Chapter 17
Two days after Wayne Messer burned.
Ivy stood at the window of her compound room, watching the evening settle over the mountains like a blanket being drawn across the sky.
Mae was down the hall with Diana, the girls having demanded a sleepover with the ferocity only five-year-olds could muster.
Rachel had laughed and agreed, shooing Ivy away with knowing eyes.
Go be with your man. We've got this.
Her man.
The words settled into her chest, warm and permanent.
A knock at the door. Soft, familiar.
"It's open."
Splinter stepped inside, and something in her unwound at the sight of him. He'd showered—she could smell the soap from across the room—and changed into clean clothes, the leather cut absent for once. Just a man. Her man.
"Mae's settled?"
"For the night. Diana's mom has it handled." Ivy turned from the window. "I think Rachel knows exactly what she's doing, giving us this time."
"Old ladies look out for each other." He crossed the room to her, stopping close enough that she could feel his warmth. "You okay?"
"I don't know." The honesty surprised her. "I watched a man die two nights ago. I asked for it. And I feel... nothing. No guilt, no horror, no second-guessing. Just relief that he can't hurt Mae anymore."
"That's not nothing." Splinter's hand came up to cup her face. "That's a mother protecting her child. You feel exactly what you should feel."
"Is that what you felt? All those times you—" She stopped, not sure how to finish the question.
"Sometimes." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "Sometimes it's relief. Sometimes it's satisfaction. Sometimes it's just emptiness, and you fill it with whatever you can find." His eyes held hers. "But I've never felt wrong about protecting what's mine. And neither should you."
What's mine.
The words sparked something in her chest—not heat this time, but warmth. Belonging.
"Stay tonight," she said. "Not because of adrenaline or fear or anything else. Just because I want you here."
"You sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything."
He didn't kiss her right away.
Instead, he took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling her to stand between his knees. His hands rested on her hips, thumbs tracing circles through the thin fabric of her shirt while he looked up at her with an expression that made her breath catch.
"I keep thinking about the future," she murmured.
"Yeah?"
"What it looks like. Where we'll be. Whether this—" She gestured vaguely at the room, the compound, everything around them. "Whether this is permanent or temporary."
"What do you want it to be?"
"Permanent." The word came out steady, sure. "I want this life. The club, the compound, the family we're building. I want Mae to grow up with Diana and the other kids. I want to rebuild the diner and know it's protected. I want—" Her voice caught. "I want you. Every day. For however long I get."
"That's a lot of wanting."
"Too much?"
"Not enough." His hands slid under her shirt, palms warm against her bare skin. "I want the same things. All of them. More than I've ever wanted anything."
"Even the diner?"
"Especially the diner." He lifted her shirt slowly, revealing her inch by inch, his eyes tracking every bit of exposed skin like he was memorizing her.
"I want to help you rebuild it. I want to sit in that corner booth and watch Mae color while you pour coffee.
I want to build shelves and fix the things that break and be the man you come home to at the end of every shift. "
"That sounds like a proposal."
"Maybe it is."
Her breath caught. "Arlo..."
The sound of his real name changed something in the room. Shifted the air, thickened it with meaning. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, then reached behind her to unclasp her bra with practiced ease.
"I want to claim you," he said quietly, cupping her bare breasts in his calloused hands. "Officially. In front of the brotherhood and anyone else who needs to know. I want you to wear my patch and carry my name and never wonder again whether I'm staying or going."
"Is that how it works? A claiming?"
"It's how it works for us." His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and she shivered at the sensation.
"The club doesn't do traditional. No church, no certificate, no legal paperwork.
Just a ceremony where I declare you mine in front of everyone who matters, and you accept or refuse. That's it. That's the whole thing."
"And if I accept?"
"Then you're my old lady. Protected by every brother in this club. Part of the family in every way that counts." His voice dropped as he rolled her nipples between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to her core. "Mine. Forever. Or as close to forever as we can get."
Ivy reached down and cupped his face, tilting it up to meet her gaze. "You're asking me to marry you. In your own way."
"I'm asking you to be my family. Officially.
Permanently." He turned his head, pressed a kiss to her palm, then drew her finger into his mouth and sucked.
The wet heat made her gasp. "I know it's fast. I know we haven't known each other long.
But I also know that nothing in my life has ever felt as right as you and Mae.
Nothing has ever made me want to stay in one place, build something real, plan for tomorrow instead of just surviving today. "
"I don't need time to think about it."
"No?"
"No." She pulled her finger free and replaced it with her mouth, kissing him deeply, pouring everything she felt into the connection. "Yes," she whispered against his lips. "I accept. I want to be claimed. I want to be yours, officially, in front of everyone who matters."
He groaned—relief and want and something deeper—and pulled her down onto his lap.
She straddled him, feeling the hard ridge of his erection pressing against her core through layers of fabric. His mouth found her throat, teeth scraping, tongue soothing, while his hands worked at the button of her jeans.
"Need these off."
"Then take them off."
He lifted her easily, laying her back on the bed and stripping her jeans and underwear down her legs in one smooth motion. Before she could reach for him, he was kneeling between her thighs, spreading her open with his thumbs.
"Christ." He stared at her exposed cunt with naked hunger. "Every time I see you like this, I can't believe you're real."
"I'm real." She reached for him. "Come prove it."
"Not yet." He lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. "Want to taste you first. Want to make you come on my tongue before I slide inside you."
His mouth found her center, and Ivy's back arched off the bed.
He ate her like a man with nowhere else to be—slow, thorough, devastating. His tongue traced every fold, dipped inside her entrance, circled her clit with maddening precision. He knew her body now, knew exactly what she liked, and he used that knowledge to drive her to the edge and keep her there.
"Please." She was trembling, her thighs shaking around his head. "Arlo, please, I need—"
"I know what you need." He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked while sliding two fingers inside her, curling them against her front wall. The dual sensation was overwhelming.
"Oh God—right there—don't stop—"
He didn't stop.
He worked her with his mouth and his fingers until she shattered, orgasm crashing through her in waves that left her gasping and clutching at the sheets. He gentled her through it, tongue lapping softly at her sensitive flesh, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure.
"Beautiful," he murmured against her thigh. "So fucking beautiful when you come."
He rose to his feet and stripped off his clothes while she watched through heavy-lidded eyes.
His cock stood thick and hard against his stomach, flushed dark with arousal. She'd seen him naked before, had memorized every inch of him, but the sight still made her mouth water.
"Come here," she said, reaching for him.
He crawled over her, settling between her thighs, the head of his cock nudging against her slick entrance. But he didn't push inside—not yet. Instead, he braced himself on one arm and cupped her face with his other hand.
"I love you."
The words slipped out—simple, honest, profound.
"I love you too." She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "I love who you are and who you're becoming. I love how you are with Mae. I love that you built her a zoo and promised her things would be okay and kept every promise you ever made."
"Ivy—"
"I love that you see me. Not the diner owner or the single mom or the woman in trouble. Just me. Ivy. And you love me anyway."
"Not anyway." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Because. I love you because of all those things. Because you're strong enough to raise a daughter alone and stubborn enough to fight for your grandmother's legacy and brave enough to let me in when every instinct told you to stay closed off."
"Arlo—"
"I love you," he said again, and then he pushed inside her.
The stretch of him filling her felt like coming home.
He sank into her slowly, inch by inch, letting her feel every bit of him. When he was buried to the hilt, he paused, his forehead pressed to hers, their breath mingling.
"This is where I belong," he whispered. "Inside you. With you. Building a life with you."
"Then stay." She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "Stay forever."
"That's the plan."
He began to move—slow, deep strokes that made her feel every ridge of his cock dragging against her sensitive walls. This wasn't the desperate fucking of their post-combat encounter. This was something else. Something deliberate and tender and infinitely more devastating.
"Look at me," he said.
She opened her eyes.