Page 49 of Contracted to the Bikers

“I can’t,” I say, my voice thick.

Sloane’s expression shifts. “Boone—”

“I can’t do this right now.” I turn and walk away without looking back. If I stay, I’m going to say something I regret. I might ruin this beautiful, fragile thing we all share, I might lose my friends and the only woman I’ve ever loved.

I don’t go far. I slip outside, in search of air and space, in need of clarity. The night is cool, the distant hum of the world continuing as if nothing has changed. I lean against the wall and close my eyes, breathing deeply. I haven’t smoked in years, but I could sure use one now.

I try using the meditation techniques my therapist showed me, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.

I hear her soft footsteps approaching, and I don’t need to look to know it’s her. “Sloane.”

She stops beside me, standing close but not touching me. She hesitates, as if worried I’ll push her away, as if I could ever do that. Then her hand finds mine, warm and steady.

“I meant what I said,” she murmurs.

“I know. So did I.”

She speaks slowly, carefully considering her words. “I understand why you’re angry. Rook and Cruz do too; they feel terrible.”

I huff a quiet breath. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” she agrees. “But it matters.”

She moves closer. “You were the one who followed me,” she says softly. “The one who saved me. The one who has kept me safe this whole time.”

I don’t answer. I don’t trust my voice.

“And Jessy,” she continues. “She trusts you. So do I.”

I look at her, wondering how I got so lucky to have this woman, this family. I never want to break that trust. I don’t want to lose them, but I know that Sloane and Jessy aren’t the only two people in this package deal. She won’t let go of Rook and Cruz, and I won’t ask her to.

“I don’t know how to forgive them,” I admit.

“You don’t need to,” she says. “Not yet. But you will eventually.” She says this with such certainty, I believe her.

Her hand slides up my chest, resting over my heart. “But don’t shut me out,” she breathes.

I exhale slowly, pulling her closer. I couldn’t let her go now if I tried. The kiss is different from other times, no hunger or pure sexual energy that comes with all of us being together. It’s slow, grounding, as if we’re both trying to find something steady in the middle of chaos.

Her fingers curl into my shirt, mine settle at her waist. My lips capture hers, the kiss growing deeper, more frantic, more desperate. I need this. We need this. I need to be with Sloane alone, to have a moment that’s just ours.

In the darkness of the shadows, tucked around the corner of the clubhouse where anyone who strolled down this way could catch us, we make out like horny teens. Sloane fumbles with my belt, slipping her hand down my pants and stroking my cock. It hardens quickly under her touch, the risk of getting caught only heightening my arousal. I bury my face in her neck, kissing her, breathing her in.

My hand slides down her thigh, lifting it, feeling the smoothness of her skin. I trail my fingers up under her skirt, feeling how wet she is through the lace of her panties. My cock strains harder. Pushing her panties to one side, I slip a finger in her, cock twitching in response to the moan that slips from her lips. My fingers slide in and out of her, feeling how she grows wetter, responding to my touch.

“Boone,” she murmurs, biting her lip.

I kiss her again, needing more, wanting more. Her hand works faster up and down my shaft, and my fingers do too. She’s so fucking wet. I know we should stop, that we should at least go inside somewhere more private, but we can’t stop, not now, even if the entire club came outside to watch.

“Fuck me,” Sloane whispers in my ear, pressing tight against me.

Her words break the little self-control I was clinging to. Her panties tear like tissue paper as I rip them off her, too impatient to remove them properly. Sloane gasps, but I see only arousal and excitement in her eyes. I lift her with ease, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I press her against the cool concrete wall. We continue to kiss as she pulls my cock free from my pants. I thrust inside her in one swift motion, and she cries out into my shoulder, biting down enough to pinch.

Like a man possessed, I fuck her hard and fast up against the wall. It’s totally different from every other time we’ve been together, raw, animalistic. I’ve lost all control, all concern that I need to be gentle.

“Fuck, yes, Boone,” Sloane pants, egging me on.

I grip her ass, bouncing her up and down on my cock, tongue intertwining with hers. The sound of the clubhouse, of music and laughter, drifts out into the parking lot. Then everything melts away, and the only thing I can hear is Sloane’s breathy moans of encouragement, saying my name and my name alone.