Chapter Ten #2
“That’s the thing about the club, everyone underestimates us… even the police.”
She softens her shoulders. “So, you’re the good guys then?”
I tilt my head with a playful grin. “Mostly. But enough about me… what’s happening with you? You have a lot going on.”
Marley groans. “Well, as you know, I’ve been staying with Sage, and it’s cramped. Her place is tiny, I need to find somewhere to live, and apartment hunting in Vegas on my salary is impossible.”
Suddenly, an idea hits me. “I have an apartment,” I say. “Downtown. I barely use it, mainly just for business work. You could stay there.”
She jerks her head back in shock. “What?”
“I’m at the clubhouse pretty much every night. The apartment’s empty. You could have it to yourself.”
“Nitro, that’s too much. I can’t just take your apartment.”
“You’re not taking it. I’m offering. Temporarily. Until you find your own place. You need somewhere to stay, and I have somewhere. Problem solved.”
She looks at me as though she’s trying to figure out if this is real. “I could pay rent or—”
“No rent. Just use the place.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say yes, Small Town.”
She purses her lips, but then finally, she nods. “Okay. Yes. Thank you. But only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
More than sure.
The thought of her somewhere, I know she’s safe, makes something protective curl in my chest.
“When can I see it?”
“How about now?”
“Did you bring your bike?” The hopeful tone in her voice makes me inwardly chuckle.
I gesture over my shoulder to the Harley glistening in the springtime sun. “You know it.”
She waggles her brows and stands. “Then let’s ride.”
I start walking with her. “We’ll have you wearing leather in no time.”
She grins up at me as we reach my bike. I hand her a helmet, lean down to do up the strap as her big doe eyes look up at me, and then I smirk as I move in to sit on my ride. She slides in behind me, her skirt riding up those gorgeous legs, and I start the engine. “You ready, Small Town?”
“Fuck yeah, City Boy, don’t hold back this time. Show me what your bike can really do!”
Shit! I just got fucking hard.
Subtly rearranging my cock, I then rev my engine and hammer down, taking off at breakneck speed. Her hands grip around my waist as she lets out a wild scream behind me—the sound like music to my ears.
I speed, weaving in and out of Vegas traffic, not caring about road rules or traffic lights. Marley wanted a biker, and I am giving her the whole experience.
Eventually, though, we end up at my apartment downtown, and as I pull up in the parking lot, killing the engine, Marley leaps off the bike, jumping around like a kid that’s had far too much candy.
“Oh my God, oh my God! That was the best thing I have ever done in my life.” She yanks off her helmet, thrusting it in my hands when I slide off the bike as she continues bouncing from foot to foot in her manic state.
The sight is something to behold.
Her hair is a wild, untamed mess.
Her face flushes red from the turbulent wind.
Her body moves around as if she’s a teenager at a rave concert.
This woman is fucking perfect.
I lean back against my bike, holding her helmet, and watch her in all her glory with the biggest smirk on my face until she is done. She stops, spins, looks at me, and then instantly panics.
“Shit!” She begins pulling at her shirt, which has been riding up, showing her belly. “I must look like a fucking giant whale doing Zumba. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
With lightning speed, I place the helmet on the bike and take two enormous strides toward her, my hands reaching out and grabbing her hips, pulling her to me.
My thumbs graze right where her shirt had been riding up moments earlier.
Her breath catches as I look directly into her eyes, making sure she hears me when I tell her this.
“These curves, this beautiful body you’re trying to hide, Marley…
don’t ever feel ashamed for showing it off, or for having fun in the moment.
Just then… watching you, I’ve never seen you more stunning.
I’m in awe of you, Marley Wren. Every day. All the fucking time.”
She swallows a lump down her throat, my thumbs still grazing the skin on her hips. I lean in briefly, the urge to kiss her so fucking overwhelming.
But then I remember that she doesn’t want that.
No kissing unless we’re at the gala, remember.
So instead, I shift my lips to kiss her forehead, pressing lightly, my eyes closing, wishing more than anything I were kissing her mouth right now.
When I pull back, she still stares at me like she continues to be in a state of shock.
So, I reach out, taking her hand in mine, and pulling her along with me. “C’mon, let’s go see the apartment.”
She nods, words seeming to have escaped her for the moment. I lead her up the elevator, no words spoken between us as we ascend, and we walk down the hall to apartment number 2017. It’s nothing flashy, but it is secure.
I unlock the door and let Marley in first. She walks into the living room and stops. She turns back to face me, her brow raised. “This place needs some serious love,” she says, honest observation without judgment.
She’s not wrong.
Bare beige walls. Minimal furniture—a sofa, coffee table, desk. No pictures, no personal touches. More like a hotel room than home.
“I don’t spend much time here,” I admit. “Just a place to handle my business shit.”
She walks to the window, looking out at the Vegas skyline. “Good bones. Great location. But yeah, depressing as hell.”
I laugh hard. “Tell me how you really feel.”
She turns, her eyes bright with excitement. “What if I fixed it up? Made it feel like a home? Some paint, pictures, actual curtains instead of those sad blinds?”
The idea of Marley putting her stamp on this place excites me. “Do whatever you want with it. Paint the walls pink, hang weird art, knock down a wall. Whatever you do to make it less depressing.”
Her smile is radiant. “I’m not knocking down walls, City Boy.”
“The offer stands.”
She turns, exploring the rest of the apartment—the small kitchen, a decent bathroom, and a bedroom with a queen bed. When she returns, she’s practically glowing.
“This is really okay, not some joke?”
“Do I make jokes?”
She tilts her head, placing her hand on her hip. “Only really bad ones. Like dad jokes but lamer.”
I chuckle with a genuine smile, slapping my hand to my chest. “Ouch! But no, this is not a joke. Treat this place as if it’s yours.”
“Thank you. This is amazing, Nitro.” Her shoulders relax, and she’s stopped fidgeting. Now she has a space that’s hers. Even if temporary, even if borrowed—it’s hers.
“When can I move in?”
“Whenever you want. I’ll give you a key.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow works.”
She crosses the space and hugs me. Her arms wrap around my waist, her head barely reaching my chest, but enough to make my breath catch.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You’re welcome, Small Town.”
She pulls back, looking up at me, close enough to kiss if we weren’t sticking to the plan.
“I should go,” she says without moving.
“Yeah,” I agree, not moving either, our eyes remain locked, the energy between us popping and cracking. The tension is about to snap, but finally, Marley steps back, easing the burning embers between us.
“I’ll text you tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll take you back,” I offer, and she shakes her head.
“It’s fine, I’ll catch an Uber… I’ve had good experiences with them. I know you probably need to get back to the club, and there’s probably shit here you need to take care of before I move in tomorrow.”
She’s right.
There is shit here I need to take care of.
Business information she doesn’t need to see. “Okay, be safe.”
She heads for the door, but then pauses. “Hey, Nitro?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we talked. And I’m glad you’re… you. All of you. Even the scary biker parts.”
Something warm spreads through my chest. “I’m glad you’re you too. Even the parts scared of bikers.”
She laughs, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day. She gently closes the door behind her, and after she leaves, I stand in the empty apartment, imagining what it’ll look like when she’s done—color on the walls, a few pictures, maybe even some throw pillows.
But I know the club will be wondering what the hell happened and why I left in a hurry, so I pull out my cell and text Sin.
Me: Crisis averted. She’s moving into the apartment.
Sin: Jesus… you work fast.
Me: It’s not like that. She needs a place. I have a place.
Sin: Sure. Keep telling yourself that, brother.
I look around once more. It’s been an apartment where I’m Damon Blackwell, where I handle the business side.
Always temporary.
But now it’s going to be Marley’s.
And when she’s done, I won’t recognize it.
I won’t want to.
Because Marley’s presence will blur the lines between the biker and the billionaire, and she’s seen both sides, even if she doesn’t fully know it. But better than that, instead of running, she’s choosing to stay.
I grab what I need from the office space in the apartment, then leave and head to my bike, the sun setting over Vegas like a glorious artwork I can’t even describe.
Yeah, I’m definitely visiting Marley to ‘check on her progress.’
A lot.
Maybe every day.
And I’m not even going to pretend it’s about the apartment.