Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
KADE
I wait five minutes after she slips out, giving her time to get back to the main room before I exit the small room I pulled her into. My cock still strains against my pants, uncomfortable as fuck, but worth it for the memory of her coming apart on my tongue.
"Kade."
I look back to see Grace standing by the bathroom door, eyeing me with a look I can't decipher. Something knowing. Something worried.
"Hey." I walk back to her, hands in my pockets, trying to look casual.
"His wife." She says it flat. Statement, not question.
No use denying it. She knows. Must have seen Fallon leave before me. "I can't stay away from her."
The honesty surprises us both. Grace's expression softens, then hardens again. "Well, you might want to at least wipe her lipstick from your mouth before you go back out there."
Fuck.
I wipe at my lips with my suit jacket, not giving a shit about the fabric. Grace watches, then nods. "You're good."
We walk back out together, making our way through the crowd. The group has gotten a little larger than when we left, but I spot Fallon right away. Like my eyes are just drawn to her, can't help finding her in any room. She looks more relaxed now, standing with her shoulders not quite so rigid.
Knowing I did that has me grinning like a dumbass.
Grace elbows me hard. "Stop grinning like the idiot you are."
That wipes the smile off my face. We rejoin the group and I just listen, not really paying attention to anyone because I can't get my mind off what happened in that small room.
Her whimpers. Her moans. The way she started, she was shy but by the end she had me by the hair, pulling me into her, grinding that perfect goddamn pussy against my face and taking what she needed.
Fuck.
I can still smell her. Still taste her. I don't want it to go away.
"What the hell took you so long?"
The low voice behind me makes every muscle in my body lock up. I look over my shoulder. Fallon and her husband stand just behind us. He's looking at her with that expression I'm learning to hate—concern that isn't concern, question that's really accusation.
Grace must feel me tense because her hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me from reacting.
"I'm sorry I took so long." Fallon's voice comes out small, apologetic. Wrong. I don't like the way it sounds on her—like she's making herself smaller, quieter, less.
Before more can be said, Grace moves. Smooth as silk, she steps away from me and toward Fallon. "I need to mingle a little more, but I just wanted to thank you for your help in the bathroom."
Fallon blinks. "I, uh... no problem?"
"Your wife is so kind." Grace turns to Daniel now, her smile perfect. "I was having a panic attack and she helped me through it. Sorry for keeping her."
The lie rolls off her tongue easily. Natural. I watch Daniel's expression shift—suspicion melting into reassurance, the concern becoming real for a second because it makes him look good.
"Of course," he says, hand settling on Fallon's lower back. Possessive. "My wife is always happy to help."
I watch Fallon's face carefully. She doesn't flinch, but something flickers in her eyes. Relief, maybe. Gratitude.
"Kade." Grace calls over to me, pulling my attention. "There are people I need you to meet."
I turn, catching Fallon's eyes one more time. That grateful expression, the way her lips part slightly like she wants to say something but can't. Her husband's face, all reassured superiority. My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Grace tugs me away before I do something stupid.
"You're welcome," she mutters under her breath as we move through the crowd.
"Didn't ask for the save."
"You were about to deck a DA at a political fundraiser. You're welcome."
She's right. I was two seconds from putting my fist through his smug fucking face.
We spend the next hour making rounds. Grace introduces me to people whose names I forget immediately. Politicians, donors, assholes in expensive suits who all blend together. I nod. Shake hands. Play the part—respectable, controlled, not at all thinking about the woman across the room.
Except I am.
I spend the rest of the night watching Fallon from across the room while the taste of her lingers on my tongue.
She moves through conversations with practiced ease, smiling at the right moments, laughing at jokes that probably aren't funny.
Her husband stays close, hand always somewhere on her body. Claiming. Marking territory.
But every now and then, her eyes find mine. Brief. Careful. Like she's checking to make sure I'm still here, still real, still the man who made her come so hard she couldn't stand.
The memory makes my cock harden again. I adjust my stance, jaw clenching.
"You're staring," Grace says quietly beside me.
"Don't care."
"You should. People notice."
"Let them."
She sighs. "You're going to get yourself killed over her."
Maybe. Probably. The thought doesn't scare me like it should.
"Worth it," I say, and mean it.
"Is Daddy Stone coming?" I hear Grace's friend say as I get closer.
"Eww, Liz." Grace's voice carries disgust, and I almost laugh.
"What! Your dad is fucking hot."
I cringe. Hard. My stomach turns over itself.
"He's old," I say, walking up and surprising them both.
Liz spins around, not even embarrassed. "He's not old, he's a fine wine. Aged to perfection. God, I'm already jealous of the woman who gets his attention."
My face twists. "Uhuh. You ready, sis?"
Grace nods, clearly trying not to laugh at my discomfort. I'm picking her up because Damián's stuck in late meetings today and she wanted to catch a ride over with me for Sunday dinner. Easier than taking two cars.
"Ready when you are."
"I parked over here." I point to the parking lot on the other side of the large building. She wanted me to pick her up from campus so she could visit whatever-her-name-is.
"Alright, I'll see you in class tomorrow." Grace hugs her friend, squeezing tight.
"Sounds good! Oh, and hey—tell Daddy I said hi."
Grace laughs, the sound bright and genuine as she walks away with me.
"Your friend is gross," I say once we're out of earshot.
She just laughs again. "She's not alone. You realize most of the girls around the clubhouse have the hots for him, right?"
"No." I stop walking. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah, well, they do. And he's only forty, so he's not old."
"Of course you would say that. You're engaged to an old man."
"Hey, he's not old." She shoves my shoulder. "Besides, you're one to talk. Sleeping with a married woman—she's older, right? And how did you meet her anyway?"
My jaw tightens. "Yeah. She's older."
We reach the bike. I grab my helmet from where it's hooked on the handlebar and thrust hers toward her.
She takes it, smile widening. "Avoiding that one, I see."
I groan. The words stick in my throat, but Grace won't let this go. She never does.
"Come on. Spill."
"She's my teacher," I finally say.
Grace freezes, helmet halfway to her head. "You're joking."
"No. She's my English Lit teacher."
"Oh my god, Kade." Her voice drops, eyes wide.
"You really hit the forbidden jackpot. Older, your teacher, married, and she's somehow connected to ángel's political circle?
So that's bad news in itself. Those guys are no better than getting on the wrong side of the cartel. You need to be careful, okay?"
The concern in her voice makes my chest tight. "I will."
"I'm serious—"
"I know. I will." I pull my helmet on, cutting off the lecture I can feel building. "Now get on so we can get this whole production over with."
"It's called family dinner and I love them," she says, swinging her leg over the bike behind me.
I chuckle despite myself, feeling her arms wrap around my waist. "Hold on."
The engine roars to life beneath us, vibration thrumming through my body. I kick off the stand and pull out of the lot, weaving through campus traffic until we hit open road.
Grace leans into the turns, comfortable now. She's gotten good at riding with me over the past few months. Trusts me not to kill her, which is more than most people can say.
The clubhouse sits on the edge of town, far enough from civilization that the neighbors don't complain about noise. I pull through the gates, nodding at Gunner standing guard. He waves us through.
Sunday dinner. The one tradition Walker refuses to let slide no matter what shit's going down. Everyone shows up—brothers, old ladies, kids. Grace started coming when she found us, and now she fits in like she's always been here.
I park near the main building, cutting the engine. Grace climbs off first, pulling her helmet free. Her hair's a mess, cheeks flushed from the wind.
"Thanks for the ride."
"Yeah." I swing off the bike, hooking both helmets on the handlebars.
The smell of grilling meat hits me as we get closer. Voices carry from the back—laughter, conversation, the clatter of bottles and plates. Normal shit that feels almost foreign after the tension of the past few weeks.
Walker's at the grill, beer in one hand, tongs in the other. He looks up when we walk through, expression softening when he sees Grace.
"There's my girl."
She grins, moving toward him. I hang back, watching them hug. The way he holds her—careful but tight, like she might disappear if he lets go. He still can't quite believe she's real.
"Kade." Spider appears at my elbow, beer extended. "You look like you need this."
I take it. "That obvious?"
"You've got that look. The one that says you're thinking too hard about shit you shouldn't."
He's not wrong. I tip the bottle back, letting the cold liquid wash away some of the tension sitting heavy in my chest.
I drop into a chair at one of the weathered picnic tables scattered across the compound yard, the wood rough under my palms. Sevyn's already claimed half the bench, his massive frame making the heavy timber look almost delicate.
He doesn't acknowledge me, just keeps his pale eyes fixed on something across the compound I can't quite make out yet.