks the silence, smooth and unassuming.
I glance up, startled, and nod. He lowers himself onto the couch beside me. His lean, muscular frame folds with an ease that’s almost disarming.
“How you holding up?”
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I’m not entirely sure I want to have a heart-to-heart right now.
“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he says, leaning back and resting an arm along the back of the couch.
”Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
We stare at one another for a long while. I’m suddenly aware of how close he is, of the sweetness of his eyes and how dilated his pupils are. He smells like the forest and some sort of cedar-infused cologne. Liquid heat inches up through me.
I suck on the inside of my cheek.
”You can just see that on me?” I ask. “All the weight I’m carrying?”
”I see a lot of things about you, Laina.”
My fingers fidget with the hem of my sleeve and I reply in a quiet voice, “I keep thinking about him… about Reynolds.”
Liam tilts his head, his expression patient. “Go on.”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “He’s out there, Liam. I know it. I can feel it. And every time I think about what he did to me, what he’s capable of… I can’t help but wonder if I’m leading him right to you. To all of you.”
Liam’s gaze sharpens, but his voice remains calm. “You’re not leading him anywhere, Laina. He’s a snake, and snakes don’t follow—they slither in when you’re not looking. But you’re not alone in this anymore. You’ve got us.”
I shake my head, feeling my throat tighten. “The police won’t listen. They think he’s dead, cremated. To them, the case is closed. What if he’s using that to stay hidden? What if?—”
“Stop,” Liam says gently, his hand brushing against mine to still my fidgeting. “We’re not the police. And we’re not blind to what’s going on. If Reynolds is out there—and I’m not saying he isn’t—we’ll find him. And we’ll make damn sure he doesn’t get the chance to hurt you or anyone else ever again.”
My gaze drops down to my lap. His words are nice, but I don’t know if I can believe them.
“This is all just so fucked up and weird,” I sigh.
“Why don’t you try to relax for a bit? This place isn’t much, but it’s safe. And I don’t know. I think we’re fun.”
“Scary, maybe, but I don’t know about fun.”
“Scary?” He tilts his head fully amused.
“Yeah. And demanding.”
“That’s the others. I’m not like them.”
“Then what are you like?” I ask, meeting his intense gaze.
”You’re just going to have to stick around and find out, beautiful.”
Beautiful? I wish such a stupid, simple word wouldn’t make me melt, but here I am turning into melted butter, oozing right into the couch. How long could I possibly last here without losing my cool?
Dagger finds me in the kitchen early the next morning, nursing a cup of coffee like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. “You sleep?” he asks shortly. His voice is gruff but not unkind.
“Not much,” I admit, staring into the dark liquid.
“Nightmares?”
“How’d you know?” I ask slightly embarrassed. He motions to the bedrooms.
“We share a wall.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. You can wake me up or one of the other guys. Hell, Liam, is usually always up wandering around the apartment. He’s a fucking insomniac.”
“Thanks.” I’m still staring down at my coffee, unsure of what to say. Dagger walks over to me until he’s standing directly in front of me. His massive form could swallow mine.
“I know it means shit, and words are just words, but I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Laina.” He gives me a half smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Get used to the noise here. It’ll drown out the rest of the world if you let it.”
Later, Ryder catches me in the garage where he’s tinkering with his bike. “You keep pacing like that, and you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips.
“I can’t sit still,” I snap, but there’s no real bite to my words.
“Try it sometime,” he quips, standing up with a damp towel in his hands. “Or, you know, pick up a wrench and make yourself useful.” He winds it up and before I can react, he whips it and smacks my ass.
It stings through my jeans and my cheeks flame a bright red.
“Fuck you!”
“That’s the spirit,” he laughs before pointing to the wrench near my hand. “That’s the one I need.”
I roll my eyes and hand it to him begrudgingly. A cocky grin appears on his lips.
“You know you liked it.”
”I’m not saying anything,” I mutter as I hurry out of the garage to wander back to the apartment. I needed to leave him before I let my stupid body take over.
Ash, true to form, is the hardest to read.
He’s hardly been around, but we eventually cross paths in the hallway late one night, his dark eyes studying me. I’m starting to think he hates me. He stops in front of me, watching.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Going for a walk. What else am I supposed to do?”
He doesn’t answer the question but pushes past me and goes toward the clubhouse.
The nightmare comes fast and sharp like it always does. Reynolds’ voice snaking through the darkness, low and mocking, wrapping around me like chains. The air feels heavy and suffocating. When I try to move, I can’t. My feet are rooted, my arms pinned, and his shadow looms ever closer, his laugh curling through the air like smoke.
The doll he’s made of me holds my ankles, while another looms over my head pinning my wrists down. It stares at me with its own dead lifeless eyes.
”You belong to me, Laina,” Reynolds cackles around me as the burning iron heat of his hand falls onto my neck.
I wake up with a gasp, my body jerking forward in the bed. My skin is slick with sweat, the room spinning as I try to catch my breath. The blankets feel too heavy and tight, and I shove them off, swinging my legs over the side of the mattress. My hands shake as I run them through my hair, the echo of his voice still clinging to my ears.
It’s not real. I’m not there. He’s not here.
But no matter how many times I tell myself that, it doesn’t feel true.
I glance at the clock. It’s just after three in the morning. The clubhouse is quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an eerie stillness. I should lie back down and try to get some more sleep, but the thought of closing my eyes again makes my stomach churn.
Before I can stop myself, I’m on my feet, my heart hammering wildly as I make my way out of the room. My steps are quiet as I head toward Dagger’s room. I don’t know why I go there—maybe because he’s steady and calm with the kind of presence that makes the shadows in my head seem a little less threatening. Or maybe because after everything that’s happened between us, I don’t feel completely alone when he’s around.
His door is closed and there’s no light coming from underneath. I hesitate, my hand hovering near the handle. If he’s asleep, I shouldn’t wake him. My nightmare isn’t his problem. But the ache in my chest wins out, and I slowly push the door open.
The room is empty.
The bed is neatly made, the space quiet and untouched. My stomach twists, and a wave of disappointment washes over me. I don’t know where he is, but he’s not here, and suddenly the silence feels unbearable.
Liam and Ryder’s doors are locked. I shake my head.
I just need to get some fresh air.
I meander outside the Dead Demon’s headquarters, under the cold night sky, and see a light on in the garage with Dagger bent over a workbench.
I step inside, drawn by the faint clinking of metal on metal. He’s hunched over something, his back to me. The dim light catches on the tattoos that snake down his arms. His movements are controlled and precise, like everything he does, and for a second, I just watch him.
He doesn’t notice me until I clear my throat. “Didn’t know you were a mechanic.”
He glances over his shoulder, his face half-shadowed but softening when he sees me. “I’m a man of many talents,” he says, setting his wrench down on the bench. “What are you doing down here?”
“I needed air,” I admit, stepping deeper inside.
He nods like he gets it. “The garage is quiet. Nobody bothers me here.” He pauses, then gestures toward a stool near the bench. “You can stay if you want.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” he says simply as he turns back to the engine he’s working on. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. The faint hum of the overhead lamp and the rhythmic clink of his tools fill the space. It’s steady and soothing.
After a while, he speaks again, “You ever think about defending yourself?”
“What?”
“You’re in the middle of all this now; Reynolds, the club, everything. It’s not safe.” He turns toward me, crossing his arms. His gaze is steady, direct. “Do you know how to handle yourself if things go south?”
I blink, my stomach twisting. “I can run. I’m pretty good at that.”
“Running’s not always enough.”
I frown, shifting on the stool. “So, what are you saying? That I should learn how to fight?”
“I’m saying you should know how to defend yourself.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a knife from his waistband. The blade catches the light as he holds it out to me, handle first. “Starting with this.”
I stare at the knife. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack. Go on. Take it. It might help you sleep at night”
I reach out, my fingers brushing against his as I take the knife. It’s heavier than I expected and feels cold and solid in my hand. I hold it awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
“Not like that.” He steps closer and explains patiently, “You’ll lose your grip if you’re not careful.” He moves behind me, his hands closing over mine. His touch is firm but warm, and I try not to focus on how close he is.
But it’s nearly impossible to focus on anything but that.
“Your thumb goes here,” he murmurs, guiding my fingers. “Grip it like this—strong, but not so tight that you lock up. Keep your wrist steady.”
“Okay. Now what?”
“Depends,” he says, his hands still on mine. “But the first thing you need to know is how to hold your ground. If someone comes at you, don’t panic. Focus instead. Every move has a purpose.”
He moves my arm, showing me how to slash, and how to hold the blade defensively. His hands are warm, his breath brushes against my ear as he speaks. I try to ignore the way my pulse picks up.
“What if I mess up?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intended.
“You will,” he says, and I can hear the faint smile in his tone. “But you’ll get better. That’s why you practice. Knowing you can fight back? That’s half the battle.”
I tilt my head slightly, catching his gaze. His dark eyes are steady and unreadable. “Why are you doing this?”
His lips twitch into a small smile, but his eyes stay serious. “Because I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and unspoken. My grip on the knife tightens. I swallow hard and whisper, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, stepping back and letting go of my hands. The absence of his touch leaves me colder than I want to admit. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
I barely have time to adjust to the space between us before Dagger steps forward again, reaching for the blade in my hand. His fingers curl around mine, firm and deliberate, and he tilts his head, his breath warm against my temple.
“Let me show you something else,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “It’s not just about holding the knife. It’s about knowing how to use it when someone’s in your space.”
I nod, though my heart is hammering in my chest. He steps behind me again, closer this time, his chest brushing against my back. The scent of leather and smoke surrounds me, it feels grounding and overwhelming all at once.
“Say someone grabs you,” he murmurs, his tone almost hypnotic. “You’re not stronger than them, so you use their momentum against them.” His free hand settles lightly on my hip, positioning me. “If they’re close, like this…” his grip tightens slightly, emphasizing the closeness, “you don’t fight it. You use it.”
I swallow hard, acutely aware of the heat of his body against mine. His pelvis presses against my backside. Every inch of him is against me. “What do I do?” I manage to mutter.
His fingers shift mine on the knife, angling it downward. “You aim for something vital.” He guides my hand toward the imaginary target, his own body pressing more firmly against mine as he moves us in unison. “Quick, clean, no hesitation.”
I adjust my grip, following his movements, and this time, he lets me take the lead.
“Good,” he says, his breath brushing against my neck. “Again.”
I try it, mimicking the motion he’s shown me. When I falter, he steps even closer, his hand bracing mine, his other still resting against my hip. I can feel the strength in his touch, the tension coiled in his frame, but it’s not threatening. It’s controlled and protective.
And it’s turning me on.
I suck in a deep breath not sure how many more of his close-encounter drills I can handle before I turn to jello.
“You’re a quick learner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from my ear. “But you need to trust yourself more. Think of the knife as an extension of you. It’s not just a weapon—it’s your edge.”
I tilt my head slightly, my breath catching as I glance back at him. “What if I don’t have one?”
“You do,” he says. “You just don’t see it yet.”
For a moment, the air between us shifts. The garage, the knife, the lessons—they all fade into the background, and it’s just us.
“There’s a lot I want to teach you, Laina,” he whispers. “So much that I want to do with you, to you…”
His eyes wander down to my lips then dip lower. My heart is about to explode. It’s exactly how I felt the moment Ryder kissed me. All I hear is the pounding of my heart.
“Show me,” I say softly.
All at once his mouth finds mine.
His lips are warm and soft, and I'm so caught off guard that for a moment, I don't react. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and my heart thuds wildly in my chest. Then, as if a dam has broken, all the tension between us gives way, and I lean into the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair.
His hands find their way down to my waist, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss.
“Oh, Laina,” he murmurs onto my lips before his tongue finds mine and I taste him.
I melt into his embrace, my body pressing against his as the knife clatters to the ground. His touch is fevered and hungry, but so is mine. We sway together in a heated dance, lips and tongues entwined in a desperate hunger we've been denying for too long.
All the stress and fear melts out of me.
His hand slides up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he angles my head, deepening the kiss. My other senses heighten; the rasp of his stubble on my cheek, the musky scent of his cologne, and the steady thudding of our hearts beating out a frantic tune through our clothes.
Suddenly, Dagger's fingers trace the edge of my shirt where it meets my jeans. Electricity shoots through me at the lightest touch, and I can't help but arch into him. He groans into our kiss, fueled by my response.
He breaks away for air but just long enough to rain hot kisses down my jawline and then lower... lower still until he's claiming my exposed neck with firm suction.
His hands now on my hips, lift my shirt just enough to expose my stomach. His tongue drags over my skin, and I moan louder, unable to contain myself any longer. He growls in approval, spurring me on.
"Dagger," I whisper, neediness lacing my voice as he continues to tease me with his lips and hands. His name sounds like a prayer on my lips, a plea for more of this.
In response, he grasps my hips tighter and slowly draws me up on my tiptoes as he presses himself closer to me. Heat pools between my legs, and I can't help but grind against him, seeking relief from the ache he's stirred within me.
His hands possessively slide up my back before slipping under my shirt, his fingers skimming the curves of my back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I whimper as his hands travel higher, cupping my breasts through my bra. My nipples harden against the lace, aching for more of his touch.
“Dammit, Laina,” he mutters. “You’re going to make me fucking lose it.”
Spurred by his words, I push my core hungrily against the painful erection beneath his pants. I thought intimacy was ruined for me, but being here with him, I’ve never wanted it more in my life.
Dagger's lips return to mine, this time with even more urgency. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, dueling with mine as he expertly plays with my breasts. Every flick of his tongue and twist of his wrist sends white-hot desire coursing through me.
His hand slides lower, slipping under the waistband of my jeans, and I gasp in surprise as his fingertips find the damp heat between my legs. He growls approvingly against my lips before delving further, parting folds that are slick with anticipation.
"God," he mutters, his voice raw with desire, "I've wanted this for so long."
"Then why did you wait?" I manage to gasp between panting breaths. He smiles, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes as he whispers in my ear, "Patience, Laina. A good fighter always knows when to strike."
I clench around his fingers as darts of pleasure shoot through me and every nerve in my body screams for more.
"I...I've wanted you too," I confess, unable to form coherent sentences anymore.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I don't care anymore. I've been holding back for so long, and now that the dam has burst, there's no turning back.
Dagger's grin widens, arrogant and full of desire. "I know," he whispers back thickly. His hand glides down my back, slips beneath the hem of my shirt, and grips my ass firmly. He squeezes, pressing me even harder against him as he continues his pumping between my legs.
"Dagger," I moan, biting my lip to stifle the sound that threatens to escape my lips. He knows how sensitive I am there, and he's not above using it against me. He chuckles darkly but doesn't stop teasing me, circling a particularly sensitive spot with his middle finger until I'm trembling and on the verge of orgasm.
His other hand leaves my hip, finding its way to my drawstring. In a flash, my sweatpants are pooled around my ankles, and he’s gathering up my shirt, taking it off with my bra.
He lowers his head to kiss my exposed, aching breasts.
“The others want to fuck you,” he says to me.
“What?”
“They want you,” he repeats as his finger slowly continues to ease in and out of me. “Liam, Ryder, and maybe Ash. But I wanted you first.”
Dagger's finger curls within me, hitting a particularly sensitive spot, and I arch my back, unable to contain a moan of pleasure. He chuckles darkly, hearing the sound I make in response to his explicit words.
"Do you like that thought, Laina?" he purrs in my ear, his lips brushing against my sensitized skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Do you like the idea of them wanting you? Of each of us having a turn with you?”
“I—uh—oh God!” I can’t form words, but I would be lying if I said no. It’s exactly what I want to hear. The thought of all of them pleasuring me, tasting me, their cocks in my mouth… it’s what I want.
His hands shake slightly as he undresses, revealing a lean, muscular frame.
"Fuck," I breathe as I take in his naked body. The muscles combined with the ink-covered skin and scars is so hot, he’s like a walking wet dream come to life.
He flashes me a cocky grin, enjoying the effect he was having on me. "God, when you look at me like that..." he trails off and grabs my hips roughly, pulling me against him.
"Don't worry, Laina. I'll take it slow. Tonight, at least." His eyes dance with mischief, but there’s something else there too—something vulnerable and hopeful that sets my stomach fluttering in anticipation.
He lifts me up and wraps my legs around his sturdy waist, holding me with one arm as though I’m nothing to him.
He rains scorching kisses along my jawline, tasting every inch of my skin. His tongue circles my nipple, flicking it lightly before closing his mouth over it, and sucking gently. I arch my back, moaning loudly as pleasure courses through my body.
Then in one breath, the tip of his massive cock presses against my wet pussy. My arms curl around his neck as he holds me up and against him.
“Go slow," I gasp as Dagger's hardness teases my entrance. He growls low in his throat, his voice a mix of lust and determination.
"As slow as you need, Laina," he rasps in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. Slowly, excruciatingly so, he gently presses into me, stretching me in ways I never thought possible. His every movement is calculated, millimeter by agonizing millimeter as if he’s trying to memorize every part of me.
I bite my bottom lip to stifle the moans escaping my lips as Dagger fills me completely, our bodies now intertwined in a way I never thought possible. Tension builds within me, coiling tighter with each shallow breath I take. The pressure between my legs is almost unbearable... It's both maddening and exhilarating at the same time.
"Look at me, Laina.”
I open my eyes and meet his gaze. I see something raw and vulnerable in them... something that steals my breath away more than our current situation ever could.
“Relax,” he breathes against my neck. "Feel it."
Slowly, he starts to move within me at an achingly slow pace that has the muscles of my core clenching around him. With each thrust, Dagger growls low in approval, the primal sound sending shivers down my spine.
"G-god, Dagger..." I moan digging my nails into his broad shoulders as he continues to rock into me, his body hot and hard against mine. It feels so good, better than anything I could ever have imagined possible.
Sparks of pleasure dance across my skin with each thrust, and before long, the world narrows down to just the two of us as our bodies move in perfect harmony.
The intensity grows between us and we gasp and moan into each other's mouths as our movements become less restrained and more frantic with each passing second.
"I've wanted this," Dagger pants against my lips between thrusts, "for so damn long." He grabs my hips tighter, guiding me into a rhythm that has me teetering on the edge of orgasm. "You feel so... unbelievable."
"Dagger," I whimper his name like a prayer as the first waves of ecstasy crash over me. My inner muscles clench around him spasmodically.
His pace quickens in response to my climax, his thrusts growing more urgent as he chases his own peak. "God, Laina... I'm not going to last much longer," he grunts between clenched teeth, his body tense and rigid above mine. I feel his cock throbbing within me, and a primal sense of satisfaction surges through me at knowing I had reduced the cocky fighter to this.
As our breathing slows and our heartbeats return to normal, Dagger reluctantly pulls out of me, letting out a shuddering breath.
"That... that was..." I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what had just happened between us.
Crazy. Amazing. The best sex ever.
Dagger chuckles softly, his chest vibrating beneath my cheek. He tips my chin upward with a gentle finger and kisses me tenderly.
“Don’t think I won’t be back for more.”