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“You okay, sweetheart?” Bennett murmured in my ear as we walked into the clubhouse for Christmas dinner.
He hadn’t so much as raised his brows as we pulled up to the biker compound with barbed wire on top of the gates, security cameras and a parking lot full of Harleys.
“I’m fine,” I squeaked, his hand warm and dry in my own.
My heart was thundering in my chest, and my own palm was not dry at all.
Mom looked around from where she and Swiss were walking, heading into the building first. My brother was strapped to Swiss’s chest. Yes, he walked around with a baby strapped to him without shame. He really pulled it off.
My mother’s brows furrowed. “Did you just squeak?” she asked with a grin.
I poked my tongue out at her and focused on Bennett. I looked at his kind blue eyes, the softness of his smile, the clear affection and concern in his gaze. He liked me. And I did not deserve him.
This was a big fucking mistake. It was too late to call it off. But I could recommit to making it work with a decent boy who wouldn’t fuck me up and cause huge drama with the family I’d come to love.
We stopped just inside to sounds of laughter, muted rock music, the clang of glasses and the low rumble of alpha male conversations.
I made sure not to look around the room and instead focused on Bennett.
I reached up to straighten the collar of his shirt. Yeah, he wore a collared shirt to Christmas dinner at an outlaw motorcycle club. I’d had to tell him to take off the salmon-colored tie he’d paired with his sensible, expensive shirt, slacks and loafers.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, smoothing imaginary wrinkles on his shirt. “We can just go back to Mom’s house, watch Christmas movies and raid the liquor cabinet?” I asked hopefully.
Bennett grasped gently—so gently it infuriated me—onto my wrists, pulling them upward so he could kiss them.
I forced my body not to stiffen under his touch.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured.
Ugh, I fucking hated that endearment.
“Although this definitely isn’t like any Christmas dinner I’ve attended,” he continued, thankfully unaware of the vague disgust I was feeling at the prospect of being his girlfriend and having those lips on me for a prolonged amount of time.
His eyes skimmed the room behind me, the one I was too cowardly to look at yet. “Definitelynot like any Christmas dinner,” he repeated with a grin. “But I’m so glad to be here. Even if your stepfather does scare the shit out of me,” he joked.
I forced out a weak smile. “He’s all bark and no bite,” I reassured him.
He sagged with relief. “Really?”
I bit my lip. “Really,” I lied. “Same with all the guys here. They’re all teddy bears really. Just overprotective.”
Another lie. A big one. If I really wanted him to leave, I could’ve just told him that every man here would happily bury him where he’d never be found if he hurt me in any way.
Bennett leaned in to kiss my head. I restrained a wince. “Well, I’m glad that you’ve got people looking out for you.”
My eyes squeezed shut and I breathed through his overpowering cologne, wishing to have a more positive response to him.
But when I forced my eyes open, I found the response I’d been chasing. My entire body caught fire. My heart stuttered. Breathing shallow. White hot desire burned through my clothes.
Elden was not in the main room with everyone else, toasting, snacking, talking. No. He’d just walked in the door. The door we were basically blocking with this cringeworthy embrace.
And he was pissed.
Really fucking pissed.
His cheeks turned red with fury, his eyes darkened with a kind of fury that seemed to shadow the entire room.
His eyes left mine for a millisecond, scanning the room behind me … for what, I didn’t know. But seconds later, I figured out he’d been looking to see if Swiss was paying attention to this part of the room. Otherwise, Elden wouldn’t have been able to do what he did.
