3. Lilly-Rose
LILLY-ROSE
Iwake to motorcycles starting beyond the guest-room window and the memory of Cash’s mouth on mine.
Engines roll through the compound while last night returns in far too much detail: his hand at my neck, his body between my knees and the moment he stopped even though I asked him not to.
I slept badly afterward, half listening for another vehicle at the gates and half wondering whether two doors were enough to stop me from walking into his room. Morning hasn’t improved my judgment.
The overnight bag Dad brought last night sits open on the dresser.
I shower, dress in clean jeans and a soft green top, then step into a compound already in motion.
Armed brothers change places near the gate, motorcycles idle outside the garage and Kane speaks with Tank.
Nobody looks like a secret saint. These are dangerous men living behind steel gates, carrying guns without apology and trusting one another more than they trust anybody outside their walls.
I have no idea why I find that concept comforting, but somehow I do.
Cash stands inside the garage talking to Judge. His black cut hangs over a fitted T-shirt, and the sight of him sends a slow pull through my stomach before he even looks at me. When he does, his gaze lands briefly on my mouth.
Cash comes toward me but stops outside touching distance. “Coffee’s inside. Your father will be here in ten minutes.”
The deliberate space between us irritates me more than it should. “Did he call?”
“Yeah, he called Kane. He’s bringing an update.”
Cash turns toward the clubhouse, leaving me to follow. At the bar, he pours coffee and adds milk without asking before sliding the mug across the counter.
“How do you know how I take it?”
“You stop at the diner most mornings.”
“You’ve been monitoring my coffee?”
“I pay attention.” His fingers rest an inch from mine, the deliberate distance more irritating after where those hands were last night.
Before I can answer, the gates open and Dad drives through alone. He’s still wearing yesterday’s uniform, though the shirt is creased and dark stubble shadows his jaw. The sheriff gets out carrying a slim folder and looks toward every man in the yard before his attention reaches me.
He checks my wrist and face in a single sweep. “How are you?”
“Fine. The bruising looks worse than it feels.”
His gaze shifts to Cash behind the bar, then returns to me for half a second. I don’t know whether kissing leaves guilt visible, but my father has interviewed liars for most of his adult life.
“Somewhere private,” he says.
Kane leads us into church. The long table, patched up chairs and painted club emblem make the room feel nothing like a police interview room, but the men settle around it with the same quiet authority.
Judge takes the chair beside Kane. Dad sits opposite them, while Cash remains close enough to me that the edge of his cut brushes my arm when he moves.
The sheriff opens the folder. “Doran has worked for Wade before, it seems. Collections, intimidation, witnesses changing statements. Wade accessed every case I reopened after King died and has been asking where Lilly-Rose is. I contacted a state investigator directly.”
“Can you arrest him?”
“Not yet. I have patterns, not proof he ordered the grab. If I move too soon, he destroys what he’s hiding.”
Kane folds his arms. “So she stays.”
“Another day, maybe two. My house is known, and this is the one place he can’t enter quietly. Lilly-Rose has become his desperate plan. He knows I’m closing in and he’ll do anything to make me stop.”
“I’m all right here,” I tell him.
His attention moves toward Cash again. “I can see that.”
“Dad!”
“Just fucking keep it professional,” he tells Cash.
“I’m sitting right here,” I say. “You don’t need to issue instructions about me as though I’m evidence somebody logged into a property room.”
His expression softens, but only slightly. “I’m trying to keep you alive and safe.”
“I know. That doesn’t make me fifteen.”
“No. But you’re my only daughter, and you’re staying in a biker compound.”
My dad kisses my temple, tells Kane he’ll call as soon as the outside investigator finds something and heads for the door. Before leaving, he looks back at me. “Lilly, being protected by dangerous men doesn’t make them less dangerous.”
My gaze meets Cash’s. “I haven’t forgotten what they are.”
Something shifts in his face, but Dad is already walking away and he’s making it crystal clear to anyone listening that he doesn’t trust anyone in this compound.
After answering work emails and rescheduling two appointments, I decide to go to Cash’s room.
He’s found every single reason to be nowhere near me today and it’s driving me crazy.
His room is near the end of the corridor and the door stands open.
Cash is pulling a clean shirt from the dresser when I step inside.
“You need something?” he says without looking at me, as if he’s been expecting me.
“I need you to stop acting like last night didn’t happen just because my father came through those gates.”
Cash closes the dresser drawer. “I remember what happened.”
“You’ve barely come near me.”
“Your dad spent the night proving his chief deputy ordered your kidnapping. He doesn’t need to watch me make a move over breakfast.”
“I wanted you before the parking lot, and you’re trying to make this a whole lot more complicated, Cash.”
His eyes darken. “Wanting doesn’t mean you know what you’re asking for.”
“I know you kissed me until I couldn’t think. I know we watched each other for months.”
He comes closer. “Watching the bad man across the street is easy. You get to wonder, then go home to a life where nobody carries a gun or answers to a club.”
“You don’t get to decide what kind of life I want.”
His gaze moves down my body. “You’re a good girl who wants to find out what happens when a man like me stops being careful. Tell me I’m wrong.”
The denial won’t come. I put my hands on his chest. “Maybe I’m tired of wondering and being that good girl.”
His hand closes behind my neck. “That’s better.”
Then he kisses me and there’s nothing restrained about it. Cash walks me backward until the door closes behind my shoulders, one hand buried in my hair while the other grips my hip and pulls me against him. His tongue takes mine in slow, deep strokes that become harder when I open for him.
I drag his shirt from his jeans, desperate for skin.
Cash lifts his arms long enough for me to pull it over his head, and I finally see the body I’ve imagined beneath black cotton and leather.
Tattoos spread across his broad chest and ribs, dark ink following the solid ridges of his stomach before disappearing beneath his waistband.
“You’ve stared at this long enough,” he says. “Touch it.”
I run both hands over him. His skin is hot, the muscle beneath it harder than it looked from across the street. When my fingers reach his belt, Cash catches one wrist and presses it beside my head.
“Still think I’m arrogant?”
“Yes.”
His mouth curves against mine. “Liar.”
He kisses me again while opening my jeans, then slides one hand beneath the denim and lace. The first drag of his fingers through my wetness pulls a broken breath from me.
Cash lifts his head. “This from arguing with me?”
“You wish.”
“I know.” His thumb finds my clit, circling slowly while two fingers press inside me. “You were wet before you walked into the room.”
My hips tilt toward his hand. “You really do enjoy hearing yourself talk.”
“I enjoy watching your body prove me right.”
He curls his fingers, and the answer dies in my throat. Cash watches my face with a focus that feels more intimate than the hand between my thighs. He learns quickly, repeating the angle that makes my legs weaken and increasing the pressure whenever I move against him.
“Cash.”
“That’s it.” His mouth moves down my throat. “Let me hear what the sheriff’s good girl sounds like when she stops following the rules.”
The forbidden truth tightens everything low in my stomach. My father is hunting a corrupt deputy while I’m in an outlaw’s room with his fingers inside me.
I drag Cash’s mouth back to mine. “She sounds impatient.”
His thumb moves faster. “Then come for me.”
The orgasm hits hard enough to make my knees give.
Cash holds me against the door, his arm firm around my waist while his fingers work me through every pulse.
When the pleasure becomes too sharp, he slows and withdraws his hand.
Still breathless, I watch him taste his fingers, and my body clenches again.
“You look pleased with yourself.”
“I’ve wanted to do that for months.” He turns me toward the bed. “Take off your clothes.”
The command is quiet and confident enough that I obey before deciding whether I should tease him for it. I push my jeans and underwear down, then pull my top over my head. When I reach behind me to release my bra, Cash catches my hand.
“Leave it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve imagined you wearing something exactly like that while I fucked you.”
The directness makes my skin burn. He unfastens his belt, watching me as he lowers his jeans and underwear.
The words land somewhere deeper than I’m prepared to examine, especially when his cock springs free, thick, hard and already glistening at the tip.
He cups my jaw gently. “Say what you came in here for.”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “I want you.”
“That isn’t all of it.”
I know what he wants me to own. Every private thought I had behind those bank windows.
“I want the biker my father warned me about to stop holding back.”
Cash’s expression changes, hunger cutting through the last of his control. “Now you’ve got him.”