I more than liked it. I more than liked him. The thought was sudden, and terrifying, and I pushed it down, focusing instead on the lazy-good sensation of his cock rocking against mine. I felt high on the closeness, and desperate for more. And it’d never felt so easy—never felt so easy to run right up to the brink of an orgasm simply from rutting against him like a teenager. Yet that was exactly what was happening, the incredible swirl of pleasure growing and growing like a rising tide. But there was no urgency in it, just a comfortable inevitability.
“Kiss me,” Nix demanded, and how could I say no to that? I captured his lips in a wet, sloppy kiss, then finally slid one hand under the waistband of his sweatpants to grip his ass skin-to-skin.
Nix gasped, and then the slow rocking of his hips increased to a more frantic pace. He thrust against me hard, enough to rock the bed beneath us, and then froze in my arms with his cock against my hip. He came with a gasp into my mouth, and the warm heat of his release spread through his sweatpants and onto me, too.
He was so fucking sexy when he came, gasping into the kiss, and knowing I was the one who did that was enough to push me over the edge, too. I cupped his ass hard with both hands and pulled him against me as I rocked my hips against him once, twice, then shuddered as my orgasm rolled over me, slow and delicious like honey. I held him close as I came, not kissing so much as exchanging breath through our connected mouths, just desperate for as much contact I could get.
“Hm,” Nix hummed, rolling off me with a smile, but still staying close enough to drop a kiss onto my bare shoulder. “I need to change my shorts.”
“Me too,” I said with a grin, then turned my head to catch his lips in another kiss.
Being with Nix was just so easy. Everything came so naturally, so naturally. Nix hummed happily, then slowly sat up, rubbing over his hair like he was still waking up. He stood up, shucked off his sweatpants, and stole a clean pair of my boxers like he did it all the time.
And I found I wanted him to. I wanted this to be a routine. I wanted him stealing my clothes, and waking up in my bed, as often as possible.
Nix stretched his arms leisurely over his head, then threw a smile over his shoulder at me. “I’ve gotta get going,” he said. “Club business to attend to today—Eli’s picking me up. And I gotta go back to the church to get my truck.”
With some effort, I finally sat up in bed too. I felt a lot more clear-headed and ready to face the rest of my day—even though I had nothing exciting on my docket. Probably time to clean up the mess that had built up in the living room the past few days, though.
“Do you usually take your truck to the meetings?” I asked. “It was weird to see you without the bike.”
Nix paused in the middle of pulling on his shirt. He tensed, then sighed as he finished getting dressed. “No, I usually ride. It’s just…”
I stared at him, my eyes widening.
“It was part of the reparations,” Nix admitted. “Between Empire and Hell’s Ankhor. Shane asked for my bike, so it’s his now.”
He shrugged a little, like this wasn’t a huge deal—like Shane had asked for a hundred bucks, or something, not Nix’s beloved Sportster. The bike that I’d grown to love, too, from the evening I’d spent riding on the back of it, feeling its engine rumble between my legs, my arms tight around Nix’s waist. The vintage, carefully maintained bike, with its difficult clutch and slightly incorrect speedometer. The Sportster was gone.
And it was my fault.
“Oh my God, Nix,” I said. I sat on the edge of the bed and massaged my temples. “Nix, I’m so sorry.”
I’d thought I’d avoided the worst of the consequences: war between the clubs. And I’d thought I was repairing things between myself, and the club, and Nix. But this reality was like a cold bucket of water dumped over me. This was somehow worse. Because it wasn’t just me paying for my mistakes by losing my job and my boyfriend. This was Nix losing something he truly loved—a cornerstone of his identity, and his prized possession. He was in a motorcycle club without a bike.
Why wasn’t he furious with me? How was he so calm?
What was he—
“Dawson,” Nix said, snapping me out of my spiral. He sat down on the bed next to me and placed his hand on my thigh, then knocked his shoulder against mine. “It’s just a bike.”
“Just?” I said, disbelieving. “You love that bike.”
Nix shrugged but didn’t deny it. “It’s a bike,” he said again. “And if these reparations were the push you needed to start getting better, then I’m happy to give it up.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “You should—why aren’t you mad?”
“Because I’ve been there,” Nix said simply. “And you’re more important to me than a bike. I can replace my bike. But you—” He paused, then took a breath. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t care about the bike.”
My heart clenched. He’d sacrificed so much for me, without even knowing if I was going to change at all. And in his words, I could hear the echo of the pain he still felt from losing Sienna.
A new sense of determination settled in me. I was going to prove to him—and to myself—that it was worth it. That I really was going to change and walk out the life I should have been living all along. Be the man Nix deserved all along.
“You won’t,” I confirmed firmly. I cupped his cheek in my hand, and turned his face for a hard, brief kiss, like a promise. “You’re stuck with me.”
Nix laughed a little into the kiss. “It might be the other way around,” he murmured against my lips. He broke the kiss, then knocked his forehead against mine with a smile. On my nightstand, his phone buzzed, grabbing his attention. “Oh, Eli’s probably here. Really gotta go.”
“I just can’t believe you lost your bike for me,” I said with a shake of my head.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Nix said as he hurried to gather his things. “Really. I was due for an upgrade, anyway. The Sportster’s great, but it requires so much maintenance, and the parts are really expensive to replace… Maverick’s been showing me the specs on last year’s Harley Fat Boy, it’s got that silhouette I love, and with the wholesaler discount, you know… Anything could happen.”
He quirked one eyebrow, peering at me over the top of his glasses. God. He was so fucking precious. I felt exhausted again, worn out from the emotional whiplash of the conversation. I had the feeling I’d feel this way a lot in the upcoming weeks and months, as I finally faced all the damage I’d done over the years.
Nix just smiled at me, though, kissed me again, and murmured goodbye before darting down the stairs and out the door.
I’d originally planned to stay home most of the morning and clean up. But now I had a new sense of urgency burning in me. Just acknowledging it wasn’t enough. Just showing up to a single meeting wasn’t enough.
Nix had given up a lot for me. I wasn’t going to let that sacrifice be for nothing.
I made coffee, ignoring the mess in my kitchen, and called Brennan.
“Hey,” he said. “How’d things go?”
“Do you know where Mal is today?” I asked.