Snare: Road Kill MC (A Novel) by Marata Eros

revelation about never fucking anyone but me. Taking all the wind out of my anger sails.
    Then I fucked her like I've been dreaming of doing for five years.
    I've banged a hundred women, but none of them made me cum like I thought I was going to die if I didn't—like there would never be another drop left.
    Sara did. Sara does.
    She's curled up in a tiny ball against me. Exactly like she used to fall asleep in that fucking closet. As though even in sleep, she had to protect herself.
    I open her hand, and she stirs, whimpering in her sleep. I lay a kiss in her open palm, and she snuggles against me deeper.
    I loved washing her in the shower. I loved the sounds she made when I did it even more.
    First thing I'm going to do is move her out of here and into my place. No more working The Crawl. No more malesʼ eyes on my girl.
    I move over the top of her, throwing a leg over hers and twisting her face to mine. Her sleeping eyes slit open, and I kiss her all over her face, trailing the lightest skin-to-skin contact I can. I don't kiss sweet butts. Somehow kissing means something other than fucking.
    “Oh, now you kiss me,” she says in a soft voice, thick with sleep.
    I smirk. “I kissed you.”
    Her face fills with light pink color. “Yeah,” she agrees. Because she can't deny it.
    I made love to her pussy with my mouth. My tongue.
    Hugging her against me, I tell her what's what. “You're coming with me, Sara.” I push the hair from her face and hold her small face between my hands.
    “I can't let you take care of me, Snare—it won't work. You need to have a life.”
    I press my finger against her lips. “Knock that shit off. I've been walking around like a fucking scooped-out corpse since you left me.” My eyes search her face, willing her to listen—to understand. “I'm part of the MC culture now. A one percenter. We don't follow citizen rules, like the other ninety-nine percent of the population. We take what we want.” I let that sink in for a second, giving her time to make sense of my words. “I'm taking you, Sara. We're meant to be together.”
    I open her legs, looking deep into her eyes. They hold sadness, relief—eagerness.
    I dip my finger inside her, and she moans. “Can you deny this?”
    Sara shakes her head, but her tears fall. I reluctantly remove my finger and rub the tears from her face. “What is it? Why can't you see how fucking much I love you?”
    “I do see.” She nods, soft surprise overwhelming her expression. “But if you really love someone, you don't force them to take care of you from some false sense of obligation.”
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” I flop down on the bed, covering my eyes with a forearm. “Sara,” I ask to the ceiling, “do you love me?”
    A heartbeat of time wavers between my question and her answer.
    “Yes.”
    I turn to face her, propping myself up on an elbow. “Then what the fuck is this?”
    She covers her face with her hands. “I don't want to be someone you have to protect.”
    I take her hands from her face. “I can't not protect you, Sara. I was meant to be your protector from the moment you moved in. I loved you that day—that hour. I was yours the moment I saw you. It's not a choice. That's what you're not fucking comprehending.”
    Sobs break out from between her lips, and I pull her against me. “Why does it sound like your heart's breaking?”
    “Because I gave up,” she whispers between frantic tears.
    I tilt her face with my hands. “You what? What did you give up on, baby?” My eyes move over her face, kissing the tears.
    “Life,” she whispers.
    Her explanation is so close to the way I was feeling before tonight, I can't respond. I hold Sara while she cries.
    She holds me like I'm the last solid thing in the world.
    And for me, she is.

12
    Sara
     
    I don't ever want the night to end.
    Snare arriving is a dream. And a nightmare.
    The very thing I tried to avoid has happened. I didn't save my stepbrother in the only way I