Me: What’re you up to?
Bri: Watching TV. Alone. Ansley’s out on a date.
Me: I’m coming over.
Bri: …Wait what?
I don’t give her time to overthink. I’m already on my bike, already rolling through dark streets that feel too quiet for how loud my chest is pounding. I park outside her apartment and knock once. The hallway light flickers above me, buzzing like it’s as anxious as I am.
Then she opens the door. She’s in skin-tight black leggings and an oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder like the damn thing’s clinging to her for dear life. Her hair’s down and messy from lounging, lips soft like she’d been chewing them. No makeup. Just her. All natural curves and warmth and trouble. Fuck me she’s beautiful.
Her eyes widen a little when she sees me. “Um… hey?”
I’m standing here like a caveman trying to remember language. “Hey.” It comes out rough.
She tilts her head, sweater slipping a bit more, revealing smooth skin that should not be making my entire brain short-circuit. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping inside without waiting for an invite because if I hesitate I might start thinking and that’s dangerous. “Needed to see you.”
Her brows pick up the tiniest bit. “Oh.”
Her voice does something to me. Something I should maybe fear.
She steps back to let me in and the scent of her place hits me like sugar and warmth and whatever spell she’s been slowly casting on me for months. The TV plays low in the background. Some true-crime thing. Figures.
She shuts the door and I watch the lock click into place. My pulse kicks.
She steps back to let me in and the scent of her place hits me like sugar and warmth and whatever spell she’s been slowly casting on me for months. The TV plays low in the background. Some true-crime thing. Figures.
She shuts the door and I watch the lock click into place. My pulse kicks.
Not because she’s locking us in.
But because she’s locking the world out.
She turns toward me with that soft, curious expression. Like she knows something is different but she’s not sure what version of me she’s about to get. The casual tease. The cocky asshole. Or the man who would burn down the entire county to keep her safe.
I step closer. Slow. Controlled. Even though every part of me wants to push her up against the wall and take what’s already mine.
“You good?” she asks, voice light but her eyes searching.
“I’m great,” I say. My voice is deeper than I intend. Rough like gravel. “Church got interesting.”
Her brows lift. “Oh? Did you finally get into a fight with Piston over who used the last of the shop coffee?”
I give her a look that stops her teasing in its tracks.
“No,” I say, stepping right into her space. Our chests almost touch. “I told them about us.”
Her breath hitches. She grabs a fistful of her sweater like she needs something to hold onto. “About… us?”
“I told them you’re my old lady.” My fingers trail up her arm, slow, claiming every inch. “I told them you belong with me.”
Color rises in her cheeks, eyes shining like she’s trying hard not to cry. “Blade…”
I cup her jaw gently, thumb brushing the curve of her cheekbone. Soft. Reverent. Because she deserves that.
“And I’m gonna put my patch on you soon,” I murmur, voice right against her lips. “Every man in this town’s gonna know exactly who you are.”
