Page 54 of North’s Claim

Even if the thought of telling him thank you makes my chest ache in ways I don’t have words for.

When the door opens, I jump a little. He steps inside, his eyes flick over the table and that smirk tugs at his mouth. Not the smug, I’ve got you cornered one. The softer one. The one that’s dangerous because it feels like it sees too much.

“You filling them out?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, chewing the inside of my cheek. “But they need a real name. Yours.”

His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s weighing something. Then he leans against the counter, arms crossed, and says, “Vincent. Vincent Addare.”

I repeat it under my breath, letting it roll on my tongue. Vincent. It fits him, sharp and solid, but somehow softer than North. “I like it.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he looks away. “Use it. Makes it official.”

I nod, but the guilt gnaws at me until I blurt, “It’s a loan. I’ll pay you back.”

The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk that says he doesn’t believe me for a second. “Sure you will, Firefly.”

“I mean it, Vince,” I press, and my chest does a strange little flip at the way he watches me when I say it. Oh, shit.

He steps closer, palms braced on either side of my chair, crowding into my space until my heartbeat is a drumline in my ears. “And I’m serious when I say you’re not paying me back.”

I try to glare. It comes out more like a pout. “You can’t just…”

“Yeah, I can.” His voice dips, final, and then he straightens. “C’mon. Grab your jacket.”

“What? Why?”

“Need to clear my head. We’re going for a ride.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the back of his bike, arms wrapped tight around his waist. The engine’s deep rumble settles somewhere low in my stomach, a constant vibration that makes it impossible not to melt against him.

The wind whips my hair into tangles, stings my cheeks, and steals every thought except one: I could stay like this forever.

He’s different tonight. His hand leaves the throttle more than once to skim down my thigh, fingers splayed warm and possessive through my leggings. Once, he runs his knuckles up the inside of my arm, slow enough that goosebumps explode across my skin.

By the time we pull off onto a dirt track and wind through a tunnel of trees, I’m practically humming from the mix of adrenaline and something a hell of a lot more dangerous.

We stop in a small clearing lit only by moonlight. There’s a bluff at the edge, the whole city sprawling below like a bed of fallen stars.

I swing off the bike, helmet in hand, and just… stare. “This is beautiful.”

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. “Come here when I need to shut the world out.”

It’s not lost on me what it means for him to bring me here. This isn’t the bar, or the clubhouse, or even the house. This is his.

I step closer and tug lightly at the leather of his cut, testing the boundary.

His brow cocks. “You trying to steal this off me?”

“Maybe.” My voice is lighter than I feel.

He stares for a beat, then leans in. The kiss is unhurried but deep, the kind that drags the breath right out of your lungs. His hand slides up my spine, anchoring me in place like he’s not ready to let me go.

And for once, I’m not afraid of that.

The night is still. Too still.

The engine’s off, but I swear I can still feel the hum of it under me, or maybe it’s just him. North’s body is all heat and control, caging me where I straddle his bike, the moonlight catching the hard lines of his jaw.