Page 47 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

“Oh my god,” I gasp, collapsing against him as giggles overtake me. “Your face!”

“My face?” He wraps his arms around me, both of us shaking with laughter. “You squeaked like a damn mouse!”

I bury my face against his neck, our bodies still intimately connected despite our ungraceful landing. “I did not squeak.”

“You absolutely did.” His chest vibrates with another laugh. “Like a tiny, startled mouse.”

The broken chair frame digs into my knee, and I shift to avoid it, inadvertently causing him to slide deeper inside me. Our laughter falters as pleasure replaces amusement.

“You okay?” he asks, his hands finding my hips.

“Better than okay,” I murmur, rolling my hips experimentally. The new angle sends sparks of sensation up my spine. “Though I think we've officially destroyed the chair.”

“We”ll buy a new one,” he groans as I begin to rock against him. “We'll buy ten.”

My head falls back, hair cascading down my spine as I find a rhythm that makes us both gasp. The ocean breeze caresses my naked skin, cooling the sweat that forms as we move together on the broken remains of the lounge chair.

Soren's hands guide my hips, helping me find the perfect angle as I ride him. His eyes never leave mine, watching with reverent hunger as I take my pleasure from his body.

“You're everything. Everything I never knew I needed.”

The tenderness in his voice contrasts with the urgency of our bodies, creating a perfect balance of love and desire that pushes me toward the edge again.

I lean down to capture his mouth, our tongues tangling as our bodies surge together.

His hands slide up my back, tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss.

We reach our climax together this time, my body clenching around him as he pulses inside me. I collapse against his chest, our hearts racing in tandem as we struggle to catch our breath. His arms wrap around me, holding me close as aftershocks ripple through both our bodies.

“I think,” I manage between gasps, “we may need to invest in sturdier furniture.”

Soren chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Or we could just stick to the bed from now on.”

“Where's the fun in that?” I trace lazy circles on his chest, feeling utterly content despite our ungraceful landing on the deck boards. “Besides, Shadow would never allow it.”

As if summoned by his name, an indignant yowl echoes from inside the house. Through the sliding glass door, I can see Shadow pacing back and forth, his tail twitching with obvious displeasure at being locked out of whatever we're doing.

“Poor baby,” I laugh, sitting up carefully. “He's probably wondering why we're wrestling on the deck without him.”

Soren's hands slide down my sides, reluctant to let me go. “Let him wonder. I'm not sharing you with that furry dictator right now.”

I lean down to kiss him softly, tasting myself on his lips. “We should probably get cleaned up before the neighbors start their morning jogs.”

“What neighbors?” He gestures toward the empty stretch of beach. “The seagulls?”

“Mrs. Henderson walks her dog every morning at nine,” I remind him, glancing at the sun's position. “And it's probably close to that now.”

As if on cue, the distant sound of barking drifts down the beach. Soren groans, helping me to my feet as we both scramble to gather our scattered clothes. The barking grows closer, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of jogging feet on packed sand.

“Shit,” I mutter, pulling his t-shirt over my head while Soren hops on one foot, trying to get into his sweatpants. “She's early today.”

“Or we lost track of time,” he says, finally managing to get dressed. He kicks the broken chair frame behind a large planter, though it does little to hide the evidence of our activities.

I'm smoothing down my hair when Mrs. Henderson's white terrier comes bounding up the beach access stairs, followed by the seventy-year-old woman herself. She's dressed in a bright pink tracksuit, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the ocean breeze.

“Good morning, Charlotte!” she calls out cheerfully, apparently oblivious to our disheveled appearance. “Beautiful day for being outside, isn't it?”

“Morning, Mrs. Henderson,” I reply, hoping I sound normal and not like a woman who was just sexed senseless on her deck. “Yes, it's gorgeous.”

Soren clears his throat, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Ma'am,” he nods politely.

Mrs. Henderson's eyes drift to the broken chair frame barely concealed behind the planter, then back to us with a knowing smile that makes my cheeks burn. “Having some furniture troubles, dear?”

“The wind,” I say quickly, heat flooding my cheeks. “It was...really windy this morning.”

Mrs. Henderson's smile widens. “Oh yes, I can see that. The wind can be quite...vigorous around here. Especially in the mornings.”

Soren coughs, clearly fighting back laughter. “Very vigorous,” he agrees solemnly.

“Well, you two enjoy your morning,” Mrs. Henderson says, tugging her terrier away from where he's sniffing around the broken chair remains. “And Charlotte, dear? Next time you might want to invest in something more...substantial. The weather can be unpredictable.”

She winks—actually winks—before continuing down the beach with her dog in tow, leaving us standing on the deck in mortified silence.

“Did she just—” I start.

“She absolutely did,” Soren confirms, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “I think our seventy-year-old neighbor just gave us furniture advice based on our sex life.”

I bury my face in my hands, groaning. “I can never look her in the eye again.”

“Are you kidding? I like her even more now.” Soren pulls me against him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “She's got style.”

Shadow's increasingly indignant yowling from inside finally breaks through our embarrassment.

I slide open the door, and the cat immediately darts between our legs, tail high with righteous indignation.

He circles us, sniffing suspiciously at our clothes before giving us a look that clearly communicates his displeasure at being excluded.

“Sorry, buddy,” I crouch down to scratch behind his ears. “Private human time.”

“He'll get over it,” Soren says, sliding the door closed behind us. “Probably planning his revenge as we speak.”

Shadow flicks his tail and saunters over to his bowl like a tiny, vengeful god. He sits, glares at it, then turns that judgmental stare on Soren.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soren says, crossing his arms. “You didn’t get off the bed. Actions have consequences, buddy.”

Shadow lets out a grumbling meow, as if deeply offended by the accusation.

I lean against the doorway, watching them.

This—this—is the life I didn’t believe I could have.

After everything. After the blood, the fear, the shattered pieces I’d clawed my way through just to survive… I somehow ended up here. Wrapped in the quiet chaos of love and healing and cats with attitude problems.

And I realize something as I watch Soren argue with my moody feline like it’s the most natural thing in the world:

I’d do it all again.

Every bruise. Every scar. Every moment I thought I wouldn’t make it.

Because it led me here.

To him.

To this.

To the life I finally believe I deserve.

“Don’t turn your back on me when I’m making a valid point!” Soren calls after Shadow as the cat stalks off. “We’re not done!”

I smile, heart full and steady.

Yeah. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.