Harlow #2
“It’s you.” Those two words stole every smart remark she had. Harlow stared at him, and Wade's expression softened. “You do this to me.”
Her chest tightened. “Wade.”
“I spent three weeks pretending I could stand across that fucking bar and act like you were just somebody who worked for me.” His hand slid into her hair. “I couldn't.”
Her throat tightened. “I thought you did a good job of it.”
“I was going crazy seeing you every day and not being able to touch you,” he said.
“I thought maybe you stopped wanting me,” she said.
His face hardened. “Never.” Harlow searched his eyes, and Wade leaned closer.
“I wanted you every fucking day.” His mouth brushed hers.
“Every time you walked into the bar.” Another soft kiss.
“Every time you argued with me.” Another.
“Every time you bent over to grab a bottle and made me forget what the fuck I was doing.”
Harlow laughed against his lips. “I knew you were looking at my ass.”
“Then you did that shit on purpose,” he said.
“Maybe,” she admitted.
“Evil woman,” he hissed. She kissed him, and Wade's hands moved over her back. He wasn’t rushing or taking anything that she wasn’t ready to give him.
He was exploring and remembering her every curve.
His palms traveled down her sides and settled at her hips again.
Harlow leaned into him. She loved the contrast of his rough beard against her skin, his hard body beneath her hands, and the gentleness he never seemed to realize he possessed.
Her fingers traced one of the tattoos across his chest, and Wade watched her.
“You missed me?” he asked.
She looked up. “Terribly.” His expression changed, and Harlow's hand slid around the back of his neck. “I hated going home with Princess every night.”
“You could've come back earlier,” he said.
“You could've asked me to come home,” she insisted.
“I was trying to give you space,” he reminded.
“You were being an idiot,” she countered.
“Yes, that’s already been established,” he grumbled.
She smiled, and Wade kissed her again, slower now.
The kiss deepened until Harlow forgot about the room around them.
His hand cradled the back of her head. Hers traveled over his shoulders, his chest, and his back—every place she'd spent three weeks remembering.
When Wade finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers. Both of them were breathing harder.
“Still sure?” he asked.
Harlow smiled. “Do you really have to ask that every five minutes?”
“Probably,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I need you to know you can change your mind,” he said. Her teasing disappeared. God, this man was going to end up breaking her.
Harlow touched his cheek. “And I need you to know I don't want to.”
Something fierce moved across his face. “Fuck.” He kissed her and Harlow wrapped her arms around him. Wade lifted her against his body, and she gave a startled laugh and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands supported her while her arms tightened around his neck.
“Show-off,” she breathed.
“Been waiting three weeks to do that,” he admitted.
“You've mentioned that,” she said.
“Gonna mention it a few more times.” His mouth found her throat again, and Harlow's eyes closed.
She felt the warmth of his skin through her clothes.
The strength of the arms holding her. The scratch of his beard and the press of his lips.
Every sensation seemed sharper after weeks without him.
She kissed the side of his neck, and Wade stopped walking.
Harlow smiled against his skin. “What?”
“Don't,” he warned.
“Don't what?” she asked.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered. She kissed him there again, and his grip tightened. “Fuck.”
Harlow laughed. “Interesting.”
“You're enjoying yourself,” he grumbled.
“Very much,” she said with a smile.
“Brat,” he accused.
“Asshole.” His mouth found hers again. For a while, they didn't move toward the bed at all.
They stayed right there in the middle of his bedroom, kissing like they had all the time in the world.
Maybe they did. That was the difference.
There was no warehouse tomorrow. No Frank waiting outside.
No father controlling her future. No reason to rush because the world might fall apart before morning.
Wade set her carefully on her feet. His hands remained at her waist.
Harlow stepped closer. “I proved I can live without you.”
His jaw tightened. “Still don't particularly like that part.”
She smiled. “I know.”
Her palm rested over his heart again. “But now I get to prove something else.”
“What?” he asked.
“I can come back because I want to.”
Wade stared at her, and then he released her wrist. His fingers threaded through hers instead. “Yeah.”
Harlow rose onto her toes and kissed him. “I choose you.”
Wade closed his eyes for a second, and when they opened again, all that rough intensity was back. “Say it again.”
She smiled. “I choose you.”
“Again,” he ordered.
“I choose you, Wade.” He kissed her so thoroughly she forgot whatever she'd planned to say next. By the time he finally started moving them toward the bed, Harlow was laughing against his mouth.
“What?” he asked.
“You,” she whispered.
“What about me?” he asked.
“You're still bossy,” she said.
“Yep,” he agreed.
“Still an asshole,” she added.
“Yep,” he said proudly.
“Still completely impossible,” she said.
“Probably,” he agreed, making Harlow smile. She pulled his mouth down until it hovered over hers.
“I didn't come back because I wanted you to change,” she said.
Something warm filled his eyes. “Thank fuck.” Then Wade carried her the last few steps toward the bed, and this time, when Harlow went with him, there wasn't a single doubt in her mind about why.
She wasn't being rescued, she wasn't hiding, and she wasn't running.
She was going exactly where she wanted to go, with the man she'd chosen.
And when Wade lowered her onto the mattress and looked down at her like she was the only damn thing in his world, Harlow reached for him.
“Come here,” she said, and he did. For most of her life, home had been somewhere somebody else controlled—her father's house, Frank's plans, and a future chosen for her.
Then she'd spent three weeks with Butcher and Princess, and she'd learned she could leave Wade.
She could live somewhere else. She could stand on her own, and after learning all that, she'd still gone back.
Not because she was running, but because she finally found her place in the world.
Home wasn't a cage anymore. Love wasn't ownership, and choosing Wade didn't mean giving up herself.
It meant she'd finally found a man who wanted Harlow exactly as she was—stubborn, difficult, independent, and his—only because she chose to be.
And tomorrow morning, she would wake up in Wade's arms because that was exactly where she wanted to be.
The End
What’s coming next from K.L. Ramsey? You won’t want to miss Book 3 of the Savage Bastards MC series. Ripper's Rage is coming in February 2027!