I took a cloth from one of the drawers and ran it under warm water. Gently, I parted her legs and grimaced at how red and swollen her center was. Carefully, I used the warm fabric to soothe and clean up the sticky area.
When the bath was full, I picked her up again and set her down in the steaming tub. I took a step back, and she frowned, catching my hand. “You’re not getting in?”
My eyes devoured her wet, naked body, and I shook my head. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not?” she pouted, making me smile because she somehow looked adorable and sexy at the same time.
“I don’t have enough self-control not to fuck you again, and you’re already gonna be sore as hell.”
“Please?”
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
Badass, motherfucking enforcer, brought down by the word please from a pair of sweet, erotic lips. I prodded her shoulder, urging her to lean forward, then stepped in and slid down behind her.
She settled against my chest, and to my surprise, I felt contentment and peace. I found myself enjoying the feel of her against me because it was soothing, rather than lust crashing over me. The desire was obviously still there, but it was overruled by the pleasure of simply holding my woman.
Steam drifted from the hot bathwater and mingled with the air around us as Linden leaned back against me. Her head rested comfortably in the hollow of my shoulder, her body soft and relaxed in my arms. I stroked slow, idle patterns along her arm, trailing my fingers across the smooth, damp skin as the tension eased from us both.
“What made you join the MC?” Linden asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. She tilted her face upward, her gaze curious.
I considered the question for a moment, deciding how much to share. My relationship with my parents was complicated. My father, the highly decorated rear admiral, was old-school military, where discipline mattered far more than affection, and emotions were seen as liabilities. I knew he loved me in his own way even though he never expressed it openly. Any approval came wrapped in layers of protocol and stoicism.
My mother, on the other hand, was brilliant but detached, approaching parenting more like mentorship. She was proud of my accomplishments but only ever acknowledged them academically. Instead of warmth or praise, she sent journal articles and offered comments on my test flights as if they were peer reviews on a research paper. Her remarks were never negative—I knew they meant she approved—but they still feltdistant and clinical, as though they belonged in the margins of an assignment rather than from mother to son.
All of this emotional baggage wasn’t something I felt ready to unpack, not even with Linden.
“Family,” I finally murmured. “Not the kind you're born with—the kind you find. Spent most of my life with the Navy, living on bases all over the world. First as a kid since my dad was Navy too, a submariner, though, not a pilot. When I wasn't flying, I was riding motorcycles. Learned how to handle a bike from a soldier in the Philippines when my dad was stationed there. Motorcycles gave me a different kind of freedom than flying but just as necessary.”
She tipped her head back and studied me quietly, her eyes thoughtful. “So you grew up military like me.”
I nodded, shifting her slightly in my arms as the water rippled gently around us. “Yeah. Dad was stationed at the Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay, over in St. Marys, when he retired. They’re still down there. Dad consults as a civilian contractor on base, and Mom teaches at UNF in Jacksonville. My older sister, Sylvia, went full academia like our mom. Gifted mathematician. We respect each other, but we aren’t close. When my buddy Fallon left the Navy and joined the Hounds, Kevlar—who we’d become friends with when each of us served with him at one time or another—convinced him to drag me along. After growing up military, I guess I was drawn to the MC because it was a family I chose, not one I was born into.”
Linden nodded slowly, absorbing my words before sharing her own story. “I can relate to that.” Her voice carried a note of sadness. “My dad was Navy too, and my mom worked as a civilian contractor. We moved constantly. I don’t think we stayed in one place longer than two years until he retired in West Virginia.”
“Did you adapt well?” I asked gently, trailing my fingers lightly along her side.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I got good at fitting in quickly. I was always shy, but you learn fast when you’re always the new girl.”
“What brought you to Georgia?” I inquired quietly.
Her voice caught slightly, her body tensing subtly against mine. “After my brother died, things fell apart. My dad took a job overseas, and my mom checked out. I stayed behind.”
The pain in her voice made my chest ache. I tightened my arms around her, offering silent comfort. “I’m sorry, little dove. I knew of Carson. Didn’t know him personally, but we all heard about the crash.”
She glanced up at me, eyes searching. “I just wanted to feel close to him again. When Aegis offered me the transfer, it seemed like a way to stay connected. I took it, even though I didn’t know a soul here.”
“Glad you did,” I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Because now you have me.”
Linden smiled faintly, her body finally relaxing again as she melted back into my embrace. “I’m glad too.”
We fell quiet again, soaking up the quiet intimacy, lost in our own thoughts as the water slowly cooled around us.
11
TOMCAT
Eventually, I shifted, giving Linden’s thigh a little squeeze under the water—careful to keep my hand away from temptation. “Water’s getting cold, baby.”
