Chapter 2 #2
"There," I shout over the rumble. "Just like that. That's it, wrap those thighs tight."
I feel her stiffen at the praise, but she doesn't let go. She can't.
I peel away from the curb and bank hard onto Main Street, the tires screaming beneath me. I catch a glimpse of Riley, the influencer, standing on the sidewalk with phone raised, recording us as we roar past. Good. Let the whole town see the lawyer wrapped around the Enforcer.
We leave the town behind quickly, the asphalt giving way to the winding mountain roads that lead up to Grizzly Peak. This is my territory. The air gets colder, cleaner. The pine trees grow thicker, towering over the road like sentinels.
Every curve of her body presses against my back. Her breasts flatten against my leather cut, her thighs bracketing my hips. She’s tense, holding on for dear life, but as we lean into the switchbacks, she starts to move with me. She has to. On a bike, you’re either one unit, or you’re roadkill.
We hit the gravel turnoff for the eastern cliffs. The bike fishtails slightly, controlled chaos. Her grip tightens, her nails digging into my stomach through the leather. I love it. I want her deeper. I want her under my skin.
I pull up to the clearing that marks the edge of the proposed expansion site. The view here is staggering—a sheer drop-off overlooking the entire Pine Valley basin, mist clinging to the treetops below. Wild, untouched, lethal.
I kill the engine. Silence rushes back in, deafening, filled only by the wind and the ticking of the cooling metal.
She scrambles off the bike immediately, her legs wobbling. Ripping the helmet off, she shakes her hair loose. It falls in a dark, glossy cascade around her shoulders. She looks flushed, wind-battered, and absolutely beautiful.
"You're a maniac," she breathes, glaring at me. "You did that on purpose."
"Did what?" I swing off the bike, moving toward her. "Drove?"
"You... you..." She waves a hand at the road, unable to articulate the sensory overload.
"Admit it," I say, stepping into her personal space again. I back her toward the wooden railing that guards the cliff edge. "You liked it. Better than sitting in a coffee shop reading zoning laws."
"I did not like it," she lies. Her chest heaves. "I'm here to inspect the site. Show me the nesting grounds."
"Look around, Cassandra." I gesture wide.
She turns, looking at the clearing. It’s a plateau of rock and scrub pine. "Where is the structure going?"
"Right here," I point to the bedrock. "Foundation drilled into the stone. Low impact. Solar grid on the roof. We’re not cutting down the old growth. We’re building into the rock.
" I point to the craggy cliff face to the left.
"The falcons nest in the high crevices, three hundred feet up.
The building will be single-story, low profile. We won't touch their flight paths."
She walks the perimeter, her lawyer brain engaging. Checking sightlines, drainage, topography. I watch her. I watch the way her hips sway in that pencil skirt, the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking.
"The noise," she counters, turning back to me. "Motorcycles. Construction."
"Electric ATVs for the rescue ops," I say smoothly. "And we respect the mountain. We don't rev engines up here unless it's life or death."
She pauses, looking at me with grudging surprise. "You've thought about this."
"We're not savages, Cassandra. We live here. We protect this." I take a step closer, closing the trap. "Why are you really fighting this? Is it the birds? Or is it because you took a look at me and decided I was everything you're supposed to hate?"
She lifts her chin. "I don't hate you. I don't know you. You're just an obstacle to my client's interests."
"Liar."
I’m on her in a second. I crowd her against the railing. Behind her is a thousand-foot drop. In front of her is six-foot-four of possessive biker.
"You felt it yesterday," I murmur, bracing my hands on the railing on either side of her, boxing her in. "In the alley. And you felt it just now on the bike. Your pulse hammers against your skin like a live wire ready to snap."
"Adrenaline," she gasps, her eyes darting to my mouth. "It's just adrenaline."
"Is it?" I lower my head, inhaling the scent of her neck. "You smell like adrenaline. And arousal."
"Chase..." A warning that sounds like a plea.
"Say it again," I growl, my voice dropping into a register that vibrates through the rock beneath us. "I want to hear you scream my name while I’m buried to the hilt in your soaking pussy, my cock stretching you until you can’t remember your own fucking name.
I want to feel your clit twitching against my thumb while I fill you with my seed, marking you so deep no other man will ever dare look at you.
She shoves at my chest, but her hands lack force. They rest there, fingers curling into the leather of my cut. "This is inappropriate. I am opposing counsel."
"You're not opposing anything right now.
" I move my hand from the railing, my palm spanning the narrow curve of her waist. Her body jolts, her breath hitching as I feel the heat radiating off her through that silk blouse.
"Let me go," she whispers, but her nipples are hard against my chest, betraying the lie.
I slide my hand down, over the curve of her hip, gripping her firmly. I pull her flush against me. The size difference is obscene. She has to tilt her head way back to look me in the eye.
"Let me go," she whispers.
"Make me."
We stare at each other, the air crackling. The precipice. I could kiss her right now. Take her mouth and ruin her for anyone else. But I don't just want a kiss. I want surrender.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, severing the connection.
She jumps, startled, and I step back, giving her an inch of space. She scrambles to pull the phone out. Looking at the screen, she pales.
"It's Mayor Thompson," she says, her voice shaky.
"Answer it," I say, crossing my arms.
She swipes the screen. "Mayor Thompson? Yes. Yes, I'm... I'm inspecting the site." She listens, her eyes widening. She looks at me, horror dawning on her face. "What? No. No, that's not—who sent you a picture?"
I smile. Riley.
"No, we are not... there is no conflict of interest," she stammers. "It was purely for transport. My rental couldn't—" She stops, listening again. Her face flushes a deep crimson. "I understand. Yes. I'll be there in an hour."
She hangs up, looking like she’s about to be sick.
"Problem?" I ask.
"Someone sent a picture of us," she hisses. "Of me on your bike. Arms around you. The Mayor says there are rumors circulating that we're... involved. He's concerned about the integrity of the permit hearings if the opposing counsel is sleeping with the applicant."
"Are we sleeping together?" I ask, raising a brow. "I must have missed the best part."
"This isn't a joke!" She paces, her heels clicking on the stone. "If my firm hears about this, I could be pulled from the case. I could lose my partnership track. I need to issue a denial immediately."
"Deny it," I shrug. "See if they believe you. You know how small towns are. Once the story is out, the truth doesn't matter."
She stops pacing and glares at me. "You planned this."
"I planned to show you the site. The town did the rest." I move toward her again, my expression hardening. "But maybe this isn't a disaster, Cassandra. Maybe it's an opportunity."
"For who? You?"
"For both of us." I stop in front of her. "The council is deadlocked. The town is split. Half of them want the jobs and the safety center; the other half are scared of the 'big bad bikers.' But if they think we're together..."
"If they think we're together, it's a conflict of interest!"
"Not if we frame it right," I say, my mind working fast. "We tell them we're negotiating.
That we're finding a middle ground. The environmentalist and the biker, bridging the gap.
People eat that shit up. It softens my image, makes me look reasonable because a smart, classy woman like you sees something in me.
And for you... it shows you're not just an outsider trying to dictate rules.
It shows you're listening to the locals. "
She stares at me, her mouth slightly open. "You want to fake a relationship? To get a zoning permit?"
"I want the permit," I say, my voice dropping low again. I step close, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her jaw. "And I want you to stop fighting me."
Gooseflesh ripples down her arms. "This is unethical. It's insane."
"It's the only way you stay on the case," I point out. "If you deny it and they don't believe you, you're pulled. If you lean into it, say we're working closely to resolve the dispute... you stay. You get to keep your eye on the falcons. And I get my center."
She looks at me, searching for the trap. She's smart. She knows there's more to it.
"And what do you get out of it, Chase? Besides the permit?"
I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing her bottom lip. It’s soft, full, trembling.
"I get you," I say simply.
"For the charade," she clarifies, though her voice is breathless.
"Call it whatever you want, Counselor." I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "But you're not leaving Pine Valley until I say so. And right now... I say you're mine."
She doesn't pull away. She doesn't argue. The fight has gone out of her, replaced by that thick, heavy tension that precedes a different kind of struggle.
"One month," she whispers. "Until the next council vote. We pretend to cooperate. We pretend... whatever this is. And then I leave."
"One month," I agree.
I don't tell her that in one month, her pussy will be so addicted to my length that the thought of Boston will make her dry. I don't tell her that I’m going to spend every second of that month claiming every inch of her skin until she’s leaking for me on command.
I don't tell her that once a Gunnar claims something, he keeps it forever.
"We have a deal?" I ask, my hand sliding up her thigh to the very edge of her lace panties.
She looks at my hand, then at my eyes. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. "We have a deal."
I grin, a feral, satisfied thing. I grab her hand, pulling her back toward the bike.
"There's my little shark," I murmur. "Now let's go give the town something to really talk about."