Chapter Thirty-Two
DIDN’T TAKE MORE than a second to see it, that stiff way she held herself, the way her eyes locked on her cup like it had all the answers she didn’t want from me. Then she stood, muttered somethin’ low, and walked off like I hadn’t just kissed her like she was the only damn thing that mattered.
I knew that look.
The retreat.
The walls slammin’ back up.
Whatever we’d built under that oak tree wasn’t gone, but it was cracked.
Goddamn it. Every time I start to reach her, somethin’ rips it away.
That hang-around who touched me? Hell, I couldn’t’ve told you her name if you put a gun to my head. She was the past, the shit I’d been tryin’ to bury. But Sable had seen enough. Didn’t matter that I’d pushed the woman off. Didn’t matter what I said. Damage was done.
The clubhouse roared around me, laughter spilling, pool balls crackin’, Brenda runnin’ her mouth like always, but my focus was already down that hall. Zeynep caught my eye once, her face too soft for this place, and I knew she felt it too: the empty space Sable left behind.
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets before I put a fist through a wall and headed that way. The hallway was quiet, dark, like it knew it was holdin’ somethin’ fragile.
I stopped at her door. Stared at it until my jaw ached. Thought about knockin’. Instead, I pressed my palm flat to the wood, leaned my forehead there like maybe I could get close enough for her to hear what I couldn’t say out loud.
“Sable.”
Silence.
“You awake?”
Still nothin’.
“I need you to know somethin’,” I said, keepin’ my voice unshakable, though my chest felt like it was caving in. “I haven’t kissed anyone else. Not since you. And I didn’t want to.”
The quiet stretched, cruel and heavy.
“I meant that kiss,” I rasped. “Every damn second of it.”
I dropped my hand, ready to walk. Ready to let her think what she needed to.
Then—click.
The lock turned. The knob shifted. The door opened a crack, just enough for me to see her face. Eyes rimmed red, shoulders locked like she was carryin’ the whole world on her back.
I didn’t move in. Didn’t push. Just stayed where I was.
“You left quick,” I said. Quiet. Careful.
She didn’t answer, but I caught the flicker in her eyes. I already knew why.
“You think if you weren’t there, I would’ve wanted her,” I said. Not a question. Just truth hangin’ between us.
Her chin dipped, almost a nod, almost not. “I don’t know what to think.”
I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “Yeah, I saw what you saw. A woman touchin’ me like she had every right to just like that night in my office. But that don’t mean I welcomed it. You understand?”
She swallowed, her voice thin. “How am I supposed to know the difference? All I’ve ever seen is men taking.
Gabrial used to make women dance for him, and he’d look at me, wanting me to feel jealous.
He wanted me to believe that was normal.
That women were just there to feed whatever a man needed. Lust or worship. Didn’t matter.”
Her words cut deep, but I didn’t look away. “Then let me show you different.”
“You must think I’m so strange,” she murmured, lowering her head like shame was draggin’ her down.
“No, I don’t. Gabrial kept you in a twisted bubble, shapin’ what the world was supposed to look like, what men expect.”
I stepped closer, slow, hands still loose at my sides.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, Sable. I’ve had women.
Plenty. Some I didn’t even bother rememberin’ their names.
That was my life—easy, empty, forgettable.
But the second I saw you on that road—scared, beautiful, brave—I knew I was done with that shit.
You ain’t forgettable. You’re the thing that stuck. ”
Her eyes snapped to mine, searching, afraid to believe.
“Just give us time,” I said, softer now. “I’m askin’ you to give me the chance to prove I’m not the man you’ve only ever known. You don’t gotta hand me your faith and your heart until you’re ready. Just… don’t shut me out when you’re confused. Talk to me instead.”
She stayed quiet. Her hand slid from the doorframe, fingers brushing mine before she stepped back, leavin’ space.
That was all the answer I needed.
I crossed the threshold, slow, careful. Close enough to feel her breath hitch.
“Once you’ve been around the clubhouse longer,” I said, lookin’ her in the eyes, “you’ll see how it works. And once those sweet butts and hang-arounds realize you’re mine? They’ll back off. Real quick.”
Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue, but no words came. Just the smallest nod, her chest risin’ too fast, her pulse jumpin’ at her throat.
The silence stretched, hot and charged. My hand twitched, wantin’ to cup her cheek, to finish what we’d started under that oak tree. But I held steady.
She spoke first, her voice fragile but edged enough to cut. “I don’t know how to believe yet. It’s me, not you.”
I nodded once, slow. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Take your time.”
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Her eyes glistened, my heart hammered, and everything in the room felt balanced on a knife’s edge, one wrong move and it would all collapse.
But she didn’t close the door.
“You want to come in?”
My throat worked once, hard. “Yeah,” I said softly, final. “Yeah, I do.”
I stepped inside, closin’ the door behind me with a quiet click. She didn’t move far, just enough to let me in, just enough space for me to feel the pull of her all over again.
For a beat, we just stood there. The room felt smaller with her in it, like the walls knew they were holdin’ somethin’ fragile. She kept her arms wrapped tight across her middle, but her eyes never left mine.
I wanted to touch her. Christ, I wanted to. But I kept my hands loose at my sides, waitin’.
Her breath caught, barely audible. Then she stepped closer. Just a half-step, but it was enough. Her shoulder brushed my chest, light as a whisper.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, her voice raw.
“You don’t gotta know,” I said, softer than I meant to. “You just gotta be here.”
She nodded once, eyes shining in the dim light, and somethin’ in her broke, not loud, not messy, just a small surrender.
She leaned into me, slow and cautious, and I wrapped an arm around her, solid, careful.
No pressure. Just presence. She fit against me like she’d been built to rest there, her cheek to my chest, her breath warm through my shirt.
We didn’t speak. I just held her.
Minutes stretched into hours, the noise of the clubhouse fading to nothin’. Her breathing evened out first, soft and steady, her body finally lettin’ go in my arms. I shifted only enough to get us onto the bed, pullin’ her close against me, one arm curved protectively around her waist.
She didn’t stir. Didn’t tense. Just let herself be held.
And me? I lay there in the dark, wide awake, breathin’ her in. For once, I didn’t feel the urge to move, to escape, to chase the night. For once, stayin’ put felt like the only thing I ever wanted.
When sleep finally came for me, it came with her in my arms. That’s how I knew—I was already gone.
***
SUNLIGHT HAD JUST started slidin’ through the curtains, soft and golden, when I opened my eyes.
Sable was still curled into my side, her breath warm against my chest, fingers tangled in the hem of my shirt like she’d anchored herself to me sometime in the night. She hadn’t stirred much, before every creak or shift sent her flinchin’, like she expected hands draggin’ her out of sleep.
Not last night.
She’d rested.
With me.
I laid there longer than I should’ve, memorizing the weight of her pressed against me, the way her hand fisted in my shirt like she was hangin’ on for dear life. Like she knew I was the last line standin’ between her and the world that wanted to chew her up.
And maybe I was. Hell, I’d shoulder that for her, flawed, busted, mean as sin if I had to be.
But underneath it all, I was burnin’. That slow, gnawin’ hunger I’d never felt this hard for a woman before—deep, insistent, crawlin’ through muscle and bone.
It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t gentle. It was raw need, coiled tight in my gut.
Every inch of me wanted to flip her beneath me, mark her, make it real clear she wasn’t just hidin’ out in my bed, she belonged there.
The hang-arounds? The sweet butts? They’d never meant a damn thing.
A warm body, a quick fix, forgettable the second they walked out the door.
But Sable? She was already carved into me.
The kind of want that made a man dangerous.
The kind that had me thinkin’ about blood on my knuckles and bodies in the dirt if anybody so much as breathed wrong around her.
I forced it down, teeth grit, breath unwavering. She wasn’t ready for that kind of storm. Not yet. So I laid there, still as stone, lettin’ her cling like she needed me calm, while inside, I was already hers in ways she didn’t even understand.
Eventually, I eased out from under her, slow as I could, makin’ sure not to wake her. Grabbed my cut from the back of the chair and slipped into the hallway.
The clubhouse was still and hushed, only the quiet hum of the fridge from the common room and the familiar groan of old floorboards under my boots keepin’ me company.
Didn’t last long.
“Thunder.”
Devil’s voice cracked through the silence like a whip. He rounded the corner already dressed, already focused, like always. Eyes red as coals, locked on me.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked, fallin’ in beside him without missin’ a beat.
He didn’t speak ‘til we hit the war room. Inside, Chain, Gearhead, and Bolt were already seated, all of ‘em lookin’ like they’d been dragged outta bed with the same bad taste in their mouths.
“Sit,” Devil ordered.
I dropped into the nearest chair, gut tightening under the weight of his tone. Devil picked up a folded piece of paper from the table, slid it my way.