Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(55)

I leaned in. “I didn’t come over because I decided that I wasn’t going to become a mindless sex drone that obeyed your every barked command,” I whispered.

Zane’s form stiffened but I decided I was on a roll.

“I have discovered I can no longer continue to sneak over to your place under the cover of darkness and let this just be about sex. I want more. I need more,” I continued.

Zane’s eyes bore into me as I silenced myself. I ignored the part of me that screamed to take whatever I could get from this complicated man.

“So do I,” he said finally, his voice gravelly.

I jerked slightly in surprise.

“I want more from you, Mia,” he continued. “It’s not enough just having your body. I want more. All of you. Every inch,” he declared roughly.

I tried not to open my mouth out of shock. I was speechless. That didn’t happen, like ever. I had a response for everything.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Shelly broke the moment by placing two coffees between us.

I distractedly smiled and thanked her. For once, the appearance of coffee actually pissed me off.

Zane’s face had shuttered with Shelly’s arrival.

“Tonight,” he murmured once she had left. He stood and leaned across the table slightly. “Tonight, I claim every inch of you.”

With those words and a smoldering look, he was gone.

I sank back into my seat, feeling the urge to fan myself with my hands.

He couldn’t just say goodbye. No. He had to rock my world and make my lady bits do cartwheels and disappear into the night. Well, not the night, the early morning…but still.





Later that night, I was battling with butterflies as I crossed the street. Not like the normal ones that I had creeping over to Zane’s. Usually, I had guilt at leaving Lexie alone in the house while her harlot mother went and got herself laid. Then I would get butterflies knowing what Zane would do to me, how he would f*ck me. Finally, I got a different kind of butterflies, ones that told me to turn back, because they were terrified of the dismissal that was inevitable after he was finished giving me the best sex of my life. I never listened to those butterflies. But as I padded across the street something felt different. Something had changed. The claiming possessive gesture Zane had made not only in front of Clay, but my kid last night. The surprising and sensual admission at the coffee shop. Something was different. Something I wasn’t quite sure I was ready for.

On that thought, the door opened before I even made it to the front step. Zane’s eyes followed my short journey. When I was close enough he grabbed my arm, yanking me into the house. The door slammed and before I knew it, I was over his shoulder.

I let out a little squeal. “Zane! What are you doing?” I half screeched in surprise.

A hand cracked down on my ass and a stinging sensation exploded along my cheek.

“Shut up,” he commanded roughly. “We talk after. Now I’m going to f*ck you.” He threw me down on his bed roughly and before I even had time to think, his body covered mine. My whole body burned as he claimed my mouth like he was searing a brand onto my soul. His body covered mine, his hand on my neck. I could barely breathe as he continued his assault on my mouth. I didn’t think proper thoughts for long moments after that.

“Zane,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. I was surprised I was even able to speak while he pounded into me. This was different than any of the other times we had been together. It was furious, desperate, claiming. He was owning my body, making it his. I was loving every minute.

His hand spanned my throat and his eyes stayed glued to mine, the hard glint of arousal and something else, something deeper, searing through me.

“You’re mine now, Mia,” he grunted between thrusts.

I sucked in a breath at my building orgasm, unable to fathom his words.

He stopped moving and his hand tightened on my throat. The cords in his neck pulsed.

“Zane,” I whined, needing him to move, needing him to keep going.

“Mia,” he commanded, my eyes meeting his again. “Understand this. You. Are. Mine,” he told me roughly. The certainty, the promise behind his words made me pause. My mind moved past the need for pleasure, for release.

I stroked his face. “I’m yours,” I whispered, my words surprising me, not only the fact I meant them, but how I had felt like I had belonged to him for ages before.

He paused for a second, didn’t say a word, just stared. And with that stare, with those words, a little part of my shattered pieces melded back together.

Before I could contemplate this, he plunged into me once more. And for a long time after that, I couldn’t think of much but his body moving inside me.





“Is it time for words yet?” I asked quietly.

Zane’s arm tightened around me.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Can we not have a couple minutes more of silence before you try and yell at me and I have to f*ck you to shut you up again?”

I chewed my lip. Another whole sentence. That was like a record. I was nestled up against his hard chest, my hands quietly tracing the designs I knew were there. I was yet to be able to inspect them in the daylight. But something had changed tonight that gave me hope I might. Not only within Zane, but me also. I had thought I was happy keeping him at a distance, not turning this into something more. But I was kidding myself. Using my past as an excuse to hide the hurt that he didn’t want more. I convinced myself I didn’t either. But now I knew I did. And that scared the hell out of me.