Page 23

“You forgot you have a busted vehicle. Ridge is going to get it towed back to the clubhouse and fixed.”

Ridge side eyes me. “I am?”

I slap his shoulder. “You are.”

He rolls his eyes, then holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Della grips onto the back of both mine and Ridge’s seats. “I’ve got Triple A. They can⁠—”

“Those men could still be back there,” I add. Cutting her off. I need a reason for her to stay. Because, deep in my gut, I know as soon as she leaves, I’ll never hear from her again, and I just want a little bit more time to be in her orbit. “And why pay all that money and deductible or whatever?”

Della looks to Ridge. “Will it take long?”

“Depends on if we can get the replacement glass quick,” he says. “I know a guy.”

She sighs as she places her keys into Ridge’s outstretched palm. “You’ll be careful with her?”

“Always.”

When she catches my gaze in the rearview mirror, I see trust there, and it does strange things to my cock.

Who knew that being a trusted protector could be a kink? And I wonder what she’d look like on her knees, looking up at me, just like she is right now.

8

DELLA

Iwent to a few keggers in college. Wild nights of drinking were never really my thing. I much preferred a quiet night with a book and a decent eight hours of sleep that didn’t end with a raging hangover.

But they were tame compared to what I just walked into.

First, the music is so loud, I wish I had the neat little ear defenders I pop in when I’m working in a public place and want to tone down the noise. Although, I’m certain their effectiveness in a coffee shop wouldn’t even make a dent in this volume.

Second, there are bodies everywhere. And I’m not talking bodies like mine, dressed like I am in straight-leg jeans, sneakers, and what I thought of as a cute top. No, this is like some topsy-turvy dark lingerie catwalk show. The women are so hot that I can barely take my eyes off them. Until I see the men.

Biceps.

Ink.

Leather.

Varying lengths of scruff to beards.

All wrapped in an utterly horrifying toxic masculinity that has girls on their knees sucking off bikers in public.

But my moral outrage is drowned out by how arousing it all is.

While I rarely get down on my knees in private and have never done anything beyond holding hands and the occasional chaste kiss in public, I find myself watching the way the biker cups the back of the woman’s neck with a kind of possessive ownership I hadn’t realized I would die for.

I can’t take my eyes off the way he holds her, not quite forcing her, as she looks up at him. They trust each other. And he winks at her as she sucks.

And apart from occasional glances, no one else is bothered by this. Or maybe they are and are just better at hiding it than I am.

“Try it…you might like it,” a voice says behind me. And I turn to find Sunny with a wry smile on his face.

I shake my head fervently. “What…gosh…no. I’m not…I mean…I can’t.”

Sunny chuckles. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”