“Tell me that you have a better shower than the ones at the clubhouse. Something better than a stall.” Groaning against my throat, she clings like she needs the heat.
“You can walk right in. Has plenty of space.” Closing my eyes, I realize just how much room it has. Enough for both of us. My cock stirs instantly. “You’ll have to borrow something of mine if you want to shower.”
Releasing me from her death grip, a smile on her lips is what welcomes me as I pull back. “Better for you to start getting used to it now. I’m greedy, Hammer. I’ll steal it all if you let me.”
Fueled by that smile, by the promise in her words, I slide away her, earning a soft sigh. In one fluid motion, I scoop her up into my arms, her surprised laugh a melody to my ears.
She feelsrighthere, her head tucked against my shoulder, her body trusting and pliant in my grasp.
I carry her to the bathroom, to the spacious shower she demanded. This is our sanctuary now. For three days, this apartment is our entire world.
We havethreedays.
The thought is a timer ticking on by in the back of my mind. Three days to enjoy ourselves, to learn the map of each other’s bodies without the weight of the outside world. After that, I get sucked back into the chaos. Back to the clubhouse, where Judge is set to face down the man who wanted to package Destiny up and sell her for profit.
The darkness of that reality is a cold splash, but it only hardens my resolve. I plan on taking advantage of every second we have, memorizing the feel of her, the sound of her. Just in case something happens.
For this woman in my arms, I’ll fight, and I’ll survive. All my brothers have a reason to fight, a reason to win. And when we do win… things can go back to normal.
I can start something new, something with her.
Who knows, maybe in the celebration, I can find a ring that’ll go nicely with whatever clothes of mine she decides to steal.
10
Destiny
Epilogue
The scent of charred garlic is the first sign of the apocalypse.
I stare in despair at the blackened bits stuck to the bottom of the pan, the sauce I’d been so carefully reducing now looking more like a tar pit. A curl of smoke rises, a final, mocking salute to my culinary ambitions.
From the living room, the low rumble of the television taunts me, the cause of my attention being absorbed.
The rumble of motorcycles grows louder by the second, snapping me out of my current state.
Oh, no.
My heart plummets. They’re here. Now. And I’m serving them… this. A hysterical thought pops up in my mind. Is it too late to just order a pizza and hide the evidence?
Before I can even reach for my phone, the front door opens, and the familiar, heavy cadence of Hammer’s boots fillsthe hallway. His voice, a low gravel that always settles me, is followed by others. I clutch the spatula like a lifeline, my knuckles white.
He appears in the kitchen doorway, his large frame blocking the light for a moment. His eyes find me instantly, flicking from my panicked face to the smoking pan and back. A faint, knowing smirk touches his lips.
Behind him, Warden fills the space, his presence quieter but just as substantial. And beside him, Leah, his “friend.” The one who patches them up, who knows their secrets. The one I’m still trying to get used to outside of the clubhouse.
My face burns hot at the idea of feeding them this disaster. I don’t want word to go around that Hammer’s fiancée can’t cook for squat.
Hammer doesn’t hesitate when he spots my panic. He crosses the kitchen in three strides. “Why don’t you two find something to watch?” he says over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving me. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
The moment they’re gone, the dam breaks. “This was supposed to be great,” I whisper, the words tight with frustration. “I wanted it to be great.”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he moves behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his arms circling my waist. He lets out a long, low groan, burying his face in the curve of my neck. It’s the sound of a man who’s been separated for an eternity, not just a single afternoon running club errands. The tension in my shoulders instantly begins to fall apart.
“Missed you,” he murmurs, his lips finding the sensitive skin beneath my ear.
I melt against him, the spatula clattering onto the counter. All the anxiety, the need for everything to be perfect, seems to bleed out of me at his touch. This is his magic. His ability to ground me when my thoughts are spinning into chaos.
