Chapter Twenty-Four
MONROE
“Alright, I think it’s time to get you home.”
I nod in agreement, knowing it’s getting late. I reach for his hand as we head toward his bike, pulling him close and resting my head against his arm. My head is telling me how fast everything is moving between us, but my heart is singing a different tune.
I loved watching him with those women today.
They’re a group of feisty old biddies, and they surely gave him a run for his money.
But Crew took everything in stride, giving it right back to them.
And seeing him flirt? God, I know it made their year.
I wish he could see himself how I do, how others clearly do.
Crew thinks he’s all darkness and doom and gloom, but I’m convinced he just needed the right person to come into his life and accept him and open his eyes to how sweet and caring he truly is.
The bike rumbles under us, a deep, hungry vibration that travels from the steel between my thighs and into the marrow of my bones.
My core is overly sensitive from last night, and I can’t help the whine that breaks through my lips.
Crew walks the bike slowly out of his spot before turning the opposite way from the direction toward my house.
“Where are you taking me?” I yell over the purr of the engine.
“I told you, pixie, I’m not giving you up.
I’m taking you home. It’s time you see the clubhouse.
” He says the words like the weight of them isn’t huge, as if he’s taking me out for coffee instead of directly into the center of his world.
My eyes go wide, my heart pounding in my chest as Crew takes off down the road.
I rest my cheek against the leather at his back and brace myself for what’s coming next. My fingers splay flat against his bare chest, holding on tight. I could pretend it’s for safety and balance, but I’d be lying. I hold him tight because I want to be close to him.
The wind whips around us, tugging at our hair, pushing at his leather vest. I press my cheek further into the center of his back, the scent of fire, fresh rain, and leather filling my nose even through the rush of air around me. It’s intoxicating. Crew is intoxicating.
We ride through the long stretch of mountain highway that leads to the deserted side of Amberwood. Everyone knows what’s over here, and I’ve never had an interest to go looking. Until now.
The ride is silent, the wild wind and the purr of the engine drowning everything else out, everything except my thoughts. I wait for some sensible voice in my head to show up, to tell me not to get more involved with a man like Crew, but she never comes. I’ve already made up my mind.
Crew may be dangerous, he may do terrible things, but he’s capable of kindness, even tenderness.
I’ve seen it with me. The way he handled me last night, he’s so sweet and loving.
He’s just so tightly controlled, and it’s offered in such small doses that I bet he doesn’t even realize there’s goodness inside him.
A fact I want to rectify. He’s so deserving of love and to have all the good and bright things come to him.
I’m convinced he’s been wading through the darkness with his demons too long that he’s become blind to it.
The road stretches long and empty ahead of us, the only thing visible the few feet in front of us where his lights guide the way. He takes the roads like he’s done it a million times before, which I’m sure he has, turning into every tight curve with the confidence of someone who has no fear.
Crew’s hand slides back, curling around my calf and giving it a squeeze. It’s reassuring, possessive, and makes my heart fall harder. I run the flat of my hand up and down his chest, over his abdomen and pecs, loving how his skin feels.
Tall gates are lit up in the distance by floodlights, and a guard station at the entrance is manned by several armed guards.
I tighten my arms around Crew’s waist, a natural instinct for approaching the Hell’s Heathens compound.
I’ve lived in Amberwood all my life, and I’ve grown up hearing stories about this place.
Some good, some bad. But never in a million years would I have imagined myself riding into it on the back of one of their high-ranking members’ bikes.
The guards open the gate, several of them nodding to Crew, either in respect or acknowledgment, but it makes butterflies take flight in my stomach, nonetheless. He means something here and to these people.
We turn onto a long driveway, and Crew slows the bike down further, the crunch of the gravel under his tires loud after miles of smooth pavement. The massive dark building looms at the end of the road as it comes into view, intimidating and untouchable.
He squeezes my calf again, and I squeeze him back, silently letting him know that I’m good.
I’m more than good, actually. I feel alive in a way that I haven’t before, in a way that’s almost frightening.
I’ve spent so long trying to live that I haven’t actually been living.
And being with Crew has reminded me of that.
He brings the bike to a stop outside the clubhouse, and I take a deep breath. The large barn-style building has a massive wraparound deck where a couple of bikers linger. They’re all wearing vests, boots, and their attention is on us.
My heartbeat stutters in my chest, and I grip Crew’s hand tightly as he helps me climb off the bike, adjusting my dress.
Crew’s fingers pinch my chin, directing my attention back to him.
His eyes are a dark onyx that seem to glimmer in the floodlights, and I can’t help but smile up at him, despite the heavy, persistent feeling of eyes on us.
He cups my cheeks in his large palms, thumbs brushing slow, absentminded swipes back and forth against my skin.
He just stands there for a moment, so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
A charged awareness hums between us, loud and incessant, and impossible to ignore.
I could get completely lost in this man, and there’s not a single fiber of my being that is scared to face that prospect.
His face morphs slowly, his eyebrows pinching, his lips pursing like he has something to say, but doesn’t know how to express it. I reach my hands up and circle his wrists, silently urging him to open up.
“My home is your home, Monroe, and I want you to meet everyone, to see it,” he says, dropping his voice even lower, nerves lacing his voice. “But if you get uncomfortable, we’ll leave. No questions.”
A choice.
He’s giving me an out, and that’s my undoing. There’s no pressure, or force, or coercion. Just a simple choice. But the nerves written all over his normally confident, controlled face are worse than anything, my feelings be damned.
“I’m not going anywhere. Introduce me to your people. I want to see your home.” Something shifts in his expression and lights my heart on fire, the last shreds of it breaking away for him. He looks relieved, and something close to pride fills his features.
His fingers lace with mine, strong and certain, so at odds with the first time I reached for him.
He steadies me as we walk toward the stairs that lead to the deck.
My pulse kicks up again, but it’s not fear, it’s anticipation.
I want to learn more about him and where he’s from, and if showing me things is how he communicates best, then I’m along for the ride.
The scent of gasoline and smoke hit my nose as we reach the top of the steps, three bikers’ eyes looking me over.
Not so much in an unwelcoming way, but more morbid curiosity.
The man leaning against the frame of the door speaks first. He’s beautiful.
There’s no other way to describe him. Flawless skin, straight, perfectly white teeth, meticulously sculpted hair.
He’s dazzling, and I bet he has ladies falling and begging at his feet.
“Couldn’t be bothered to put your tracker back on?”
“Don’t need you all tracking me. I’m the one who handles security, I know where I am, and that’s all that matters,” Crew replies, and the man rolls his pretty eyes. “This is Monroe.”
The man steps forward, holding out his hand to shake mine, only for Crew to slap it away. “No touching.”
My mouth falls open, slightly shocked but also amused.
“These fuckers call me Wrath, but my name’s Axel. I’m the club secretary. It’s good to finally meet you, but blink twice if you’re here against your will.”
Crew reaches out and slaps Axel in the back of the head, which makes him laugh. There’s an ease between them that makes my heart swell.
“I promise, I have all my free will. I want to be where Crew is.”
“Damn, brother, you actually got her to fall for you.”
“Yep,” Crew says proudly. “And I didn’t have to use a shit board to do it.”
“A what?” I laugh.
“I swear he’s calling it that just to fuck with us; he’s a dink. He means a charcuterie board. It’s a long story for another day. You can ask our vice prez or his old lady, Bristol, about it when you meet them. They’ve already headed back to their house for the night.”
The double front doors open, and a small group of people pours out. Four men and a woman slide to a stop as they see us.
“New plaything, Mal? She’s a pretty one.
Might need to see if she’s down for a ride on my cock when you’re done with her.
” Malice moves quickly, pushing me behind him.
Another hand grips my arm, not tightly, but enough to turn me.
I come face-to-face with a woman with sleek black hair, bangs that I wish I could pull off, and gorgeous almond eyes.
“You may want to look away, sweetie,” she says, her voice a playful warning.
Of course, in my confusion, I don’t listen and look back at Crew just as he drives a knife into the man’s hand, nailing him to the wood railing.
The man howls as Crew grabs his jaw with force.
I slap my hand over my mouth in shock, my eyes wide and wild.