Free Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) by Paula Marinaro

bounded across the kitchen— across time and space and the distance that had divided them for so long. How many times had she imagined him calling out to her in that soft rumble?  How many times had she awakened from the dream of him, only to find herself all alone?
    Glory was suddenly filled with such a violent surge of emotions that she didn’t know which one to feel first.
    “Jules. Hi.” She spoke around the lump in her throat.  “I—um—I thought you were my brother—sorry—I didn’t hear anyone knock.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously and looked past him to the door.
    “I didn’t.” Jules’s eyes drank her in.
    “You didn’t?” Glory winced as she heard her voice crack, and felt her every nerve ending tingle with a charged heat. Because after what seemed like a lifetime of separation and dire circumstance, here they were again.
    Standing less than two feet away from each other.
    Close enough to touch.
    “Didn’t do what?” She stared mesmerized by the play of biceps as they strained against the soft fabric of his tee-shirt— his muscles seemed to remain in motion even though he was standing still. The fullness of his lips, the scruff of his cheek, the angle of his jaw, and the…
    “Knock.” He interrupted her thoughts with hungry eyes. Jules looked at Glory as if he were a dying man and she was a cool oasis in the middle of a scorching desert.  His gaze dropped to her mouth and he licked his lips before he answered. “You didn’t hear me because I didn’t knock.”
    Glory tore her eyes away from the hard ripple of muscles on his chest. “You didn’t?” She almost moaned out the words. “Why Jules? Why didn’t you knock?”
    His eyes deepened to a stormy blue and his mouth curved into a small rueful smile that turned her legs into jelly.
    “Wasn’t sure you’d let me in, darlin’.”
    Glory’s insides turned to liquid heat as that rumble washed her over with memories.
    But not just any kind of memories.
    The kind that made her body moisten in its deepest parts.
    After over a year of imagining him standing there in front of her—there he was.
    Close enough to touch .
    His long blonde hair was loose and windblown.  A thin scar cut across his strong, straight nose and stood out in sharp relief against the bronze of sun-kissed skin. Against the backdrop of lace curtains and floral wall paper, Jules gave the appearance of a creature half- tamed.
    And he was enormous.
    At six foot six, he was easily the largest man in a club of seriously big guys. But since Glory had last seen him, it seemed to her that Jules had grown to mythic proportions. His shoulders were impossibly broad and his heavily inked arms were roped with thick muscle. The T-shirt that stretched over the wall of his chest showed off an abdomen that was firm, flat and rock hard.
    It was as if Jules had spent every minute of the past year lifting small cars, and twin engine planes.
    But as Glory looked closer she realized that the self-assured arrogance that Jules had always owned so readily was now mixed with something else.
    Something new.
    There seemed to be a hesitancy in him. A wary vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before.
    She didn’t know what had caused it.
    Or how long it would last.
    But it was a good look on him.
    A very good look.
    God help her.
    Glory willed the jelly out of her legs and the flutters in her belly to stop. She had not come this far in mending her broken heart to be seduced by the mere presence of the man who had stomped all over it in the first place.
    With tremendous effort Glory raised a hand and waved it at Jules dismissively. Then she forced a calm into her voice that she was not even close to feeling.
    “Don’t be silly. You’re a friend , Jules. You’re always welcome here,” Glory bit down on her lip.
    He lifted his brow at the emphasis Glory had put on the word friend.
    “So—uh—you’re good with it then?” He leaned back, folded his arms