Page 50 of Property of Anchor

We broke apart just long enough for her to whisper, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

My hand slid down to her ass.Full, round, and more than a handful.I gave it a squeeze and groaned.“Fuckin’ perfect,” I murmured against her neck.“Overflowing handful.Just the way I like it.”

She shivered and leaned into me.“It’s nice to know you like me.It’s hard out there for a curvy girl.”

“Not anymore,” I said, and tightened my hold.“Because I’m the only one you need to worry about now.”

She wrapped her arms around my neck and looked up at me with that big, open stare.“Pretty sure that should terrify me,” she said, “but really all it does is turn me on… and make me want to take you back to bed.”

I grinned and spread my arms wide.“I’m not stoppin’ you, doll.”

Her fingers ran down the middle of my chest, slow and teasing.“You don’t have important club things to do?”

I did.A hundred damn things, actually.But nothing that felt more important than the woman standing in front of me.

“Nothing that can’t wait a couple of hours.”

She stepped into me fully, rising on her toes to kiss me again.Slow and hungry, full of everything that had been building between us for days.

And when her hands tugged me back toward the bed, I went willingly.

Chapter Nineteen

Anchor

Pearl had tried to shower twice.Both times, she’d made it halfway to the bathroom before I dragged her back to the bed.

Couldn’t blame a man.She was temptation wrapped in soft curves, smelling like me and still flushed from the way I’d worshipped her all morning.But eventually, I let her go, told her I had to head to the clubhouse to check in on things.

I left her at the cabin, swearing I’d only be gone an hour.

It’d been forty-five minutes, and all I could think about was going back.

Skull was parked at the bar, flipping through a clipboard of supply orders.Prime and Post were arguing about whether they needed more smoke machines or if the ones we had were enough to fog out a funeral home.Normal Sunday bullshit.

Then the door slammed open, and Lost came flying in like he’d just lit his damn shoes on fire.

“Boss!Boss!”he shouted.

I twisted around on my stool.“Jesus, Lost.You got a damn bullet in you or what?”

“No.I was cleaning out one of the coffin displays,” he huffed, and wiped sweat from his brow.“The big one by the torture chamber.Fucking teens had stuffed trash wrappers, soda cans, even a damn condom wrapper in there.”

“That’s Skull’s section,” I muttered.

Skull grunted.“Bastards.I throw away my shit.”

Lost pulled a small black USB drive from his pocket and held it up.“This was taped to the bottom of the inside lid.”

Skull straightened.“You look at it?”

Lost shook his head.“Didn’t have anything to stick it in.”

Skull chuckled darkly.

“Cross!Get the laptop,” I called.

Cross jogged in from the hallway with the battered black club laptop.He handed it over to Skull, who opened it on the bar and inserted the drive.