I hurry out of the dining room and down the long, wide hallway to the ladies’ room. It’s the size of a locker room—and even has a row of lockers to the left for club girls to leave their stuff. One row even houses a bunch of girly products for everyone to use. At one time, I thought that was such a thoughtful thing to do.
As soon as I step out, I run smack into a brick wall.
Nope, back up. I crane my neck. The brick wall is Wrath.
I can’t think of any reason he shouldn’t like me, but he’s still scary as hell. “I—uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s all right. Where you rushing off to?”
I gesture toward the dining room. “Kitchen. Your wife has me frosting cakes.”
“Gray just went down there looking for you.” His crinkled brow softens. “How’s it going with you two?”
I blink, unsure of his intention. He can’t possibly want to stand here and dish about my love life. “Good, I think.”
“He tried to choke out a brother. Has to be more than good.”
Heat singes my cheeks. Damn it. He’s so damn big, taking up so much space, and I can’t easily get away. “I like him a lot.”
“Like, huh?” he mutters. “I think he’s feelin’ more than like for you.”
“Well, that’s really between me and Grayson,” I snap, tired of overgrown men pushing me around.
He chuckles. “That’s good. Keep that energy.”
“What?”
“If you’re gonna be his old lady, you can’t take shit from any of us.”
Is he out of his mind? “Women don’t mouth off to bikers.”
“They don’t mouth off. They stand up for themselves.” He cocks his head. “Trin always said you were loyal to the club but mousy.”
Trinity mentioned me to her husband? When? Why?
“That won’t fly being Grinder’s ol’ lady,” he continues. “Find your spine. Reinforce it with some steel.” He glances away, and it’s a relief not to be under his burning stare for a second. “Hope’ll probably take you under her wing. Guys are scared of her anyway.”
“They’re scared of Hope?”
“They’re scared of Rock murdering them if they disrespect her,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” I’m so nervous, I’m trying to remember everything he says to examine later when I’m not half a second away from peeing my pants. “You really care about Gray, don’t you?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
“You go way back?”
“All the way to when I was a lowly hangaround.”
“Wow, here I always imagined you were born wearing that cut.” I nod to his SAA patch.
His mouth quirks. Glad I could amuse him.
Feeling a little braver, I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance. “You don’t have any opinions, like Steer did?”
“Nope. Not my business. As long as my brother’s happy, that’s all I’m worried about. He’s been through a lot.”
Who knew the brutal enforcer had so much love and concern in his heart?
“He did time for his club, Serena. No one takes that sacrifice lightly. All of us want to do what we can to make up for all he’s lost.”
I swallow hard and nod.
“I’m pissed his P.O. is giving him a hard time. That shoulda been handled,” he mutters. “I know Gray ain’t gonna tell us if he gets hassled again. So if you hear anything, let me know.”
This feels like a test I’m woefully under-prepared for. “I can’t go behind Gray’s back,” I finally say. The club doesn’t respect snitches, right? Which choice is Wrath hoping I’ll make here? Stay loyal to Grayson and not spill his secrets? Or be loyal to the club who’s looking out for Gray’s interests?
All of the above?
Or none?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Serena
Sunlight stabs me in the eyes way too early.
But I finally have my wish—I’m waking next to Grayson.
He’s a big man. Takes up a lot of space. I wiggle closer, luxuriating in his warmth. The hard lines of his face are softened by sleep. He almost looks vulnerable—my own lost king, who can only be woken by my kiss. My heart squeezes as his chest rises and falls, steady and constant—almost hypnotizing.
Sometime later, I wake again.
Grayson’s rough hands roam over my body in lazy, exploratory circles. I don’t think he stopped touching me the entire trip home from the clubhouse, then all night long. Gentle, reverent caresses. Soft kisses and tickles of his beard whispering over my skin.
In a way, the truth set us free.
At the moment, he seems fascinated with the small of my back. I stretch out on my stomach next to him and hum while he skims his palm over my rear end, then traces his fingers along my spine and pushes my hair aside to kiss my shoulder.
“Mmmm,” I mumble without opening my eyes.
“How are you so perfect?” He clutches my hip, my butt, then down to my thighs. “Like you were made just for me.”
Those words strike something deep in me. I’ve never felt good enough for anyone. Emotion burns my eyes and squeezes my throat.