Battles of the Broken Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #6)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Crime, Dark, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
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His brows narrowed, as if he was expecting me to ask questions, to force things out of him. “Baby, I’m too fucked up for you. For this fucking world.”

I smiled, sad and melancholy, as my fingers trailed his jaw. “We’re all a little fucked up, Gage. That’s the big secret. Some people hide it better than others. But this world is fucked up, and it’s a side effect of survival to get scars from that.” My eyes touched his arms. My fingers followed suit.

He flinched, his entire body tensing. I knew that it was difficult, bordering on impossible for him to handle me touching them, even with the lightest of fingertips. But I didn’t stop.

“We all have scars, Gage,” I murmured. “You just have no choice but to wear them. I have the luxury of hiding mine.” I stepped forward, leaning up so my lips almost brushed his. “I don’t want to hide mine with you.” My fingers snaked underneath the fabric of his tee, running along the smooth and hard muscles of his stomach.

My other hand left his and did the same thing, only it went downward, to the hard length inside his boxers.

Gage let out a harsh hiss.

“I want you to see all my scars, Gage,” I whispered.

He grunted as I circled him with my hand, squeezing just tight enough to cause him pain, pain I knew he liked. Pain I knew he needed.

He responded by tightening his grip on my hip as the hand at my face fell. He knew I needed pain too. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just figuring that out.

I stepped back, struggling to let him go. He was the port in my storm, but he also was the storm. I didn’t want to let him go, but I did it. Because I was doing all sorts of things I didn’t think I could do tonight.

Gage let out another hiss of air as I left him, though that time it was more a growl in protest, in warning, than a sound of pleasure.

I was sure he was going to surge forward, to snatch me into his arms and fuck me into oblivion, but once he saw what I was doing, he froze.

My cardigan fell to the ground.

“I know the world can’t see my scars, Gage, and it can see yours,” I whispered, clutching the bottom of my shirt. “But I know you can see mine now.” I whipped my top upward, hoping it didn’t get caught in my hair or something equally embarrassing. The air brushing my face as the fabric fell to the floor told me it didn’t. My eyes caught Gage’s hungry stare immediately. He was eating up every single part of my exposed skin.

But he wasn’t just seeing it, he was seeing it. Those places beneath that I was letting him see, that I was hoping he would understand after I’d painted the words of my soul in the air.

I made short work of my booties because there was simply no sexy way of divesting myself of them. But Gage’s eyes weren’t on my boots. No, they had migrated from my eyes to my chest, circling over my plain white cotton bra with an intensity that would’ve been surprising even if I’d been wearing sheer lace.

He found me sexy. Me. Not what I wore to cover my body but what was underneath. What was really underneath. My nipples hardened into stiff peaks, aching to be let out from the fabric encasing them. My eyes on Gage, I reached around to unclasp my bra, the fabric falling to the ground.

Gage’s body pulsated in front of me, his jaw iron with the strength keeping him in place. I hadn’t verbally commanded him to be still, but he knew I needed him to be. And even though it looked to be physically painful, he obeyed my silent command.

It took great effort to slowly peel my pants down my body and step out of them once they pooled at my feet.

Instinct had me wanting to stop there. To move forward, give in to my visceral need to have Gage’s lips against mine, his hands all over me. I literally shook with the need for it. But I fought. Because this wasn’t just about succumbing to my need, succumbing to Gage. I needed to succumb to my demons, to let them in.

So I didn’t move. Instead I hooked my thumbs around the edges of my panties and moved them down, a lot quicker than I did my pants. Then I straightened, naked, in every sense of the word. My skin burned with fear, and with something else too. Something with Gage’s gaze that made me feel safe and wild at the same time.

My nipples throbbed painfully as the hardened nubs were exposed to the air, my core pulsating as Gage’s eyes went to that forbidden spot between my legs. That time, he did growl. So loud it shook my bones, warmed me to the very core.


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