Chapter 5
BONNIE
My head feels like someone’s taking a sledgehammer to it from the inside.
I crack one eye open and immediately regret it. Sunlight streams through the window, way too bright, way too cheerful for how I feel right now. My mouth tastes like I licked an ashtray, and my body aches in places I forgot could ache.
Worth it, though.
Memories from last night flood back in fragments. The bar, sitting on Ash’s lap, Titan throwing me over his shoulder. The ride to the cabin, all three of them looking at me like they’d been denied me for too long.
Everything that happened after.
Heat floods my face despite the pounding headache. I actually did that. Got drunk and propositioned three men at once, then followed through like some kind of—
A massive arm tightens around my waist, pulling me back against a wall of solid muscle.
“Hey, you up?” Titan mumbles against my hair.
I twist in his grip to look at him. He’s sprawled across most of the king-size bed, taking up space like it’s his job. His dark hair sticks up in every direction, stubble shadowing his jaw, eyes still closed. He looks younger when he sleeps, less like the enforcer who breaks bones for a living.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He pulls me closer, burying his face in my neck. “Stay.”
“I need coffee.”
“Coffee can wait.”
“My head is killing me.”
“That’s what happens when you drink half the bar.” His hand splays across my stomach, thumb tracing lazy circles.
“Where’s Ash and Ghost?” I ask.
“Gone, I guess.” He finally opens his eyes, dark and warm as they focus on me. “Probably handling club shit. You know how Ash gets.”
Yeah, I do. Duty before everything else. The club always comes first.
Unlike the situation I’m in, where I’m the thing being sacrificed for the club.
The thought sours my mood. Six more days until I become Mrs. Marcus Stone and lose everything that makes me who I am.
“Hey.” Titan’s hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “Where’d you go just now?”
“Nowhere. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing important.”
His expression shifts. He knows I’m lying, but doesn’t push. Instead, he rolls onto his back and stretches, arms above his head, showing off muscles that make my mouth go dry despite the hangover.
“Shower,” he announces. “Then food. Sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He swings out of bed, and I get a full view of him naked in the morning light. Six-foot-six of pure muscle and ink, tattoos covering his chest and arms in intricate designs. I’ve seen him shirtless countless times at the clubhouse, but this is different.
It feels like I’m allowed to look now.
He catches me staring and grins. “Like what you see, princess?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You didn’t mind it last night.”
Heat floods through me that has nothing to do with embarrassment. He’s right. I didn’t mind anything last night.
I follow him to the bathroom. It’s smaller than I expected, but clean. White tile, glass shower, basic toiletries on the counter. Titan turns on the water and waits for it to heat up.
“This is weird,” I say.
“What is?”
“This. Us. Acting like this is normal.”
“Why wouldn’t it be normal?” He tests the water temperature. “We’re two adults who had a good time last night. Nothing weird about that.”
“Except I’m supposed to marry someone else in six days.”
His jaw tightens. “No, Bonnie. Don’t talk about that right now.” He steps into the shower, holding out his hand. “Let’s just have this morning. Deal with reality later.”
I want to argue and make him understand that there is no later. There are only six more days, and then my life is over. But the look on his face stops me.
He doesn’t want to think about it.
So I take his hand and step into the shower with him.
Hot water cascades over us, steam curling around Titan’s massive frame as he pulls me under the spray.
His hand, rough from years of wrenching bikes and throwing punches, grips mine, steadying me on the slick tile.
My skin prickles, hangover fading under the heat of the water and his gaze, dark and hungry, raking over my naked body.
He towers over me, his inked chest glistening, muscles flexing as he steps closer, crowding me against the cool glass. “Fuck, you’re too gorgeous,” he murmurs, voice low. His free hand slides down my side, tracing the curve of my hip, and I giggle, nerves and want mixing in my chest.
“Titan,” I say, half-laughing, my voice echoing in the small bathroom. “You’re gonna make me blush.”
“Good.” His grin is wicked, fingers dipping lower, teasing the edge of my pussy. “Love seeing you all pink and flustered.”
I spread my legs, inviting him, water streaming down my breasts, my thighs. His fingers find my clit, circling slowly, and I gasp, pleasure sparking through me.
“Oh, yeah. Harder, please,” my hands gripping his shoulders to stay upright.
“Like this?” He rubs faster, two thick fingers slipping inside me, curling deep, and I moan, my pussy clenching around him. “So fucking wet already,” he growls, thumb brushing my clit as he pumps his fingers, slow then fast, stretching me. “This tight little pussy’s begging for me.”
I laugh, breathless, pleasure building fast. “Keep talking,” I say, voice playful but needy. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“Want it?” He leans closer, lips grazing my ear, water dripping from his hair onto my skin. “I wanna fuck this pussy till you’re screaming my name, princess. Gonna make you come so hard you forget that hangover.”
My giggles turn to moans, his fingers relentless, hitting that spot inside me that makes my legs shake. I’m soaking, my arousal mixing with the water dripping down my thighs. “Fuck, Titan,” I gasp, nails digging into his arms. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he says, as his thumb circles my clit faster, his fingers plunging deeper. “Come for me, Bonnie. Let me feel this pussy squeeze my fingers.”
Pleasure coils tight, his dirty words pushing me higher, and I’m giggling through gasps, the mix of his rough touch and playful talk undoing me.
“You’re so bad,” I say, laughing, then cry out as my orgasm hits, my pussy pulsing around his fingers, wetness flooding his hand.
My body shakes, knees buckling, but he holds me up, his arm strong around my waist.
“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs, kissing my neck as I come down, still giggling, my skin flushed and buzzing. He pulls his fingers out, licking them clean with a grin, and I laugh again, the sound echoing off the tiles.
By the time we’re both clean and satisfied, my hangover has dulled to a manageable throb. Titan finds me clothes—his T-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh on me, and my jeans from last night. I pull them on while he dresses, and we head out to his bike.
The morning air is cool and crisp, birds singing in the trees around the cabin. It’s peaceful out here. Isolated. The kind of place where you could forget the rest of the world exists.
But the rest of the world does exist, and it’s waiting for me back at the clubhouse.
“Where to?” Titan asks, straddling his Road King.
“Food first. I need grease and coffee, or I’m going to die.”
“Betty’s Diner?”
“Perfect.”
I climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. The engine rumbles to life, and we pull out, gravel crunching under the tires as we head back toward civilization.
The ride takes about twenty minutes, the forest giving way to open road and then to the outskirts of town.
Titan pulls into the parking lot of Betty’s Diner, a chrome-sided building that’s been here since the fifties.
Red vinyl booths are visible through the windows, a neon sign advertising breakfast served all day.
Inside, the smell of bacon and coffee hits me like a blessing. An older waitress with gray hair and a name tag that says “Dolores” waves us toward a booth.
“Sit anywhere, honey.”
We slide into a booth near the back. The vinyl is cracked and patched with duct tape, the table slightly sticky, but it’s familiar. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.
Dolores brings coffee without asking. “What can I get you two?”
“Everything,” Titan says. “Eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes. All of it.”
She writes it down and looks at me. “Same for you?”
“Just scrambled eggs and toast. And more coffee.”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
She disappears, and Titan dumps sugar into his coffee, three packets worth.
“How are you not bouncing off the walls?” I ask.
“Fast metabolism.” He grins. “Plus, I need the energy to keep up with you.”
My face heats. “Titan—”
“What? It’s true.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Last night was incredible. You know that, right?”
I do know. But hearing him say it makes my chest tight.
“It was just one night,” I say quietly.
“Doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes, it does.”
The food arrives, and we eat in comfortable silence. Titan demolishes his plate like he hasn’t eaten in days, while I pick at my eggs, my appetite suddenly gone. But the coffee helps, hot and strong and exactly what I need.
By the time we’re done, the sun’s fully up and the diner is starting to fill with the breakfast crowd. Titan pays at the counter, and we head back out to his bike.
“Clubhouse?” he asks.
“Yeah. I need to shower again and change into my own clothes.”
The ride back takes less time than I’d like. Too soon we’re pulling into the clubhouse parking lot, where a dozen bikes already sit in neat rows. My purple Softail is there among them.
“Your bike’s back,” Titan says.
“Yeah.” I climb off and look at it, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. Last night I rode to the bar thinking I’d get drunk and forget about my problems. Instead, I slept with three men, and now everything is more complicated than before.
“You okay?” Titan asks.
“Fine. Just tired.”
He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push. He pulls me in for a hug, his arms solid and warm around me. “It’s going to be okay,” he says against my hair.
I want to believe him. But I know better.
I head inside through the side entrance, hoping to avoid running into anyone. The clubhouse is quiet this time of morning; most of the brothers are out handling business. I make it to my bedroom without seeing anyone and close the door behind me with a sense of relief.
My room looks exactly how I left it. Band posters on the walls, sketchbook on the desk, clothes scattered across the floor.
I’m halfway to my closet when the door opens behind me.
I spin around to find Ash standing in the doorway, still in his vest from last night, eyes blazing. “We need to talk,” he says.
“I’m busy—”
“I don’t care.” He steps inside and closes the door. “You need to hear this.”
My irritation spikes. “I don’t need to hear anything—”
“You can’t marry him.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s not your decision.”
“It shouldn’t be your father’s decision either.” He moves closer, intensity rolling off him in waves. “I talked to Iron this morning. Tried to convince him to call off the wedding.”
“And?”
“He won’t budge. He says it’s the only way to save the club.”
“Then that’s that.”
“No, it’s not.” His jaw clenches. “You have to fight this, Bonnie. Stand up for yourself. Tell him you won’t do it.”
“And then what? The war continues? More brothers die? The club falls apart?” I shake my head. “I’m not that selfish.”
“It’s not selfish to want to live your own life—”
“Yes, it is. When you’re part of something bigger than yourself.” I turn away from him. I can’t look at his face anymore. “I’m the president’s daughter. I’ve always known I’d probably be used for a strategic marriage someday. This is just how it is.”
“Bullshit.” He grabs my arm and spins me back to face him. “You don’t have to accept this.”
“Let go of me.”
He does, immediately, but doesn’t step back. “Last night—”
“Last night was fun,” I cut him off. “It was exactly what I needed before I have to go tie myself to a man I don’t want. But that’s all it was. Fun.”
His expression shifts. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean it.” The lie tastes bitter, but I force it out anyway. “You don’t have any claim on me, Ash. None of you do. Last night doesn’t change anything.”
“The hell it doesn’t—”
“It was just sex.” Each word comes out sharper than the last. “Good sex, sure. But that doesn’t mean you get to suddenly play white knight and save me from my terrible fate.”
“I’m not trying to play white knight—”
“Yes, you are.” I step back, putting distance between us. “You’re acting like I’m some poor damsel who needs rescuing. But I don’t need rescuing. I need you to accept reality and stop making this harder than it already is!”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk into that marriage like a lamb to slaughter?”
“I’m going to do what’s best for my family. For the club.” I grab my leather jacket from where it’s draped over my desk chair. “And you’re going to let me.”
“Bonnie—”
“We’re done here.” I push past him toward the door. “I have to meet up with Snake.”
I don’t wait for his response. I walk out and don’t look back, even though I can feel his eyes on me the whole way down the hall.
Outside, I climb on my Softail and fire up the engine.
I pull out of the lot and head toward Snake’s tattoo shop on the other side of town, letting the wind clear my head.
For a few hours, at least, I can pretend I’m just a normal girl with a regular job, learning a trade I love from a mentor who sees me as more than a bargaining chip.