Chapter 20 #2
Lunch settles into a lazy, sun-drenched lull. The poolside table is scattered with empty plates and half-finished drinks. Everyone’s loud and full and pretending there isn’t a goddamn war brewing just under the surface of every glance.
Sawyer’s lounging in the chair across from me, still in that black swimsuit that’s been testing every shred of restraint I’ve got. The straps hug her like they were made to be undone by my fingers, and I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she sounded moaning Riot’s name last night.
But I’m not mad.
I’m just done waiting around, acting like an afterthought in her orbit. Done pretending I’m not losing it every damn second she’s near me.
I stand, stretching out every coil of tension in my body, and tilt my head toward the garage. “Come on, Sin. Let me show you my bikes.”
Her eyes light up, curiosity flaring as she sits up straighter. “You have bikes?”
I smirk, letting the challenge show. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.”
She tosses her towel aside and follows, her steps quick, unafraid.
We barely cross the gravel before footsteps echo behind us—loud, loose, familiar.
Of course. Riot.
“Yo,” he calls, all effortless swagger, like he’s just part of the scenery. “Mind if I take one out too?”
My jaw ticks, but I don’t stop moving.
He falls in next to her, flashing that lazy smile like he owns the place.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let you have your time, Reign,” he says, flicking his chin at me, but his gaze goes right back to Sawyer—lingering on the curve of her hips in that suit.
“But you know I’m not missing the chance to see you with a helmet on. ”
She just laughs softly, rolling her eyes, but I notice a little pink rising in her cheeks.
I roll my own eyes and unlock the garage doors, shoving them open so hard they groan on their hinges. The smell of oil and rubber rolls out, grounding me. Inside, my matte black Ducati sits under the skylight, gleaming like a weapon asleep in the dark.
Her gasp is quiet but honest. “Whoa.”
“That one’s mine,” I say, brushing dust off the seat like I’m showing her a part of myself. “Street legal. Fast as hell. Smooth as sin.”
Riot whistles low, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Damn, Reign. Didn’t know you had taste.”
I shoot him a look, sharp and warning. “Are you riding or watching?”
He grins, all teeth. “Depends. You gonna let her wrap those pretty legs around me, too?”
Sawyer groans, rolling her eyes. She walks toward the bike, cutting the tension like she can’t stand it either. “Can I ride with you?” she asks, her voice small but sure. She looks up at me, blue eyes wide. “I’ve never been on one before.”
I nod once. “Helmet’s on the shelf. Along with some jeans and a tank top for you.”
I glance back at Riot, giving him a look that says I dare you. “You can take the Yamaha. Just don’t wreck it.”
He gives me a two-fingered salute, grinning like the devil. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Sawyer climbs onto the back of my bike, her arms sliding around my waist, legs hugging my hips like she was always meant to be there. Riot’s here, sure. He’s watching, soaking it all in.
But right now?
She’s holding me.
And I’m about to make damn sure she feels it. Every. Single. Mile.
I rev the engine, feeling her grip tighten, and lean back just enough to murmur, “Hold on, Little Demon.”
Her breath shudders against my neck, and for one perfect second, nothing else matters—not Riot’s eyes, not the past, not even the burn of jealousy. Just the road, the rumble, and her wrapped around me.
Let him watch.
This moment? This one’s mine.
RIOT
The engine between my thighs roars like it knows what I’m thinking.
She’s on the back of his bike. Arms wrapped tight around his waist, hair whipping behind her like a goddamn banner—his banner. And I’m behind them on the road, following, the wind doing jack shit to cool the fire crawling under my skin.
She looks good on the back of a bike. Like she belongs to the chaos of it. Like she was born for this reckless, dangerous rhythm.
But it’s not my bike she’s clinging to.
I watch the way she leans into Jasper’s back, the trust in her body language. The way she laughs when he takes a sharp curve and she has to hold on tighter. And I wonder—how long has it been since she felt that free? That fearless?
I could give her that.
In a different way.
I downshift, letting the Yamaha eat a little more road so I can close the distance. Not enough to be beside them. Just enough to make sure he knows I’m still here.
That she remembers I’m still here.
Her head turns—just slightly—and I catch a glimpse of her smile over her shoulder. She knows I’m watching.
I shoot her a wink before speeding up and blowing past them, giving the throttle hell. The engine howls, and Jasper flips me off as I fly by.
Yeah, I’ll let him have his moment.
But I’m not fucking done.
SAWYER
The wind whips against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling inside my chest.
Jasper’s solid beneath me—steady hands, smooth control, like he was built to ride. I hold tighter when he takes a curve, the leather of his jacket warm beneath my fingers, the scent of him grounding me like gravity.
But it’s not just him, I feel.
It’s Riot—his presence like static electricity in the air, lingering even before I see him.
When he blows past us, reckless and grinning, it’s like lightning cracking open the blue sky. He shoots me a wink before he guns the throttle and disappears up the road.
I can’t stop my smile. Can’t stop the little ache that pulses in my chest because I want to be on his bike just as much.
Jasper flips him off with one hand, and I laugh into his back. For a minute, it’s easy and light. But my head is a mess of want, guilt, and possibility.
Riot’s under my skin. Jasper’s in my bones. I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend this isn’t going to break all of us wide open.
When we pull off at a scenic overlook—crumbling guardrail, wildflowers, sun painting everything gold—Jasper plants his boot on the pavement and turns to look at me over his shoulder, eyes dark and searching.
“You okay, baby?”
His voice is gentler than I expected. I nod, but my heart is thundering. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
He studies me—sees right through every lie, every deflection, every secret bruise in my soul. His hand cups my thigh, grounding me, thumb stroking the inside like a promise.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, rough but real.
Before I can say anything, Jasper shifts on his seat and grabs my waist and in one smooth pull, he swings me around to his front to face him, like I was made for this position.
“That’s better, now I can see you, Little Sin.” His gaze rakes over me, lingering on every detail like he’s memorizing me. “You know,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything look better on this bike than you.”
His hands slide up my thighs, fingers pressing into the denim, making me ache for more. His touch stops at my waist, thumbs stroking circles just under the hem of my tank top.
“That top,” he drawls, eyes glinting, “those jeans hugging your ass like they’re begging to be peeled off…
fuck, baby, you’re gonna kill me. Not to mention my jacket wrapped around your body…
” He slides a hand up, fingers tracing the strap of my helmet along my jaw.
“And this?” He taps the helmet as he leans in.
“Mine too. Looks so fucking good on you, baby.”
I bite my lip, fighting a grin, but my cheeks are flaming. His fingers hook in my belt loops, dragging me just a little closer.
“I wanna see you riding me in nothing but this jacket one night,” he whispers. “Nothing else. Just you, dripping for me, moaning my name.”
I whimper, unable to hide it. His hands squeeze my ass, and my heart is a runaway freight train. My skin’s on fire everywhere he touches.
But before either of us can act on anything—
The distant roar of Riot’s engine echoes as he carves back down the road toward us.
Jasper’s eyes never leave mine.
“Let him take his ride. I’ve already got everything I want sitting right here.”
Riot skids to a stop beside us, tires kicking up a swirl of dust that settles in the sunlight like a warning. He’s all swagger—helmet half off, sweat-dark hair falling wild, eyes laser-focused on where Jasper’s hands are staking their claim on me.
“If you’re gonna get frisky with her out here,” Riot calls, voice lazy and teasing, “at least drag her into the trees so the rest of us don’t die of blue balls, yeah?”
He winks at me, flips his helmet back on, and revs his bike again like he’s daring us to give the woods a show—taking off like a devil with a head start.
Jasper watches Riot’s dust trail vanish, then turns his gaze back on me—heavy with hunger, heat simmering behind every ounce of restraint.
“If I wanted to take you in front of the whole goddamn world,” he murmurs, voice gravel-dark and sinful, “I would. No shame in showing people who you belong to.”
Before I can say anything, he pulls me up, sliding me over the seat until I’m straddling his lap. My ass is flush against the bulge straining in his jeans, legs caging his hips, every part of me trembling.
And I feel him. Every thick, impossible inch.
He wants me to know. Wants me to ache.
He leans in, breath warm at my ear. “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. Just by breathing. You wanna ride, or do you want to come right here?”
My pulse pounds everywhere. I’m dizzy with need.
Jasper’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me there. His other hand grips the throttle, but it’s not the only thing he’s about to unleash.
Then, with zero warning, the bike roars to life beneath us.
I yelp, hands flying to his chest, clutching the leather like a lifeline. “Jasper, no—!”
“Relax.” His low laugh vibrates through my bones. “I’ve got you. Always.”
He does. He owns me. The bike surges forward, wind tearing at my hair and jacket, but he keeps me pinned tight—his body an anchor and a furnace.