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“Ah, I figured it was either Viper or Onyx. They’re the only two officers without an old lady.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Old lady? Like, a mother or grandmother?”

“No, no, sorry, I should have clarified. It’s like club slang for their women. Their partners. It’s more than a girlfriend or even a wife. It’s like… you’re completely theirs and they belong to you as well.” Corinne has a dreamy look on her face, tinged with sadness.

“Who’s old lady are you?” I ask with a smile.

“Me? Oh, no one’s. I’m not… it’s not like that with me. I’m just here because my sister took pity on me and let me tag along. I work at King’s Logistics and stay here in one of the apartments.” Another wistful look passes through her eyes, threaded with a profound loneliness I’m all too familiar with.

We chat a bit more as Corinne fixes herself toast and a cup of coffee. Right as she stands up to leave, Onyx reappears in the doorway. I can't help the small, fond smile that spreads across my face. Corinne catches it, grinning from ear to ear and shooting Onyx a heavily knowing look. He rolls his eyes, which only makes her grin widen.

Corinne slips past him out the door, and Onyx immediately steps inside, crossing his massive, inked arms over his chest. He leans against the doorframe, looking me up and down like he’d been starving for the sight of me the entire time he was gone.

“Come on,” he rumbles, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I have something I want to show you.”

CHAPTER THREE

ONYX

Ilead Eden out of the clubhouse and across the gravel lot toward my black and chrome chopper. I stop beside it, turning my head to look down at her, a faint, testing curve touching my mouth.

"Ever been on a bike, Raindrop?"

She shakes her head slowly, her small fingers nervously clutching the hem of her oversized shirt.

A slow, possessive grin tugs at my lips. "Think I could be your first?"

Her cheeks instantly catch fire, heating up so fast it practically burns. Before I can even process the words, a flash of realization hits me. I catch how raw and heavy that sounds hanging in the air between us. But when I look closer, I see she isn't creeped out or defensive; she’s breathlessly shy and a little bit curious.

My expression softens, turning impossibly protective. I step closer, closing the distance until I can feel the cool, fragile air radiating off her curvy frame, and lean down, my warm breath brushing against her ear.

"Let’s start with a ride on my bike," I murmur, my voice wrapping around her. "I’ll be right here when you’re ready for more."

Her breath hitches sharply. I linger for a second, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to her temple, closing my eyes as I breathe her in, anchoring her scent straight to my soul.

I instruct her to swing her leg over the heavy machine and hold on tight to my waist. As soon as the bike shifts into gear and I rev the throttle, she jumps in surprise, instinctively squeezing her arms tighter around my torso and pressing herself flat against my back. Sensing her sudden panic, I instantly slow down, lifting one large hand to rest right over hers where they’re locked across my chest, giving a gentle, rhythmic squeeze to let her know she’s safe.

Keeping the pace slow and steady at first, I let her get used to the vibration and the rush of the wind. Then, once we hit the wide expanse of the coastal highway, I open it up, the machine surging forward with raw power. With every passing mile, I can feel her relax against me, the tension slowly bleeding out of her bones.

When we circle back into town and pull up onto my property, I cut the engine. She slides off the bike, looking around the quiet, wooded clearing. It’s a modest, single-bedroom cabin that’s always been more than enough for me. But as I watch her step away from the bike, a sudden, profound thought crashes through my mind: looking at her now, I know I'm going to need a much bigger house for all the kids we'll have one day. It shocks me how naturally these audacious thoughts take root, reshaping my world without her even trying.

I give her a tour of my place, which takes all of sixty seconds. Standing in the center of the living room, I rub the back of my neck, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my sparse quarters. "I know it’s not much, but..."

She cuts me off by turning around, flashing a shy yet radiant smile. "Thank you for bringing me here, into your space."

I huff out a ragged breath, completely disarmed, having no idea how to handle her sweetness. “I, uh, I can buy pillows, blankets, scented candles… those white decorative lights people seem to like these days, a fancy coffee maker… and anything else you could possibly want.”

She blinks up at me, confused at first, then gives a soft, firm shake of her head. "I don’t need anything," she says sincerely. "I don’t want to waste your money or time. In fact, I should probably go back to the clubhouse and grab my suitcase so I can find a place to stay tonight."

The thought of her walking out that door nearly chokes me.

I close the distance, tucking a few stray strands of dark hair behind her ear before cupping her cheek in my palm. "Look at me, Raindrop. First of all, you’re never a waste of money or time. You deserve good things. You deserve happiness and comfort."

She tries shaking her head, wanting to shrink away, but I gently grip her chin, stopping the movement.

"One day, you’ll believe me. One day, you won’t doubt your worth." When I see the fresh shimmer of tears pooling in her eyes, my chest tightens. "And second of all, you’re staying here. With me."

"Oh, I… I couldn’t. I mean, I don’t even have a plan, you know? I don’t have money, or a car, or any idea of where I’m going next. I’m… I’m…"