Chapter Twenty-Three
ELIZABETH
The next morning, I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and the weight of Sin’s arm across my waist, holding me possessively against his chest. For a moment, I just soak in the warmth, the safety, the calmness of being in his arms.
Then reality crashes back in.
I slept with him.
Again.
Gave myself to him completely.
Crossed every line I swore I wouldn’t cross.
I should feel guilty.
I should be drowning in self-recrimination.
But I don’t.
I feel… settled.
Like some piece of me that’s been jagged and broken has finally found where it fits. I shift under the sheets, trying to slip away, but Sin’s arm tightens around me, pulling me flush against him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is low, rough with sleep, but laced with command.
“I should—” I start, but he cuts me off by rolling me onto my back, covering me with his weight, caging me in.
“You should stay right here.” His mouth brushes the line of my jaw, teeth scraping lightly against my skin. “We’re not done, wildcat.”
His hand slides beneath the sheet, skimming over my ribs, my stomach, until his fingers settle between my thighs. The touch is firm and claiming as he strokes over my folds. I gasp, my hips jerking into his hand.
“You’re already wet for me.” His words are velvet, thick with satisfaction. “Tell me that’s for me.”
“Yes,” I whisper, breath hitching when his fingers slide inside me, slow and deliberate.
His eyes stay locked on mine as he curls his fingers deep, his thumb circling with perfect pressure. “Good. Because I’m not letting you start the day without knowing you’re mine in every way.”
My body arches, hips rolling against his hand, desperate for more. His other arm braces above my head, his weight heavy, grounding, inescapable. The heat builds, slow and steady, every nerve sparking as he works me up.
“Sin…” My voice breaks on a moan, legs trembling, toes curling into the sheets. My chest heaves, heart racing as the pressure coils tight inside me.
“Look at you,” he states, lips brushing my ear. “Fucking gorgeous when you’re falling apart like this.”
“Fuck me…” The words tear out of me, shaky and raw, more confession than demand.
His grin is wicked, but his voice drops low, rough with something that makes my pulse jump.
“Careful what you ask for, wildcat.” His fingers glide over my hip as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging, taunting, until I’m gasping for more.
Then he drives in slow, deliberate, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural sound torn from deep in his chest.
The stretch knocks the breath from my lungs while my nails rake across his back, my body clutching him tight. But it’s his eyes locking onto mine that leaves me undone.
Everything freezes. The air between us crackles. His stare isn’t just hungry, it’s raw, unguarded, like I’ve peeled him open without even trying. Heat roars through me, but beneath it, something dangerous sparks.
Something that feels a hell of a lot like truth.
I’m in too deep.
I know it in the ache in my chest, in the way I can’t look away.
And he knows it too.
I see it in the way his breath stutters, in the way his jaw tightens like he hates admitting it but can’t deny it.
“Come with me, wildcat,” he murmurs, voice rough but low, almost tender. “I want to feel you lose it around me.”
The words detonate inside me, shattering whatever restraint I had left.
My body coils tight, trembling, every nerve on fire.
The orgasm builds slowly, unbearable, curling up from my toes, tightening my thighs around his hips, dragging a moan from deep in my chest. My nails dig into his back, clawing at him like I can anchor myself against the massive wave about to break.
“Sin…” I gasp, voice breaking, my head tipping back against the pillow. My eyelids flutter, vision blurring as heat crashes through me. “I-I can’t—”
“Yes, you fucking can,” he snarls against my mouth, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. His hips piston harder, deeper, grinding in ruthless rhythm while his cock stretches me to the edge of breaking. “Give it to me, wildcat. Now. Let me feel you.”
The command wrecks me. My body seizes, clamping down around him, my orgasm detonating so violently I scream his name into his shoulder. White heat pulses through me, wave after brutal wave, tearing me apart until I’m shaking with the sheer intensity of it.
I feel him shudder, the way his arms tighten like iron around me, his thrusts losing rhythm, turning frantic.
His breath stutters hot against my neck, broken groans ripped from his throat.
“Fuck… E-Elizabeth.” His voice is jagged, guttural, a growl torn from somewhere primal.
He slams deep, grinding hard as his cock jerks inside me.
His release floods hot, claiming, spilling until I feel it dripping between us.
His whole body convulses, chest heaving, forehead pressing to mine like he’s holding on by a thread.
We move together in small, helpless rolls, chasing the last sparks, riding out the aftershocks until I’m boneless beneath him. Every tremor in my body echoes his, our moans tapering into ragged breathing, the air thick with sweat and sex.
His weight drapes over me, heavy and protective, his chest crushing mine in the best possible way. His heart pounds wildly against me, as if it’s syncing with my own erratic rhythm. My fingers twitch against his damp skin, memorizing the heat, the scent, the raw reality of him.
And when his voice finally rumbles low in my ear, rough, spent, still alpha, it’s not a question, not a plea. Just a truth I already know. “You’re fucking relentless, wildcat.”
A slow smile crosses my face as I glance up at him, my fingers gently caressing his face. “Only with you. But we should probably get up. If I stay in here any longer, I’m never going to leave this room.”
He waggles his brows at me. “Well then, we probably should.” But he doesn’t move either, instead, he pulls me closer. “Just five more minutes.”
Five minutes turns into ten. Then fifteen. Neither of us wants to break this bubble we’ve created.
But eventually, we can’t hide anymore.
The clubhouse is waking up. I hear voices, footsteps, and the sound of coffee being made.
We dress in silence, both of us hyperaware of how this looks, what it means. When we’re both presentable—though I’m sure I look thoroughly ravished despite my best efforts—Sin catches my hand. “Hey…” He waits until I look at him. “No regrets?”
“No regrets,” I lie. Because the regret isn’t about him, it’s about the lies I’m still telling. The truth I’m still hiding.
He kisses me once more, soft, sweet, and at odds with everything that came before. Then he unlocks the door.
The moment we step into the main room, I know the club is aware of what happened. Brothers don’t say anything directly, but I catch the knowing looks, the small smirks, the raised eyebrows.
Nitro’s expression is the most complex—conflicted, like he still doesn’t fully trust me but respects Sin’s choice enough not to say anything.
Ghost gives Sin a subtle nod of approval as we pass, something unspoken passing between them.
Millie and Ro are restocking the bar. The moment they see us, both women break into matching grins.
“Well, well, well,” Ro says, not even trying to hide her amusement. “Look who finally stopped fighting the inevitable.”
Millie’s smile is gentler but no less knowing. “About damn time, if you ask me.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but before I can respond, Ro is around the bar, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from Sin. “Oh no, Pres, she’s ours now. We need details.” She winks at me. “Girl talk. You understand.”
Sin just shakes his head, that small smile playing at his lips. “Don’t scare her off, Ro.”
“Please! I think she can handle us just fine.”
As Ro and Millie pull me toward the back, I glance over my shoulder at Sin. He’s watching me, those mismatched eyes intense and possessive.
And something shifts inside me.
This isn’t just physical anymore.
This isn’t just attraction, or desire, or even the heat of the moment.
I’m falling for him.
The realization hits me like a freight train, stealing my breath. I’m falling for Sin, the president of the Las Vegas Defiance MC.
The man I was sent to destroy.
And I don’t even know anything about him, really. I don’t even know his real fucking name!
Panic comes next, swift and overwhelming. What happens when they find out I’m a cop? When they discover I’ve been lying this entire time? When they realize I’m Marcus’ sister, and that I’ve been using them to get answers about my brother?
But then Sin looks at me from across the room, really looks at me, and the panic fades.
Not because the danger isn’t real.
Not because the fallout won’t be devastating.
But because in this moment, I know the truth.
I’m not protecting the department anymore.
I’m protecting the club.
I’m protecting him.
Whatever comes, I’ll face it. And I’ll do everything in my power to bring down Captain Rourke and the Hidden Hand Alliance.
Not as an undercover cop.
Not for the department that failed my brother.
But for Marcus.
For the club that’s been fighting for him all along.
And for myself, whoever I am now, caught between two identities, but finally knowing where my loyalty lies.
With them.
With him.
Even if it destroys me in the end.