Chapter 9 Kya
KYA
Istand in front of my bedroom mirror, second-guessing my outfit choice. Dark jeans hug my curves, a black fitted top shows just enough cleavage to be interesting without being obvious, and my favorite leather jacket.
Feels like it’s appropriate for a motorcycle club party… Maybe?
The drive to the clubhouse takes fifteen minutes, and with every mile, my nerves ratchet higher. What if I don’t fit in? What if they’re just being polite but don’t actually want me there?
The front door opens before I can talk myself out of it, and Andi, Poppy, and Ginger appear together, clearly having been watching for me.
“There she is!” Poppy calls out, practically bouncing down the steps. “I was starting to think you’d chickened out.”
“Almost did,” I admit, getting out of my car.
Ginger wolf-whistles. “Damn girl, you clean up nice. Lee’s gonna swallow his tongue.”
Andi grins, taking in my outfit with an approving nod. “You look fantastic. Come on, let’s get you inside before you lose your nerve completely.”
They flank me as we head toward the door, Ginger linking her arm through mine. “Fair warning - Tank’s already three beers in and challenging people to arm wrestle. Steel’s playing referee and losing badly.”
Sure enough, as we step inside, I spot Tank at a table, his massive frame dwarfing the prospect beside him—Steel, who’s trying to maintain order while Tank flexes dramatically.
“STEEL!” Tank bellows. “Tell this punk I won fair and square!”
Steel looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. “You cheated. You can’t tickle someone during arm wrestling.”
“Show me where that’s in the rules!” Tank grins wickedly.
My eyes automatically scan the crowded room looking for Lee.
Desperate much?
I find him by the bar, talking with Cash and Bones. When our eyes meet across the room, everything else fades away. The conversations, the music, the chaos—it all becomes background noise as he excuses himself and starts making his way toward me.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Andi murmurs beside me, following my gaze.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, you’re practically glowing,” Poppy laughs. “And he looks like he’s about to devour you whole.”
“I’m adding oral to our bet. There’s no way they’re making it to dinner,” Ginger stage-whispers to Tank as he joins us.
“You’re on,” Tank says, wrapping an arm around Ginger. “My boy’s got more self-control than that.”
“Better warm up that tongue. Your boy’s been eye-fucking her since she walked in,” Ginger retorts.
He flicks it out at her then laughs when she elbows him in the gut.
Lee reaches us, and without a word, he slides an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. The possessive gesture sends heat shooting through me.
“Ladies,” he says, though his eyes never leave mine. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?”
“We were attempting to get to know her,” Poppy starts, but there’s a smile in her voice. “But, sure. Go ahead. Steal our new friend.”
“Looks like Ginger’s winning the bet,” Andi says with a grin.
Before I can protest, Lee’s guiding me through the crowd, his hand warm and sure on my back. He leads me to a quiet corner near the back windows, away from the main party.
“Hi,” he says softly, turning to face me fully.
“Hi yourself.”
“You came.”
“You doubted I would?”
“Maybe a little.” His hands settle on my waist, thumbs brushing along my ribs. “You look fucking incredible, by the way.”
The praise makes my chest tight. “Lee…”
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “You take my breath away, you know that?”
My breath catches.
His hands slide up, thumbs stroking just beneath the edge of my top, teasing against skin. “I watched you walk through that door and forgot how to fucking think. You look like trouble, Kya.”
I flush, thighs clenching involuntarily.
“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, voice low and wicked. “But you still showed up. Good girl.”
My heart’s hammering. I can’t breathe. I can barely stand still under the weight of his gaze.
“Say the word,” he says, brushing his lips along my jaw.
“I’ll take you upstairs right now, lay you out, and show you exactly what it means to be worshipped.
Or…” His teeth nip gently at my neck, just once.
“We can stay down here and pretend like I’m not thinking about you with my mouth on your thighs. ”
I sway toward him without meaning to. His hands hold me steady.
“Why are you like this?” I whisper, breathless.
“You make me like this,” he murmurs.
“Ahem.”
We both turn, to find Poppy standing behind us with a smug smile and a raised brow. Her eyes flick between us, assessing, amused.
“Sorry to interrupt the smolder-fest,” she says, not sounding remotely sorry, “but there’s a Fleetwood Mac remix playing. You, my darling, are coming to dance with us.”
“And do shots!” Ginger adds cheerfully.
Lee’s brows lift. “You mind? We’re busy here.”
“Shut up, you animal,” Poppy laughs, grabbing my wrist. “You can go back to eye-fucking her later. Right now, she’s mine.”
Tank claps Lee on the shoulder. “Come on, brother. Let the women have their fun. Steel’s about to demonstrate his interpretation of ‘dancing.’ You don’t want to miss this.”
“I don’t dance,” Steel protests.
“You do tonight,” Ginger says, handing him a shot. “That’s what prospects are for, entertainment!”
Lee chuckles as I glance back, torn between staying in his gravity and letting myself get pulled into something lighter. But Poppy’s infectious grin makes the choice easy.
“I’ll come back,” I promise Lee.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, and there’s something in his eyes that makes the promise feel heavier than the words.
The next hour is a blur of laughter, dancing, and clinking glasses.
Poppy is a terrible influence and an even worse drinking buddy—in that she constantly refills my glass but never takes a shot of her own.
I come to find out around shot three that she’s close to twelve weeks pregnant.
Maybe she isn’t a crappy drinking buddy after all.
Andi joins us halfway through a song and suddenly we’re all swaying together in a loose triangle, hips moving to the music, shouting lyrics like we’re back in college.
Somewhere between the fourth and sixth tequila shot, I lose track of my worries.
The music pulses through the clubhouse, the lights low and warm, bodies moving everywhere. I’m sweaty, breathless, and tipsy enough that I keep laughing at things that aren’t that funny.
“This is the best worst idea ever,” I shout to Poppy over the music.
“I know!” she beams. “Wait till Bones gets drunk. That bitch can do the worm.”
I snort and nearly spill my drink. That’s when I feel it—a hand, large and steady, pressing against the small of my back.
I turn and there he is.
Lee.
“Hey,” he says, voice low enough that I have to lean in to hear it.
“Hey yourself.”
“You good?”
I nod. Maybe too quickly as the world tips a fraction. “I’m… very hydrated.”
His mouth twitches, and he slides his arm around my waist. “You ready to go home?”
I nod again. This time slower. “Yeah.”
He glances at Poppy and Andi. “I’m stealing her.”
“She’s all yours,” Poppy says, still dancing. “Just bring her back next week.”
Lee keeps a careful hand on my back as we weave through the crowd. By the time we make it to my car, the night air is cool on my flushed skin.
“We’re not riding?” I ask, disappointed.
“Babe, you can barely stand.”
“You’ll catch me.”
He smirks. “Always. But I’m not risking you getting gravel rash.”
A low rumble of an engine sounds behind us, and I glance back to see one of the prospects pulling up in a beat-up truck.
“I asked him to follow,” Lee says, nodding toward the prospect. “That way we can drop your car home.”
Lee opens the passenger door of my car and helps me in.
When he slides into the driver’s seat, the car is quiet except for the low hum of the engine and the pounding of my heart.
“Thanks,” I murmur, not entirely sure what I’m thanking him for.
He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek. “Anytime, baby.”
The drive back to my house is slow, taking far longer than the fifteen minutes it should. Lee’s hand rests on my knee, sliding slowly up my thigh.
By the time we pull into my driveway, I’m aching.
Lee parks, gets out, and is already at my side, helping me out as if he’s a gentleman—which feels dangerous coming from a man who’s looked at me like a sinner all night.
We walk up the front steps together, his hand on the small of my back.
At the door, I fumble with the keys, nervous.
“Kya.”
I pause, looking up at him.
He leans in, slow and sure, his hand cupping the side of my face. “You wreck me. You know that?”
My breath catches. “Lee—”
His mouth claims mine.
The kiss is deep and slow, deliberate. A promise. A question. His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt into him, clinging to the front of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless. Dizzy. Wanting.
“Come in,” I whisper.
His forehead presses to mine. “I want to. So fucking badly.”
“Then—”
He pulls back just enough to shake his head, gently brushing his thumb across my lips.
“Not like this,” he says. “You’ve been drinking. You deserve better than something you might regret in the morning.”
I swallow, heart thudding. “I wouldn’t.”
He smiles. “Still not happening. But soon, baby. Real soon.”
He kisses me once more, quick and firm, then takes the keys and opens my door.
“Lock up after me,” he says, voice low.
“Text me when you get home?”
He nods, already backing away. “Always.”
I watch him walk down the steps, my heart in my throat. He waits until I’m inside before driving away.
I am in so much trouble.