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She removed the lime slice from her mouth and shrugged. “I’m a biker bitch now. Mind your business.”
As Arbor grinned at her, his club brothers howled their laughter as they took seats around the room. “Is that right?”
“I’m your mate. You’re a biker. That makes me your biker bitch.”
He shifted behind her, and she saw his hands come down on the bartop on either side of her. In her ear, he whispered, “You may be mine, Kitten, but you’ll never be a biker bitch. A bikerqueen, absolutely.” He nosed aside the end of her braid and nipped the skin on the side of her neck. “You called yourself my mate.”
“I did,” she said and leaned back against him.
“That mean you’ve made a decision on whether you’re ready for that?”
She shrugged. “I think we have a bit more talking to do, so I know what to expect, but…” She turned around in the limited space his arms and body allowed her and faced him. Looking up into his eyes, she continued, “For the first time in my life, I’m following what my gut tells me. Being with you feels… right.”
“That’s because it is, Kitten.”
“So yeah, I made a decision.”
“So… you’ll have lessons on biker culture and lessons on shifter culture to make sure you have all the information you need.” He pecked her on the tip of her nose. “Biker culture lesson number one. When a biker meets someone who is meant for him, he claims her at the table during church. His brothers vote on it. If the vote passes, she becomes his Ol’ Lady.” When she raised a brow at the term and opened her mouth to speak, he put a finger to her lips. “And he becomes her Ol’ Man. It’s a term that means more than girlfriend or wife or woman. It also protects you from other clubs. Having that title tells them you are off limits. It’s about respect and honor. I just claimed you at the table, and the vote passed.”
“So I’m your Ol’ Lady.”
“And I’m your Ol’ Man.” He grinned down at her. “Your property patch will come soon. We have to order them.”
“Property patch?” She had no idea what the hell that meant.
He took hold of the front lapels of his leather vest with the club logo on it, which Arbor told her they called a cut and colors. It also had patches on the front that saidMemberandArbor. “It will look a lot like this but it will sayProperty of Arboron the back, and instead of this patch sayingMember,yours will sayArbor’s OL.”
She put her hands to her hips. “And how will all the bitches know you’re mine?”
“First of all, your name will be tattooed right here.” He pointed to the left side of his neck. “But we’ll talk more about that later. I will also add a patch to my cut that saysProperty of Kitten. Which brings us to biker culture lesson two. Road names.”
“Like Arbor instead of Ewan.”
He nodded. “Our Ol’ Ladies get Ol’ Lady names.”
“And I’m guessing mine is Kitten.”
He nodded again. “Because my Ol’ Lady may be sweet and soft, but she has claws.”
She couldn’t stop the grin from growing on her face. Arbor was quickly working his way under her skin and making himself home there. What surprised her the most was she didn’t mind one bit.
After some razzing from the men, Arbor took Megan’s hand and led her over to the tables. He introduced her to the rest of the club, and she was sure she would never remember all of their names. As she met each man, she became more and more convinced that something was in the water to make them that hot. She’d never seen so much eye candy in one place.
Being the only woman in the room was weird at first, but eventually, it began to feel like she was in a room full of her brothers. They teased her a bit, but they were never disrespectful or took things too far. They were rougher on Arbor, giving him shit for not having mated her yet, which brought up something she hadn’t thought about.
Were they all shifters?She made a mental note to ask Arbor about it later. She remembered that he mentioned something about shifter hearing and didn’t want to risk disrespecting any of them with the question.
Hours later, after having lunch and kicking ass in a game of poker with four of Arbor’s club brothers, Arbor led her out to his bike. When she reached for the helmet she wore on the way there, he put his hand over hers, stopping her. She looked up at him in question, but all thought was wiped away when his lips pressed against hers. As his arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against him, she held on tight to his shoulders and moaned. Arbor took that opportunity to make the kiss deeper, gliding his tongue inside her mouth and taking her breath away with the intensity of it. A fire of lust built in her gut as the world around them faded away. It was only the two of them, and that was how she wanted it. Who needed to breathe anyway?
When he pulled back to breathe, she asked, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”
Arbor nipped her bottom lip and gazed into her eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“The way you were with my brothers. The way you accept me. Just the way you are.” He kissed her again. “Thank you.”
“Backatcha,” she breathed against his lips.
