Strip You Bare (21 page)

He shook his head. “Not one. Never.”

“Good,” she said.

“Sounds awfully possessive of you, baby,” he said.

“It is,” she said. “I am.”

“That’s not how this works. Though it might be how we work. I’m yours. You’re mine.”

“I’m okay with that,” she said.

“Tell me,” he said, “with everything you know about me, why do you want me? Why do you love me?”

“That’s an easy one,” she said. “I love you because you were the first person to really love me.”

“I didn’t say I loved you till just now,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “But you showed me you did. You . . . wanted me. Not who you thought I should be. But me. You wanted me as I was.”

“That’s pretty amazing. Because you did the same for me,” he said, voice rough.

“I suppose I did,” she said.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he asked.

“I do. Because of you.”

Micah looked at the woman in his arms, and for the very first time, he had a sense of being in the right place. In the right skin.

There was a feeling of homecoming that people often waxed lyrical about. It was immortalized in songs, in literature, and in film.

All of it paled in comparison to this. To her.

Home, for him, wasn’t just a place, though New Orleans, the Priory, were certainly important. Home was a person.

It was her.

It was the brotherhood.

Ajax walked in from the courtyard then, stopping when he saw Micah, standing there holding Sarah.

“I knew you’d be back,” he said, nodding once before heading up the stairs.

“Well,” Micah said, “I guess that means he isn’t going to kill me.”

Sarah laughed. “That’s good. Because I’d rather have you alive. You know . . . for things.”

“What kind of things?” he asked.

A wicked smile curved her lips. “Why don’t you take me back to the mansion and let me show you?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisting her over his shoulder. She laughed, the sound washing over him like a wave. She wiggled against him, and he put his hand on her ass, holding her tight. “I have a better idea, baby,” he said. “How about I show you?”

Micah “Prince” Carpenter had always felt like a whole lot of layers of people stuck together. A kid from the streets who wanted something better, an outlaw biker who finally had the power he craved. The real estate mogul who finally had the money he’d always desired.

But in bed with his princess, Sarah, he was just one man. He wasn’t at odds with himself or the world or anything else.

It was Sarah who made it all fit. Because he’d explored each and every one of those pieces. Had lived all those lives.

But she was the one who made life feel right. Made it feel like it was worth living.

Life in the MC was different now that they’d gone legit. And while Micah had passed the day-to-day running of his company to other people, he was still generating a strong income—both for the club and for himself.

He was still Prince, after all.

And even though he was involved deeply in the MC, and Sarah was too, he still wanted to keep her in a certain level of comfort.

They might be living an unconventional life, but Sarah was from a world full of convention. He knew she liked to buck against it.

As she’d just spent the past hour showing him. A year into this thing and he still made her scream. Yeah, she liked to revel in her newfound freedom. But he also wanted to make sure he honored where she came from.

That was why he’d bought a very big, very traditional diamond ring. That was why, once he was done kissing every inch of her naked body, he was going to get down on his knees and ask her to be his wife.

Sarah sauntered back into their bedroom, completely naked, looking every inch like the refined southern belle she’d been raised to be, even though he’d just watched her suck his dick. That contrast never failed to make him hard.

“If you get back in bed with me, you better be ready for more,” he said, leaning back against the headboard, his eyes never leaving hers.

“This reminds me of something,” she said.

“What?”

“The day we met. Me walking in. You sitting there like a big lazy cat.”

“We weren’t naked, though,” he said.

“No. Sadly not. I was forced to picture what glory might lay beneath your suit. Which you could wear in the bedroom, you know, even though you’ve disavowed corporate life.”

“Could I?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Think of it as the male equivalent of lingerie.”

“I prefer you naked,” he said. “Lingerie is just an obstacle.”

“Sometimes you need obstacles, Prince. Keeps you humble.”

“Yeah,” he said. “This does remind me of the day we met. Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t love you yet.”

She smiled and moved closer to the bed. “In fairness, I wanted to have you killed and dumped in a swamp.”

“I love you now. In case you were curious.”

“Always nice to hear.” She climbed onto the bed, straddling him before leaning in. “I love you too.”

He decided he could lick her after he proposed. He reached into the bedside table and pulled out the ring box. “I got you something.”

She froze, her eyes wide. “Is that . . . did you . . .”

“Yeah. I know you’ve been engaged before. I know I can’t compete with whatever flowery romantic shit he did or said. But I’ll do better. I’ll be better for the rest of our lives. No other women. Nothing else but you. The Deacons are my brothers, Ajax is my president, but you . . . you’re my whole heart. I’d fucking die without you.”

She blinked, kissing him as tears trailed down her face. “Then I guess I’d better say yes, huh?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even look at the ring.”

“Who cares about the ring?” she asked. “I’ve got your patch already. And I’ve got you.”

“And that’s enough?”

“What can I say?” she said, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I have expensive taste.”