Page 112 of Boulder's Weight

Amara follows, her face impossible to read, but when she nods at me, I know everything is okay.

Sam makes his way to us, still moving gingerly. "Your president is...intense."

"You have no idea," Boulder says, standing to offer Sam his seat. "Welcome to the clubhouse, officially."

Sam looks between us, a small smile playing at his lips. "Thanks. I appreciate you looking out for my sister."

Boulder's hand comes to rest on my shoulder, "She's my ol’ lady. It's my job."

It's the first time he's introduced me that way to anyone, and it’s crazy how a few simple words can make my heart skip.

I don't correct him, even though we've never formally discussed changing our "temporary" arrangement into something permanent.

Sam notices, his smile widening,"Good. She deserves someone who sees her worth."

That night, after Sam has already gone back into his bedroom, Boulder and I finally have a moment alone.

The day's events have left me emotionally drained but strangely peaceful.

Having Sam here, knowing he's safe, has lifted a weight I didn't realize I was carrying.

Boulder sits on the edge of our mattress, watching me as I get ready for bed. "You look happier," he observes.

I glance at him in the mirror as I brush my hair. "I am. Having Sam here... it means more than I can say."

"He's a good kid," Boulder admits. "Smart, too. Amara's impressed with how much intel he gathered on Benji's operation."

I set down my brush and turn to face him. "Thank you for giving him a chance. I know it's a risk for the club."

Boulder shrugs. "He's your brother. Your family. Didn’t seem like much of a risk if you ask me."

I cross the room to stand between his legs, my hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "And what are you?" I ask softly.

His hands settle on my hips, warm and possessive. "What do you want me to be?"

The question hangs between us.

We've been dancing around definitions since the night he claimed me in front of the club, both of us hesitant to put labels on whatever's growing between us.

It was supposed to be for protection, so when did it shift into… whatever this is.

"Mine," I whisper, surprising myself with the boldness of it. "Just mine."

Something flares in Boulder's eyes—heat, possessiveness, and something deeper that makes my breath catch. "I've been yours since that first night in Montana," he admits, his voice rough. "Just took me a while to figure it out."

His hands tighten on my hips, drawing me closer until I'm straddling his lap.

The kiss that follows is different from our usual hungry, desperate ones—slower, deeper, filled with an emotion neither of us has been brave enough to name.

I tug at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine.

He helps me, breaking our kiss only long enough to pull the fabric over his head.

My hands explore the familiar planes of his chest, tracing the tattoos that mark his skin, memorizing him with my fingertips.

"I want to take care of you tonight," I murmur against his lips, pushing him gently back onto the bed.

Boulder's eyes darken as he watches me slide down his body, my lips trailing a path from his neck to his chest, lingering over the places I know make him groan.

---