Beyond the Horizon Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #4)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
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His entire frame jolted and his face went blank. I waited for a couple of seconds for him to answer, but he stayed silent, his eyes moving over every inch of my face like he was committing them to memory. The intensity in his gaze told me my words had just changed things, shifted them. A large part of me did a happy dance at this, but a smaller, more powerful part urged me to run, rebuild that shield as quickly as possible.

“Can I cook our breakfast now?” I asked with fake impatience, trying to chase away both parts for now. Just live in the moment.

“I’ll allow it,” he said dryly. “Only if you tell me what I can do to help,” he added, completely surprising me.

My eyes bulged slightly. “You, Asher, manly biker type, want to help cook breakfast?” I clarified.

He pretended to look offended. “Don’t look so surprised, Lily, I’m not a man to sit on my ass and let my woman run after me. Especially after shit last night.” He sounded serious on the end. Though, he stepped forward to squeeze my ass. “And, being on this side of the counter means I’m within grabbing distance if I feel like it.” He winked.

Winked! I was enjoying playful Asher. “You’re like this, and you haven’t even had coffee,” I pointed out in amazement.

Asher gave me a hungry look, yanking my body to his. “Who needs coffee when I’ve got you to get me out of bed?” he said seriously.

Before I could melt in a puddle at his feet, Bex came in to save the day.

“Seriously. If I put a hidden webcam in here I could make thousands off the two of you,” she grumbled as she padded into the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” I called from Asher’s arms, grinning.

Bex turned to me, sipping from her coffee mug. When her eyes caught mine, something in them turned sad, though she smiled. It was quickly masked.

“If I have to endure PDA from two beautiful people, you’ve got to tell me you’re cooking me breakfast, too,” she said as she sat herself on a barstool.

I gently pulled out of Asher’s arms and put the pan back on the stove.

For the first time in weeks, no months, I was actually looking forward to the day ahead of me.

“Holy Hell in a handbasket,” Gwen yelled from across the room when Asher and I walked into the clubhouse.

I felt self-conscious about my attire as I hadn’t been prepared for a club party when leaving the house today. I was wearing high-waisted, form-fitting, light denim jeans, a white boyfriend shirt and strappy maroon heels. My hair was piled atop my head and I wore little makeup.

“I wish you’d let me go home and change before we came here,” I hissed in his ear on our approach.

Gwen was glam as usual. Even from across the room I could spy her strappy electric blue Manolos. The woman had a kid for chrissakes, two of them!

“You’re beautiful,” he replied firmly. “And if I’d let you go home you wouldn’t have come,” he added.

I was silent. He had me there. Gwen’s eyes weren’t focused on my outfit, they were glued to our intertwined hands as we approached the sofa where she was cradling her little boy, Knox. Cade was at her side, a sleeping Belle draped over his chest. He regarded us with his normal blank badass stare. His badassness was not hampered by the tender hand he had placed around his daughter’s small body, nor the other one around his wife. That was not an easy feat.

I swallowed, trying to calm the fear that had choked me when we’d pulled up to the compound. That had turned me mute when Asher had walked us through the outside where people had been milling and shouting greetings to each other. I had seen many of the men before, but not in such large numbers, and definitely not on their biker turf. It was safe to say my shyness was back with a vengeance. It had all but disappeared after a day with Asher. He’d taken me on a ride, somehow knowing after the strangling claustrophobic feeling of last night I needed openness, fresh air, to feel alive. I was already feeling touched by death, my attack had me feeling caressed by it. Asher, his mere presence, his body against mine, it chased away the reaper. I’d fallen even deeper in love with him. That was until his ride finished at a familiar brick building. One that once held excitement and the promise of future. Now, it only held the ghost of the life before.

“What are we doing here?” I asked flatly after the roar of the Harley had silenced, and Asher had gotten off his bike.


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