Chapter 17
Grim
Grim felt Sophia’s arms tighten around him as the bike rumbled beneath them, the engine vibrating through both their bodies. The sun was sinking low, streaking the sky in deep oranges and bruised purples. He could feel her breath against his back, steady but a little too quick.
She’d been to the clubhouse once before. Early afternoon. Quiet. Tense. Nothing like this.
This was the Saints in full force, loud, chaotic, unfiltered. And he knew she felt the difference.
He pulled into the lot, gravel crunching under the tires. Music thumped from inside the clubhouse, bass vibrating through the ground. Laughter spilled out into the warm air. The familiar mix of grilled meat, cigarette smoke, oil, and spilled beer wrapped around him like a second skin.
Sophia slid off the bike, smoothing her hair. She tried to look calm, but Grim saw the way her fingers trembled for half a second before she tucked them into her pockets.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “This isn’t like last time.”
She looked up at him. “I know.”
“You don’t have to go in if you’re not ready.”
Her eyes softened, but her chin lifted. “I am ready.”
He wasn’t sure he was.
Grim glanced toward the clubhouse doors, loud and crowded and full of people who didn’t know how to mind their business. People who would look at her. Judge her. Test her. Test him.
He almost told her they should go home. Almost said he’d bring her another day, when things were calmer, when he wasn’t still raw from last night, when he wasn’t terrified of letting her see too much too fast.
But Sophia stepped closer, her hand brushing his forearm, a soft, grounding touch that cut through the noise in his head.
“Maddox,” she said gently, “I want to be here.”
His chest tightened. She didn’t say it like a challenge. She said it like a promise.
He exhaled slowly. “It’s loud in there. People talk. They stare. They’re not trying to be rude, they’re just… Saints.”
“I can handle people staring,” she said.
He searched her face. “They’re going to know what you mean to me.”
Sophia’s expression softened. “Good.”
The word hit him harder than it should have.
He reached for her hand — not thinking, just needing the contact — and she laced her fingers through his without hesitation. Her hand was small in his, warm, steady. It grounded him in a way nothing else did.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, a silent question.
She squeezed his fingers, a silent answer.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Then stay close to me.”
“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
Something in him eased. Something else tightened.
He placed his hand on the small of her back, protective and guiding and claiming without meaning to, and led her toward the doors.
The moment they stepped inside, the energy shifted.
Heads turned. Conversations paused. People noticed.
But this time, the attention wasn’t just on Sophia, it was on Brick.
He was propped on a barstool, bandaged but grinning, a beer in hand while Havoc clapped him on the back hard enough to make the kid wince.
“Look who finally decided to stop hogging hospital beds,” Rook called out.
Brick flipped him off good-naturedly.
Sophia’s eyes widened slightly. “He looks… okay.”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” Grim said.
Switchblade and Ghost spotted Grim first. They straightened instinctively, nodding in respect.
“Good to have you back, brother,” Switchblade said to Brick, then turned to Grim. “You bringing her around more often?”
Grim gave him a look that said watch it, but Switchblade only smirked, the kind of smirk only a younger vet could get away with.
“Relax,” Switchblade said quietly. “She’s good for you.”
Grim didn’t respond, but something in his chest tightened. Switchblade had served too, younger and greener but sharp. Loyal. The kind of kid Grim would’ve taken under his wing if life had gone differently.
Ghost elbowed Switchblade. “Told you he’d bring her tonight.”
Switchblade shrugged. “Man’s allowed to be happy.”
Grim shot him a glare that only made the kid grin wider.
Sophia leaned in. “They like teasing you.”
“They should like breathing more,” Grim muttered.
She laughed softly, and damn if that didn’t make the whole room feel less hostile.
Grim kept Sophia close, his hand steady on her back, guiding her through the crowd like she was something precious he wasn’t letting anyone touch.
He introduced her to a few members. They nodded respectfully, eyes flicking between her and Grim with something like approval or curiosity. Maybe both.
Then the sweetbutts approached.
Three of them. Pretty. Flirty. Moving like they owned the floor. Grim felt Sophia stiffen beside him, and he subtly shifted, angling his body closer to hers.
The blonde looked Sophia up and down, lips glossy, smile too bright. “So you’re the girl Grim’s been glued to lately.”
Sophia smiled politely. “I guess so.”
A brunette with a tattoo curling up her neck giggled. “Good luck. He doesn’t keep anyone. Trust me.”
Sophia’s brows lifted. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” the blonde said, leaning in. “He’s had… moments. But he never lets anyone stay. Too closed off. Too damaged. Too—”
Sophia stepped closer to Grim, sliding her hand into his, lacing their fingers together with deliberate calm.
“He’s off the market,” she said, voice steady. “So your opinions don’t matter.”
The room went quiet for a beat.
Grim froze.
The sweetbutts blinked, taken aback. They exchanged looks, then backed off with murmured comments, not angry, just surprised.
Grim’s hand tightened around hers, slow and deliberate, his thumb brushing over her knuckles like a vow.
“She’s with me,” he said, voice low enough to vibrate. “And that’s not changing.”
The room shifted, not loud or dramatic, just a ripple of understanding.
Grim didn’t look at the sweetbutts. He looked at Sophia.
And for the first time, he didn’t hide.
That’s when Brick let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”
Grim shot him a warning look, but the kid only grinned.
Grim leaned down, voice low, rough. “You didn’t have to stand up for me like that.”
Sophia’s fingers tightened around his. “I wasn’t standing up for you,” she said softly. “I was standing with you.”
His jaw flexed, not in anger but in something dangerously close to emotion. He squeezed her hand once, the only way he knew how to say what he felt.
He led her down the hallway, away from the noise, toward his room. He opened the door and let her step inside first.
Sophia looked around, taking in the space that belonged to him and only him. It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t empty. It was… him.
A neatly made bed. His worn leather jacket hanging on a hook. A small shelf with a few books, military history, survival manuals, and one battered paperback he never expected anyone to notice: The Old Man and the Sea.
A photo tucked into the mirror frame showed him with Stone and Havoc, younger, smiling, arms slung around each other like brothers.
Sophia touched the edge of the photo gently. “This is you.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
She turned to him, eyes soft. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
The air shifted, warm and charged and intimate. The kind of tension that hummed under the skin, that made the room feel smaller, that made every breath feel shared.
He’d stopped things the night before because she’d needed sleep. But now? Now she was looking at him like she knew exactly what she wanted.
Sophia stepped closer, her fingers brushing his chest. Grim inhaled sharply, his hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her.
She closed the distance.
Her palms slid up his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. His breath caught, warm against her forehead. His hands finally settled on her hips, firm yet gentle, thumbs tracing small, unconscious circles over the fabric of her shirt.
Sophia tilted her head, her lips brushing his in a kiss that started soft and exploratory, a question and a promise and a slow unraveling of everything he’d been holding back.
Grim responded slowly, his mouth moving against hers, deepening the contact as his fingers tightened just enough to draw her nearer. Their breaths mingled, soft exhales carrying the faint taste of peppermint on his tongue.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like a man built from broken pieces. He felt like a man being chosen.
“You sure?” he murmured, voice low.
She nodded, steady and certain.
His hands slid up her sides, palms rough from years of hard work, slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress the smooth warmth of her back.
She shivered at the contrast, arching slightly into him, and tugged at his shirt in return, pulling it free.
The fabric slid over his skin as it lifted, revealing the broad planes of his chest, marked by faint scars that her fingertips traced lightly, reverently, feeling the raised edges under her touch.
Grim paused, his forehead resting against hers, eyes dark and searching as he helped her discard the shirt. Then his fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse, each one undone with care, the soft clicks echoing in the quiet room.
The material parted, and he eased it from her shoulders, his gaze holding hers before drifting lower to the simple lace of her bra.
His breath hitched audibly as he reached behind her, unhooking it with a steady hand, letting it fall away.
She stood bare from the waist up before him, the cool air of the room raising faint goosebumps on her skin, but his touch chased them away—palms cupping her breasts gently, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until they tightened under his attention, a quiet gasp escaping her lips.
A soft sound came from her, muffled against his shoulder as she pressed closer, her hands exploring the ridges of his abdomen, dipping lower to the waistband of his jeans, fingers grazing the warmth there.
He groaned softly, the vibration rumbling through his chest, and captured her mouth again, the kiss turning hungrier yet still measured, tongues touching with a slow dance of discovery.
Together they fumbled with belts and zippers, the metallic rasp sharp in the hush, jeans pooling at their feet along with softer undergarments.
Sophia guided him onto the bed, the sheets cool against his heated skin as they settled together. Her hands roamed his chest with light fingers, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her palms.
His muscles tightened as she shifted lower, her lips brushing a path down his abdomen, warm and teasing, the soft scrape of her hair against his thighs drawing a low rumble from his chest.
She took him into her mouth slowly, enveloping him in wet heat, tongue swirling gently around the sensitive length.
His fingers threaded her hair, holding tenderly, without guiding. His hips lifted slightly into the rhythm, quiet groans escaping as tension coiled in his body.
After moments that stretched like eternity, she released him with a soft kiss, rising to straddle his lap. Her knees bracketing his hips against the mattress.
Their eyes locked, breaths shared in the charged air between them. Heavy with anticipation and the faint scent of arousal mingling with the room’s lingering trace of leather.
She reached down, guiding him to her entrance, slick and ready. She sank onto him gradually, a shared sigh breaking the quiet as he filled her completely.
Sophia rocked her hips slowly at first, hands braced on his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath her palms.
The slide of him deep inside creating exquisite friction with each motion.
Grim’s arms encircled her waist, protective and steady, pulling her close as he met her rhythm with gentle upward thrusts.
His hands roamed her back, fingers splaying wide to support her movements. Lips seeking her neck to press open-mouthed kisses along the curve, tasting the salt on her skin.
She quickened, grinding down with more urgency, breasts brushing his chest, sending sparks through them both, her breath turning to soft gasps.
Grim slid one hand between them, his finger finding her sensitive bud and circling it with firm, gentle pressure that matched her pace, building the tension higher.
The creak of the bedframe underscored their shared rhythm, the air thick with the intimate sounds of their joining.
Release crested for her first, pleasure rippling through in waves, as a quiet cry spilled from her lips. Her nails pressed lightly into his shoulders.
He followed moments later, spilling deep with a muffled groan against her throat, holding her tight through the shared tremors.
They collapsed together, breaths syncing in the aftermath, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along her spine. Sophia rested beside him, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her like he was afraid she’d disappear. His heartbeat thudded beneath her ear, steady and strong.
For the first time, the ghosts stayed silent. She was here. And she was his.