After pulling my tank top over my head, I glance in the mirror. My hair is a tangled mess, my lips still swollen from his kisses. I attempt to smooth the wild strands with my fingers.
There’s no hiding the glow in my eyes, though.
When I step outside into the backyard, the cookout is still in full swing. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting golden light over bikers drinking, laughing, and grilling. The moment I emerge, several heads turn in my direction.
Ruth gives me a knowing smile from where she’s refilling the lemonade pitcher. Carol’s eyebrows raise as she takes in my appearance.
Do they all know? Did Havoc say something? Or is it just written all over my face?
I scan the crowd for his silver hair, but don’t see him anywhere. My pulse quickens with uncertainty.
I spot Diesel by the grill, beer in hand, supervising Wyatt’s attempts to flip burgers. I make my way over, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes tracking my movement across the yard.
“Hey,” I say, attempting to sound casual. “Have you seen Havoc? He was supposed to bring me some lemonade, but...”
Diesel turns toward me, his dark eyes taking in my disheveled appearance before a knowing smirk plays across his lips.
He takes a long pull from his beer, eyes glinting with amusement. “Think he’s over there with a sweetbutt,” he gestures with his bottle toward the side of the clubhouse. “She cornered him and won’t let him go.”
A pang hits my chest, sharp and unexpected.
He left me in bed to flirt with another woman? After everything we just shared?
I try to keep my face neutral, but something must show because Diesel’s eyebrows rise slightly. I follow his gesture, scanning until I spot them.
Havoc stands with his back nearly against the clubhouse wall. A woman with long red hair leans toward him, one hand resting on his chest. She’s beautiful—curved in all the right places, confidence radiating from her posture. Her fingers play with the collar of Havoc’s cut as she laughs at something.
My stomach twists. I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing. Just twenty minutes ago, he was inside me, calling me his girl. And now he’s out here with... her?
As I watch, I notice his body language. His shoulders are stiff, his stance rigid. He doesn’t look particularly happy about the attention. His eyes keep darting toward the kitchen door, and the smile on his face looks forced.
But surely, he can get away if he wants to? He’s the club president. One word from him and anyone would back off. So why is he still standing there, letting her touch him?
Havoc’s jaw clenches. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to another, like he’s trying to create distance. The woman, Jenna, I think her name is, doesn’t seem to notice or care. She keeps leaning closer, her hand now sliding up to his shoulder.
This doesn’t look like flirting—at least not on his part. It looks like he’s trapped.
Before I can think better of it, I’m moving across the yard toward them. My heart hammers in my chest with each step. I don’t know what I’ll say when I reach them, but I need to see what’s happening.
As I get closer, I can see Havoc’s expression more clearly. He looks annoyed, maybe even angry. His eyes dart around the yard, searching for an escape. Jenna presses herself against him, her body blocking his path whenever he tries to step away.
“Come on, baby,” she purrs, loud enough for me to hear as I approach. “It’s been so long. Don’t you miss me?”
Havoc’s hands come up to grip her shoulders, physically creating space between them. “Jenna, I told you. That’s done. It’s been done.”
She pouts, red lips exaggerated. “You always say that, but then you always come back.”
“Not this time. Look, I need to get back to...” Havoc’s voice trails off mid-sentence as his eyes lock with mine over Jenna’s shoulder.
He hesitates, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. In that frozen moment, I feel suddenly exposed, like every intimate thing we just shared is written across my skin for everyone to see.
The yard seems to turn quiet around us, though I know it’s just my imagination. Jenna senses the shift and starts to turn toward me, her perfectly manicured nails still gripping Havoc’s cut.
Havoc’s expression changes, and I’m sure I observe a flash of decision in his eyes. Like he’s made up his mind about something important.
In one fluid motion, he grasps Jenna’s wrists and firmly removes her hands from his body, pushing her away with enough force to make his point but not enough to be cruel.
“I said we’re done,” he states flatly, not even looking at her anymore. His eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
