Trivia break. She squeezes my thigh under the table, murmurs, “Bathroom, be right back,” and slips away toward the hallway.
I count to five. Then I’m moving. I catch her just outside the women’s room in the empty corridor, low light buzzing overhead. I don’t hesitate. I crowd her back against the wall, one forearm braced above her head, the other sliding to her hip, fingers digging into the soft give there to pin her in place.
Her eyes go wide, then spark with that teasing heat I’m already addicted to. “Lucky...”
“You let them touch you like that,” I growl, voice low enough it’s just for her. “Eli’s hands on your shoulders. Noah’s hand on your back. Laughing like it’s nothing.”
She blinks. Then, fuck me, she laughs. Soft, breathy, like I’m being ridiculous.
I press closer, chest to hers, feeling her nipples harden through her shirt against me. “You think this is funny, firecracker?”
“A little,” she admits, still smiling. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I drop my forehead to hers, exhale rough. “When another man’s got his hands on my old lady, yeah, baby, I’ve got something to worry about.”
The words land heavy, my old lady. It’s a club claim. Old-school. The kind you don’t throw around unless you mean forever. Her breath catches. Her smile shifts and softens into something warmer, something that makes my chest ache in a way I’m not used to.
She rises on her tiptoes, hands fisting my cut, and pulls me down into a kiss that’s all fire. Deep. Hungry. Tongue sliding against mine like she’s trying to crawl inside my skin. I groan into her mouth, hands gripping her hips harder, pressing her back until the wall’s the only thing holding her up. I break the kiss just enough to whisper against her lips. “You can’t kiss me to shut me up, firecracker.”
“They’re gay,” she says, eyes dancing. “Like, gay-gay. Together for the last five years gay. Eli and Noah? They’re married. To each other. They touch me because I’m the annoying little sister they adopted years ago.”
I freeze. Let it sink in. Then let my head fall forward until my forehead thumps gently against the wall beside her ear. “Fuck me.”
She giggles, actually giggles, and loops her arms around my neck, pressing her soft body against mine. “Jealous looks really good on you, though. Kinda hot.”
I pull back enough to meet her eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe a little,” she teases, biting her lip. Then her expression softens. “But seriously… you don’t have to worry. Not about them. Not about anyone.”
I study her, those big eyes, that mouth still swollen from my kiss. The possessive edge doesn’t fade, it just settles deeper inside me. “Yeah?” I murmur, thumb brushing her bottom lip. “Then say it again.”
“Say what?”
I lean in, voice gravel and low. “Say you’re mine.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t look away. “I’m yours, Lucky. All yours.”
Something in my chest cracks open. I kiss her again, slower this time, claiming every inch of her mouth like I’ve got all night. When I pull back we’re both breathing hard.
“Good girl,” I rasp. “Now get your ass back in there before I drag you home and fuck you on every surface until you can’t walk straight.”
She laughs, ducks under my arm, but pauses to brush a quick kiss along my jaw. “Trivia’s waiting,” she murmurs over hershoulder, hips swaying as she heads back. “But don’t think I’m letting that ‘old lady’ thing slide. We’re talking about it later.”
I watch her go, that possessive heat still burning low in my gut.
Talk all she wants. She’s already mine. And I’m not letting her, or anyone, forget it.
We step out of the hallway together, my arm slung heavy around her shoulders, fingers curled possessively over the soft curve of her upper arm. She fits against my side like she was carved for it, her arm wrapped snug around my waist, thumb hooked in my belt loop, hips brushing mine with every step. No hesitation. No playing it cool. Just us, walking like we’ve been doing this forever. I guide her straight toward the corner where my team’s claimed a couple of high-tops. Riot’s there, leaning back in his chair with that shit-eating grin he’s been wearing since the day I told him about her. The rest of the brothers, Ghost, Diesel, a couple prospects, and Tank are mid-argument over some bullshit answer from the last round. They look up as we approach.
I don’t stop walking until we’re right at the edge of their circle. “Boys,” I say, voice carrying just enough edge to cut through the chatter. I tighten my hold on Savannah, pulling her a fraction closer so there’s no mistaking it. “This is Savannah. My old lady.”
The table goes dead fucking quiet.
Ghost’s beer freezes halfway to his mouth. Diesel’s eyebrows shoot up so high they disappear under his beanie. Tank blinks like I just told him the sky’s green. One of the prospects actually chokes on his drink, coughing into his fist. They all stare, firstat me, then at her, then back at me, like they’re waiting for the punchline.
Except Riot. Riot just leans forward, elbows on the table, and gives me the slowest, most satisfied nod I’ve ever seen. “’Bout damn time you claimed her proper, brother.” He tips his bottle toward Savannah. “Welcome to the chaos, darlin’.”
Savannah doesn’t flinch under the scrutiny. She just smiles, all soft and confident, that firecracker spark in her eyes and lifts her free hand in a little wave. “Hey, everyone. Nice to officially meet you.”
