Page 25 of My Enemy Biker

He looks at me finally. "And you're choosing this anyway."

Not a question but I answer it. "Yes."

He lifts our joined hands, kisses my bruised knuckles where I scraped them on something yesterday I can't even remember now.

We sit there as the sun comes up. Not talking. Just existing in the same space, drinking coffee, holding hands.

Eventually he'll leave. Go back to the clubhouse, run his trap, handle his business. Eventually I'll have to think about what allof this means, what I'm agreeing to, what I've already agreed to without saying it out loud.

But right now, in the early morning quiet with his hand warm in mine, I let myself just be here.

Choosing him.

Choosing this.

Whatever comes next, I'm in it.

Chapter 7 — Cain

The coffee's still warm in my hand when she comes out dressed for the day.

Jeans, t-shirt, hair pulled back tight. She looks at me on her back porch and something in her expression goes determined.

"I'm coming with you."

I process that. The clubhouse means brothers seeing her with me. They'll understand immediately what it means. "You know what that signals."

"I know." No hesitation. "They'll think I'm yours."

"They'll be right."

Her eyes don't leave mine. "Then we don't have a problem."

Twenty minutes later she's standing beside my bike while I run through the basics.

Arms around my waist, not my shoulders. Follow my body through turns, don't fight the lean. Something feels wrong, squeeze my ribs twice.

She listens like she's memorizing instructions for a test. Climbs on behind me without hesitating.

Her arms wrap around my waist, thighs bracket my hips, breasts press against my back. Every point of contact registers. Not just sexually, though that's there. This is something else. She's trusting me with her safety at seventy miles an hour on two wheels.

I start the engine, and her arms tighten.

The ride takes sixteen minutes, and I feel her the entire time. How she moves with me through turns like she's been doing this for months instead of minutes. How her grip stays firm without panic. How her weight settles against me in a way that makes sense.

By the time I pull into the clubhouse lot I've already decided. She's not temporary. Whatever this is between us, I'm keeping it.

Tate's outside working on his Dyna. Holt's on the porch with coffee. Diesel's leaning against the railing talking to someone inside. All three see us the moment the engine cuts.

See her.

She doesn't move right away, probably getting her legs back under her.

When she slides off her hand braces on my shoulder for balance and every brother watching clocks that familiarity. That easy touch.

Tate catches my eye. Raises an eyebrow. I give him nothing.

Clint appears in the doorway. Takes in Anna, takes in me. Nods once. Approval and acceptance in a single gesture.