“What do you mean?”
“There’s an honor code of sorts. Clubs don’t go after Old Ladies or kids. The innocents stay innocent. That’s how we avoid total war between clubs. Shit can get settled between men, but no one fucks with family.”
“So theoretically, if I became your Old Lady, I’d be off limits?”
“Yup. Becoming an Old Lady is serious shit, Mia. To the brothers, it’s more binding than marriage. Marriage is a piece of paper. Marriage is an institution created by society that can be dissolved. Becoming an Old Lady is a way of life, so you gotta make sure you’re ready for it before you commit.”
I couldn’t eat another bite. I’d left a quarter of the enchiladas on the plate, which I pushed away. The moment I signaled I was done, Colt took my fork and ate the rest of my food.
The waitress came by and dropped off the check before flouncing back to the bar where she not so secretly watched Colt. He reached for his wallet and took out a few crisp bills.
It made me wonder if the money had come from his garage or from his criminal enterprises.
Shelly had warned me to stay away from motorcycle clubs. Colt might’ve been a criminal, but what did that say about me—the woman who was deciding whether or not to be with him?
I’d directly benefit from Colt’s business. I’d be taken care of financially, I wouldn’t have to worry about little luxuries, and I knew he wanted to pay for my last semester of college.
Colt could protect me, take care of me.
“Shoulda ordered you another margarita,” he muttered. “I can hear you thinking.”
“You can’t hear a person think,” I said with a dry laugh.
“All your thoughts are flashing across your face like a movie reel. I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking right this moment?” I taunted.
“You’re thinking about how much you want me inside you.”
My eyes widened.
He grinned wickedly. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No.”
“When your wrist is healed, I’m gonna get you on the back of my bike. There’s nothing like it, feels like you’re flying. Feels like freedom. I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. A tiny little town off the Oregon coast. We’ll rent side-by-sides and drive down to the beach and then watch the sunset.”
He took my hand that rested on the table and traced my ring finger. “I’ll take you back to a bed and breakfast I know. It’s a place that if you leave the windows open, you can smell the mist from the ocean. I’ll slide into you, Mia, and stay there until dawn.”
I swallowed at the shot of desire between my thighs.
“You’re not fighting fair,” I murmured.
“Who said anything about fair? You want me, yeah?”
“Yeah. I want you,” I admitted. “What about marriage?”
“What about marriage?”
“You called it an institution. A piece of paper.”
“It is,” he insisted. “But I’d still marry you. If you become my Old Lady you get the protection of my club. Then you become my wife and you’ve got the protection of my last name and the fact that you can’t legally be forced to testify against your husband in court if it ever comes to that.”
Practical as well as decisive. That was Colt. When he knew what he wanted, he went after it. But he thought things through. Wasn’t going to get caught up in emotion and let it rule him.
I was suddenly exhausted. It was like I’d been constantly swimming upstream, trying to get away from Colt and all that he made me feel. Trying to get away from Dev and the blanket of terror he’d thrown over my life.
I hadn’t even slept with Colt yet. Only this morning had things escalated to a physical level—and the man had been right. Not arrogant, just right. When I was in his bed, I wanted to stay there and I hadn’t even had him the way I wanted him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he rasped.
We got back to Colt’s house and it felt like I’d come home. Pairs of my shoes were by the door, haphazardly strewn like I’d kicked them off in haste.
My brain went into overdrive. There was a problem with overthinking just like there was a problem with following emotions. Unfortunately that meant I lived in a weird state of limbo.
Colt talked about marriage like it was nothing. He wasn’t gun shy. We hadn’t even slept together yet and he was tossing the word around like it was just a formality, which I guess for men in his world, it was.
He’d never said he loved me. But he was ready to make me his Old Lady.
“I have to make some calls,” Colt said, setting down his keys on the table in the front hallway. I placed my keys and phone next to his.
“Will you Saran-wrap my cast? I want to shower.”
We went into the kitchen and Colt pulled out the plastic wrap and a rubber band. He leaned down to peck me on the lips. “Shower in my bathroom.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the good bathroom. Trust me.”
After he wrapped my cast, I left him to his phone calls and headed upstairs. I gathered my toiletries and a clean towel and took them into Colt’s bedroom. The furniture was solid oak, the walls a soft dove gray. The bed was huge, big enough for Colt—and me. I shivered in anticipation. I knew what would happen when we finally got together. It would be explosive and dynamic. It would make me feel everything that I’d been missing from my life.
It would bind me to him in a way I’d never been bound to another person. It would make me emotionally vulnerable, something I hadn’t allowed myself since Grammie’s death.
The bathroom had a long white counter with a sink, and there was a separate glass shower from a Jacuzzi tub. I envisioned us in that tub, surrounded by candles and bubbles.
I turned on the water in the shower, waiting for it to heat. It steamed up quickly and the water pressure was strong. I let it rain down on me, closing my eyes and turning my face into it. Halfway through washing my hair, I heard a quick knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
“How’s it going in there?” he asked.
“Going,” I replied.
“Was I right? About my bathroom being better than the guest one?”
“Maybe. I thought you had calls to make,” I replied.
“I finished them.”
He waited.
I knew what he was waiting for.
“You’re killing me here.”
I inhaled a shaky breath. “You’re welcome to join me.”
I heard the thump of his boots and didn’t bother holding back a smile. A moment later, there was a cold draft of air as Colt stepped inside behind me. I turned around so I could look at him. Ink covered his tan arms, but I hardly noticed the work as my eyes drifted lower, taking in his size and breadth. Though we’d been in bed just this morning and things had happened between us, seeing him in all his nude glory was different.
He could see me, too.
All the teasing and flirting was absent. The desire that been on a simmer was now cranked up to a rolling boil.
But before I could say anything, Colt said, “Turn around.”
I did as he commanded. His hand skated up my side and the curve of my waist until he got to my neck. He brushed my wet hair off my back and trailed a finger across my shoulder blades and down my spine.