CHAPTER 10
ADDYSON
When Briggs puts me down, the echo of the door slamming closed behind us pulses through the room while I sway slightly. His large hands are there to steady me. But it’s not just my body he holds.
It’s more.
So much more.
The reason I stayed in Magnolia Point wasn’t because I felt tied to the place where I grew up. I simply didn’t feel the pull to anywhere else. I was content with what I knew, but right now all I feel is possibility.
It’s exciting. And more than a little terrifying.
“What was that?” My voice comes out far weaker than I would like, but I’m kind of at a loss here.
Before I can stop myself, my mouth keeps moving, “You’ve gotta work with me here, Briggs.
I walked through the doors of the clubhouse last night and you had a redhead draped all over you.
A redhead who, I come to find out, is appropriately named Sin.
Her nipples were poking through her top,’” my face twists up in disgust before I can stop myself.
“Golly, I wonder why more of the Old Ladies, sisters, and kids don’t hang out at the clubhouse. ”
“Jealous?” He arches an eyebrow, the challenge clear on his face.
I give him a long look before shaking my head. “At least you’re pretty,” my voice is mocking and he stiffens and narrows his eyes. I have to ask, “That’s all you got from what I said?”
He shrugs and holds his hand out to me as if offering himself up for sacrifice. Tempting. Very fucking tempting.
“I’m going to level with you, Addyson,” his voice is husky, “and it’s going to make me sound like an asshole.”
I don’t miss the way his eyes rake over my body, and his hands clench at his sides like he has to stop himself from reaching for me. The feeling is utterly mutual.
“I have a feeling asshole is kind of a job title requirement for you in most situations,” I offer, an olive branch of sorts. A small one that gives him some leeway.
“I didn’t once think about the fact that Old Ladies and women related to the club don’t spend time in the clubhouse.
I certainly never considered kids hanging out here,” he admits, his shoulder slumping slightly as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Not until tonight when I was watching you chat with Mom. I realized I have a problem on my hands. We haven’t been welcoming to the women in our lives. ”
“Only the angels,” I point out, unable to help myself.
At least I don’t sound half as snarky as I feel. I still don’t like the memory of Sin hanging all over him. Sure, I don’t really have a right to feel any sort of way about it, but that doesn’t mean my feelings just vanish. I have them, they just don’t have any real weight.
Briggs winces and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. “Yeah,” he grunts.
“Look,” I jump back in before he starts to squirm or get defensive, “we both have pasts. This conversation really isn’t about that. You can do whatever you want to do. You’re a single man and that’s whatever,” I wave my hand dismissively knowing I need to get back on track.
Suddenly, there is zero space between us with Briggs pressing his body against mine, his much larger body. “What do you mean you have a past?”
The way he growls the question has me craning my neck back to look up at him. I pat his chest, the action placating and more than a little patronizing, my voice level, “While I’m sure I’m not as experienced as you are, Briggs, I am certainly not some blushing virgin.”
His large hand covers my mouth, and my eyes go so wide they feel like they’re going to pop out of my head. He is not really covering my mouth to stop me from talking. Is he? He couldn’t be. I’m a grown ass woman and this is ridiculous.
“Tempest,” there’s a warning in his voice, “how about we make a rule that you don’t talk about anyone you were with prior to me.”
My eyebrows pull together because I know he said something about keeping me last night or something. He’s also been kind of clingy for a biker. Still, it’s always dangerous to base major life decisions on vibes and eye contact, you know?
“Here’s what I’m putting on the table,” he offers, “you ready to hear it? You asked what that was down there?” I nod slowly, his hand still covering my mouth, but his touch is gentle. “That was me claiming you for the entire club to see.”
“What?” When the question comes out muffled, I bat his hand away from my mouth and he drops it easily. I repeat, “What?”
“Tallulah has told you some things? About club life?” I nod and try not to get distracted by his lips. “I didn’t slip a cut on your back tonight, but it wasn’t far off. I made my intentions very well known.”
My mind races, but one thing stands out. “You claimed me?”
When the callouses on his fingers slide along the soft skin of my cheeks as he cups them, it feels like he’s casting a net and collecting all the pieces of me. “You’re mine.”
The words sound simple, but the way they reverberate through me leaves me feeling wrecked and realigned. I’m not sure whether I like it or not.
“I’m in,” he murmurs, “All the way in. You’re not going to New Orleans.
” I try to rear back from him, but he holds me.
In place. Close. Where he wants me. Steady.
“I get that I have to earn your loyalty, Addyson. I will, and you’ll give me what I already know belongs to me.
Your safety is guaranteed either way, but I’m not the type of man to wait to go after what’s mine. ”
Well. Okay then.
Something simmers in my brain and the only thing I can think about, the only thing I crave is to not live with the weight of the last three days. Three days. How is it not a lifetime by now?
One thing I’m sure about is that Briggs will make me forget. I just have to give myself to him.
Easy enough.
“You’re claiming me?” As he nods, I lick my lips and his eyes sharpen to something predatory as he tracks the movement. My words are a challenge, “Then you better do it right.”
I press my body against his, the pressure a tease, a plea, a moment of desperation written in muscle and shape. He’s slipping. It’s written all over his face.
“Do it,” my lips move but I don’t even know if the words find voice. His eyes flare either way, because I’m the only thing he sees. Having his intensity focused on me is wild. Intoxicating. It makes me feel powerful. “Take me.”
Then the stillness, the moment right before everything changes, shatters. He’s all movement.
I’m up and in his arms right before my back hits his bed, the softness of it welcoming. My legs part and my hands grip his large shoulders, as I gasp in surprise.
The tip of his nose runs up the length of my neck and my body arches up into his in response. It’s so damn good. He kisses back down the same path, and my brain becomes awash with pleasure that feels like it’s too good to be true.
“Fuck me,” he groans, “you’re going to be so much fun to play with. You’re so responsive. Already panting and I’ve barely even touched you.”
His words are whispered along my skin with reverence, with anticipation. My nipples pebble and I want his mouth there. I can almost feel it, the ghost of a promise he’s made without knowing it.
When his fingers wrap around my throat, my eyes pop open and I’m met with a smirk that is all debauchery.
“There you are, Tempest,” he murmurs, his voice a tether.
“The last three days have been big,” he starts and my eyes narrow while my nails bite into his shoulders in warning.
“I want you to be sure. Once I have you, that’s it.
Run and I chase you. Leave and I follow. ”
“Briggs,” I sigh.
Part of me wants to argue and list all the ways that this is silly.
But then I remember how romantic I thought it was when Scythe showed up in Magnolia Point and met Tallulah.
The next thing you know, he’s saying she’s his, and he’s here for her while she closes her family’s record shop.
He was all in, the forever kind of all in.
I’m a little afraid to hope.
And I’m willing to take the risk.
I’d regret it if I don’t.
“I’m sure.” I pull him down to me, but I know he wouldn’t move if he didn’t want to. His lips hover right above mine. “I want you. I want this. Make me forget, chase away this numbness.” My body arches toward him, needing, begging, echoing my words. “Please.”
Briggs presses me into the mattress and buries his face in my hair. He takes a deep breath before pulling back slowly. When he sits back on his heels, I can see the hunger written on his face. He undresses me with deft movements.
I can feel the mastery he has when it comes to his control. I want to see it snap. The thought has me shivering.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Briggs quickly gets me down to just my panties and my hips lift automatically when he hooks his fingers in the sides. “That’s it,” he groans, “what a good girl.”
My pussy gushes and my thighs try to clench, but he’s there, sitting between them. He guides my panties down my legs, his large frame following them like they’re a treasure he’s just discovered.
When he stands at the edge of the bed, I can’t look away while he undresses. His movements are precise, efficient, and not at all rushed. The thought of tearing my eyes away from him, of not watching the show, is unfathomable.
His cut is the only piece of clothing treated with any reverence. The rest might as well be paper with the way he tears at his clothing. The desperation in his movements only makes me want him more.
My man is looking at me like he’s hungry. And I’m here for it.
Watching him is a tease and by the time he’s standing next to the bed naked, my thighs are damp with how fucking wet I am.
He reaches into the bedside drawer, pulls out a condom, which he opens with his teeth, before rolling it into place.
When my hands cup my tits and I brush my fingers against my hard nipples, the feral sound that comes out of the back of my man’s throat is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.