Outside the Lines: A Sons of Templar Novella 2.5

by Anne Malcom

  Hansen moved me so I was completely on top of him on the sofa.

  “Love that it put a smile on my girl’s beautiful face. Put the light back in her eyes. Would watch that every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes,” he told me, his eyes intent on me. “Want to talk about it, babe? What that shit was before?”

  I looked down, my hands fiddling with the fabric on his tee. I didn’t know if I did want to talk about what made me effectively have a breakdown in the middle of the street, but I knew I needed to. Otherwise, all that crap would fester, come back up again, and poison me with its negativity. I’d been bottling it up for a month, over a month, ever since Hammer’s words hit home that night at the club.

  Hansen’s hand went to my chin. “Look at me, baby,” he said softly.

  I swallowed, looking into his eyes. “I’m just waiting for it to happen,” I whispered softly.

  His brows furrowed. “What?”

  “Something… something awful. Something that shatters all of this,” I explained my worst fear. “I’ve never been happier in my life when I’m with you. On the bike, off your bike,” I said, and his arms tightened around me. “I’m not used to loving someone this much. To having everything I’ve always dreamed of. He came and took it away when he ended my parents’ lives. Then he came back, and I’m still haunted by him. Still terrified one day you’re going to realize you don’t want to share your life with a reformed club girl and murderer,” I said in a small voice. “I can live with my title as former club girl. I don’t regret it, not for a second. It gave me family, gave me you. The murderer one? Not so much.”

  Hansen flipped us, in one fluid movement, and he was quickly on top of me. “Lot a shit wrong with what you just said, baby,” he started in a hard tone. “Lot that makes my fuckin’ heart break, knowing that it’s been stewing in that beautiful head of yours for a long time,” he stroked my head. “Knew that shit a month ago would haunt you. Your soul is good, down to the core, not an ounce of black in it.” He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not a fuckin’ murderer. You’re a survivor, a fuckin’ miracle, one I thank God or whoever’s controlling the strings up there for,” he said firmly. “Your past with the club? It’s never gonna get to me, babe. Get that through your head. I love you. Every inch of you. I’ll never resent you, or think of you differently ‘cause you were a club girl.” He stroked my face. “‘Cause if you weren’t, I’d never would’ve met you. Something that doesn’t even bear thinking of… a life without you in it. I’ll love you till the moment the reaper claims me, even after that, too. I plan on planting a baby in you, making a family with you, forever,” he declared. “I’ll do whatever it takes, remind you every day of what a fuckin’ magnificent creature you are, to make sure you don’t ever think ugly thoughts about yourself again.”

  I sucked in a breath. Everything he said made my heart pound, made it feel like it might explode. A baby? It should have freaked me out. I was too young. I was recovering from shooting my parents’ killer in front of my old man and his brothers, but yet, the thought calmed me. Made me smile on the inside. No, beam on the inside.

  I had it. Family. Forever.

  “Breathe,” I whispered to my reflection.

  I sucked in a huge breath, trying to use the air as an instrument to quell the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  “You can do this,” I told my reflection again. My reflection, that didn’t even look like me. Well, I guess it did. My pixie cut had grown out a bit but I had kept it short and choppy. Most of the time it was artfully mussed in the ‘I just got out of bed look,’ mostly because I didn’t do it when I got out of bed. Lately, my thoughts were not of taming my hair, I was mostly skipping around the house in a post orgasmic glow—Hansen, a firm believer in morning sex and it was safe to say I was a convert.

  But now, my usually messed hair was curled into soft curls while a daisy crown graced my head, in my true flower child style. My makeup was subtle though I was wearing false eyelashes because a girl always needed a hint of glam. It was the dress that did it. The pure white, long sleeved, vintage lace gown and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The v-neck hinted at cleavage while still being demure, the soft lace hugged my body until it met my waist, tulle replacing the lace and flowing down in a soft waterfall. It was almost completely backless. It was my dream dress. I was getting married to my dream man. The past year had been a blissful fantasy. It wasn’t easy, nor was the relationship with the love of my life always smooth sailing. But it was real. Magical. Not the kind with elves and wizards, but the real life kind, the stuff I didn’t even know existed.

  That’s why my hands were shaking. Why the butterflies were churning in my stomach. You woke up from dreams. They ended and reality came seeping back. I was terrified one person couldn’t be this happy. That happiness wouldn’t always follow me wherever I went, that real life would catch up and shatter it all.

  “Holy fuck,” I heard a masculine voice mutter from the doorway.

  I whirled around and my breath left me. Hansen was standing across the room from me, in black slacks, a white shirt and his cut over the top. A single daisy poked out from the pocket. He was drool worthy.

  “Didn’t think you’d get any more beautiful to me, babe,” he whispered, stalking toward me. “But now I know beauty is not a word that can be used to describe how you look… how you radiate. Word hasn’t even been invented yet,” he murmured, making it over to me. His eyes never left mine, his hands spanned my waist.

  “You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” I protested vainly, my eyes locked in his stare. My heart nearly exploding in the love in his gaze, the reverence. His eyes were softening, opening up for me and me only. The devotion in them was something I’d woken up to every day for a year. The thing I’d dreamed of when I first set foot in the club.

  The hands at my waist tightened. “Think we’ve both had our share of bad luck, Macy,” he said against my mouth. “My luck changed the moment I set foot into the club…” his finger trailed against my jaw, “…hit the fuckin’ jackpot the moment I tasted those lips in the middle of the night a year later.”

  He pushed me back, so I hit the table in the room that was designated as my dressing room in the big lodge in the middle of nowhere, where we were getting married. Before I knew it, he had lifted me, gently pulling my dress up.

  “Wha-what are you doing?” I whispered, my breath catching as his finger pushed passed my panties.

  Ice blue eyes met mine. “Gonna fuck you, baby,” he told me, his eyes flaring.

  I let out a little squeak as his finger pushed into me. “But we’re about to get married,” I protested weakly.

  “Yeah babe and this memory is going down as the best day of my life. Wanna be standing up there, tying myself to you forever, knowing the flush on your face is from me fuckin’ you senseless,” he half growled, pushing his pants down and positioning himself at my entrance.

  No way in hell I could argue with that.

  He paused, one hand on my neck. “This ain’t ever gonna go bad, Mace. This… us… it’s always gonna be solid. I’m always gonna love you with every inch of my soul. Nothing will change that,” he promised fiercely.

  “I love you, too, forever,” I whispered back, with tears in my eyes.

  He plunged into me the same moment his lips met mine, his mouth gentle against mine while he pounded into me.

  “Gonna plant our child inside you, babe,” he grunted, lifting his mouth from mine.

  I was deep in a sex haze, already transfixed by his previous words, I barely registered the statement. All I knew was the orgasm I was chasing was set to shatter my world. Somewhere deep inside, a warm glow settled at the image of having a family with Hansen, growing his child inside me. Right now, I couldn’t focus on that.

  Hansen kept going, clutching my collarbone as he pressed his nose against mine, his eyes holding me captive. I cried out as my orgasm hit
me unexpectedly, fireworks exploding through my body, I clutched onto Hansen as I rode the wave. I felt his body tighten at his own release and he pressed his lips against mine.

  We stayed locked together, connected, while we both caught our bearings, breathing heavily.

  Hansen kissed my head tenderly before he slowly pulled out of me. I stayed where I was, slightly dazed. I was thinking about the unfortunate logistics of getting married straight after having unprotected sex when Hansen returned with a hot washcloth.

  He lovingly, and slowly cleaned himself from me and I watched his head.

  “Did you mean that?” I said finally.

  He looked up, a small smile on his face. “What babe?”

  I paused. “The baby thing,” I said in a small voice.

  Why I was nervous, I had no idea, I was marrying the man for Christ’s sake, babies were an obvious conclusion. But I was still young, and Hansen was still away a lot with club business. Kids weren’t something that I’d even thought of. Okay, I’d thought of them. Any girl in love with a man like Hansen would think about what he would look like cradling a baby. Hot is the answer.

  He paused and tossed the washcloth aside. His hands went to my neck.

  “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, apart from my feelings for you. Want my ring on your finger, you on the back of my bike, and my baby in your belly,” he declared roughly, his eyes sparkling.

  My breath left me. I was speechless. Happiness, pure unadulterated happiness didn’t need words.

  Hansen smiled. “Want to go get married now?” he asked.

  I smiled back and nodded.

  Twenty minutes later, I was Mrs. Hansen Armstrong.

  Nine months later, Xander Armstrong came into the world.

  Pure unadulterated happiness followed me wherever I went.

  Next in the Series

  Out of the Ashes – Sons of Templar #3

  Click here to add to our Goodreads TBR list

  Living a life in darkness causes the soul to char to ash. Battling demons by turning himself into a monster is the only way he can survive...the only way he can keep a grip on sanity. That grip is precarious at best, every day is a silent battle with demons that threaten to yank him into the truest form of darkness, the abyss he’ll never escape. Then it happens. Light shines through the cracks.

  Happiness. Mia Spencer’s life is full of it. She has an amazing new job, friends, family, and the light of her life - her daughter Lexie. Running from the demons of the past, escaping a hell that she vowed Lexie would never know about, she worked through hardship and near poverty to create something she was proud of. Buried deep inside, underneath the swell of love she had for her only daughter, were the fractured pieces of her. Pieces that were smashed and battered when she was young and vulnerable.

  Then she meets Bull, who seems to hate her on sight. He screams danger, from his huge physique to his beautiful ink, to the motorcycle club he belongs to. He is silent, his glares threaten to burn her into flames, yet she finds herself falling for him. Finds this broken man slowly fixing the pieces she thought would stay shattered forever.

  Goodreads Links

  Click on the links below to add to your TBR list.

  Making the Cut: Sons of Templar MC #1

  Firestorm: Sons of Templar MC #2

  Out of the Ashes: Sons of Templar MC3

  Amazon Links

  Making the Cut: Sons of Templar MC #1

  Firestorm: Sons of Templar MC #2

  Out of the Ashes: Sons of Templar MC3 – Coming Soon

  Website

  http://annemalcomauthor.com/

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  Anne Malcom has been an avid reader since before she can remember, her mother responsible for her love of reading. It started with magical journeys into the world of Hogwarts and Middle Earth, then as she grew up her reading tastes grew with her. Her love of reading doesn’t discriminate, she reads across many genres, although classics like Little Women and Gone with the Wind will hold special places in her heart. She also can’t get enough romance, especially when some possessive alpha males throw their weight around.

  One day, in a reading slump, Cade and Gwen’s story came to her and started taking up space in her head until she put their story into words. Now that she has started, it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop anytime soon, with many more characters demanding their story be told as well.

  Raised in small town New Zealand, Anne had a truly special childhood, growing up in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She has backpacked across Europe, ridden camels in the Sahara and eaten her way through Italy, loving every moment. For now, she’s back at home in New Zealand and quite happy. But who knows when the travel bug will bite her again.