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He had a way of looking at me that transcended anything I’d even read about in books, and it made no sense.
there was no Storm without his girls.
A storm that was shaped like one man. My ex-husband. The man I craved. The man I missed. The man who’d ruined me and who’d broken me… The man who, despite it all, I still loved.
She didn’t need to wait on me, and she didn’t. Simply stormed down the hallway like the queen she was.
"If we don’t, it’s because your mom’s a wise woman. I hope that, if one day, a guy treats you like I treated her, that you leave his sorry ass."
but if I was Storm’s angel, then he was my devil.
Her snicker shouldn’t have lit me up from the inside out, but it did. It really fucking did, and the bitch of it was, I knew it’d only ever be her who did that to me. Who made me feel alive. Who made this goddamn world worth living in.
"She deserved it," was the stubborn retort. "Biker princesses don’t ever let anyone tear them down."
Her brow furrowed and I sensed her awkwardness, her hesitancy. It made me want to make things better. To take away all her worries. But that was the old Storm talking. Not the new one. She didn’t need me to come along and make everything better. She needed me to let her take her own stand. To have her own voice. To do her own shit.
The most joyful of smiles creased his jaw, making those eyes of his gleam with it and prompting me to realize I’d been waiting to see this ever since the first day I’d met him.
Once you went Posse, I realized, you never came back.
I will cherish you until the day I die; know this, know that I adore you, know that I will kill and walk through hell’s fire itself for you, and know that there is no Storm without his Keira. I love you, baby girl. Asher

