I stare at his outstretched hand for a heartbeat too long.
This is just part of the act.
We’re practicing being a couple and getting comfortable with casual touches.
That’s all this is.
I take his hand, and electricity shoots straight up my arm. His fingers lace through mine naturally, as if we’ve done this a thousand times before instead of never, and suddenly I can’t remember why I thought this was a good idea.
My hand fits perfectly in his. His palm is warm and rough with calluses, and the way his thumb automatically brushes against mine feels less like practice and more like something I could get dangerously addicted to.
You’re falling for him, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind.
I know!I respond silently.
I’m completely screwed.
But as Nitro squeezes my hand gently and smiles down at me, really smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes the corners crinkle, I realize something terrifying.
I don’t care that this is fake.
Some things feel real even when they are pretend.
Some moments matter even when they are part of an arrangement.
And Nitro, with his fierce protectiveness and the way he looks at me as if I’m worth something, might just be worth the risk of getting my heart broken all over again.
Even if he doesn’t mean any of it.
Even if I’m the only one falling…
Chapter Thirteen
MARLEY
The Next Day
The rumble of Nitro’s Harley vibrates through my entire body as we pull up to the Las Vegas Defiance clubhouse. I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m about to walk into his world wearing jeans that feel too tight and a vintage AC/DC T-shirt that seemed like a good idea this morning but now feels inadequate.
My hands tighten around his waist, and I press my forehead against the leather of his cut, inhaling the scent of motor oil, leather, and something distinctly him. The bike slows, then stops, and the sudden silence after the engine cuts feels deafening.
“You okay back there, Small Town?” His voice rumbles through his chest, and I feel it everywhere.
I lift my head, my heart hammering against my ribs as if it’s trying to escape. “Define okay.”
He swings his leg over the bike with that effortless grace that shouldn’t be possible for a man his size, then turns to help me off. His hands span my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing, and when my feet hit the ground, he doesn’t immediately let go.
“They’re gonna love you,” he says, his voice dropping to that low register that makes my insides turn to liquid.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know them. And I know you.” His thumb traces a small circle against my hip through my shirt, probably unconsciously, definitely driving me insane. “Trust me, Marley.”
The door to the clubhouse swings open before I can respond, and a woman steps out onto the pavement. She’s stunning inthat effortless way that makes me simultaneously want to be her but also hide behind Nitro’s massive frame at the same time.
Dark hair, leather jacket, and an air of confidence that radiates from her like heat.
This must be Victoria.
