“Fast,” I finish for her. “It’s okay. Don’t apologize. Never apologize.”

I rub my eyes and scrub a hand over my face to try to ease the blood now pounding in my head, then encourage Breanna to lie next to me.

Her body becomes pliant and she settles against my side again. This time her arm and leg drape over me. My fingers knot in her hair and I kiss her lips several times. Each of the kisses soft. Each of them a promise that this moment is forever burned in my brain.

She’s my girl now and I’ll do anything for her at any time. I’m in love with her.

Breanna snatches her bra, tank and sweater and I do my best to school my expression so she can’t tell how I’m admiring the view or of how I find her innocence cute when she slips the tank and sweater over her head and then clumsily puts on her bra underneath them.

Before me, she’d only kissed a boy and she’s in my territory now. We visited new areas and I want her to trust me enough to return to those places with me.

“Are you tired?” she asks. “Do you want me to leave?”

I’m fucking beat. “Stay.” It’s a request in the tone of an order.

“I have to leave in enough time to sneak out and make it home by four thirty.”

If she’s staying... “I’ll get you home in time.”

When she’s done rearranging, I tug on her hand to indicate for her to lie down next to me, and she does. Her head’s on my chest and my arm keeps her tucked close. My world, for the first time in years, is full of peace. “You’re my girl, Breanna. You’re my girl.”

If she says something back, I don’t hear it as dreams have already started to invade my mind. It’s no longer nightmares, but dreams of Breanna and an open field and her wrapped tight around me.

Breanna

I’M HIS GIRL. His statement brought on a wave of excitement mixed with an intense dose of fear. Razor’s chest rises and falls and his heartbeat against my ear is steady and strong. He flinches in his sleep and what I love is how he angles closer to me each time he readjusts.

I outline one of his bruises on his stomach with my fingertip and appreciate his chiseled chest. Walking away in the forest would have been the smart, logical Bre thing to do, but I like who I am when I’m with him. I like how, for once, I belong.

Razor has an angelic face, but he doesn’t look like a man old enough to be carrying a gun, protecting semi loads of goods, and whatever other responsibilities he has in being part of a motorcycle club. He shaved, so he has this smooth baby face I itch to caress, and the tips of his hair barely kiss his eyelids.

A light knock on the door and Razor rouses from his slumber. He opens his eyes as Rebecca pops her head in. “Are you decent?”

“Yeah,” Razor answers. “Come on in.”

Oh my freaking God, did she really ask that and would she be okay if we weren’t? Razor gives me a swift kiss before sitting up. “Rules are different here.”

“So you keep saying,” I mutter as I slip off the bed.

Razor pulls a shirt over his head, shrugs into his cut and then shoves his feet into his black boots. He grimaces once in the process and I wonder how it’s possible to hide the pain.

“You’re giving me too much credit, Rebecca,” Razor teases. “I’m still on the mend.”

Rebecca snorts. “You’re an eighteen-year-old boy. When it comes to girls, it’s amazing how fast you can recover.”

He chuckles, she laughs and I’m mortified because we did make out.

Rebecca genuinely grins at me. “You’ll get used to us. What’s taboo in the real world is fair game around us.” Then she speaks to Razor. “When are you introducing her to the club?”

Razor rises to his feet. “Now.”

“What?” I’m not the only one shouting the question. Rebecca appears equally horrified.

Razor leans down and kisses Rebecca’s cheek. “I’ll tell them I met her in the woods. None of this will blow over on you. I can’t have her sneaking out of here like I’m ashamed of her. She’s walking out of this clubhouse with her head held high.”

“I’m fine with sneaking out,” I offer, but neither of them are listening to me.

Rebecca smiles like my parents do at me when I win an academic award. She hugs him and avoids touching the patch on his back. “You’re such a good boy.”

It’s weird watching this moment. One that’s too intimate. One that I would have never thought of as possible for the Reign of Terror. It’s so...normal.

“With that said, no. One, Breanna looks like she’s about to pass out.”

He immediately glances over at me and I weakly wave.

“Two, we’re throwing a club dinner in your honor on Friday. That would be a better time to bring her. The Terror Gypsies will be here, so will all the kids. The board will also be more welcoming of her if you give them advance notice that you’re bringing a guest.”

“She’s special to me,” Razor says, and I can’t help the warm fuzzies he creates.

“They’ve been asking you to play by the rules and I understand how hard that is for you. Waiting until Friday will speak volumes. Waltzing her down now will upset them because we sneaked someone in without their permission. If you won’t do it for yourself or for me, do it for her.”

Razor keeps his gaze on Rebecca as he tilts his head to the door. As if she’s fluent in nonverbal communication, Rebecca leaves without a word.

He heads over to me and cups my face with his hands, and I could stay in his warmth forever. “You’re my girl, and I can’t let you leave like you don’t mean something. If sneaking you out makes you feel like shit, I’ll take you down now. If it makes you feel better to follow the rules, then I’ll bring you on Friday.”