Page 12 of Phoenix

The moment we stepped inside, I steered her straight to the stairs and up to my room. I lived full-time at the clubhouse. Came with the territory when you were the club treasurer—and a control freak. Unlike the bunk-style rooms most of the guys used for crashes or overnight visits, those who were here full-time had rooms that were closer to a suite. A small sitting area, king bed, desk, and built-in shelves I had loaded with files and books. As an officer, my space also had an attached bathroom. The clubhouse was home, but this was the one place in this building that was only mine. My brothers didn’t barge in here like they did with my office.

I shut the door behind us and turned the lock, then watched Lindsay silently as she looked around. Eventually, she faced me with wide, watchful eyes. She was trying to appear calm and collected, but she was practically vibrating with tension.

“Sit,” I ordered, voice low, gesturing to the couch. “You need a minute to breathe.”

“I’m fine,” she argued, her chin tilting in that stubborn way that made my cock twitch.

I narrowed my eyes, making it clear that I didn’t believe her. “Humor me.”

It wasn’t a request, and she knew it. She huffed adorably but padded over to the sofa and sat.

I ran my hands through my hair, then dropped my head back to stare up at the ceiling and sighed. Adrenaline was still pumping through me, and it was making it hard to ignore my desire to expend that energy with Lindsay. In bed. Naked.

When I brought my gaze to her once more, there was a pretty blush on her cheeks, and for a moment, my restraint snapped. I crossed the room in a few steps, bent down, bracing my hands on either side of her head, and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. Or gentle. Or any of the things it probably should have been after what she’d gone through.

It was hard. Consuming. Almost desperate.

I kissed her like I meant it. As though I’d nearly watched her get stolen off the street. Like I needed to taste her just to make sure she was still here. Safe. In my arms.

Her fingers twisted in my shirt, tugging me closer as heat sparked between us. Her breath hitched, her mouth opening under mine, and I inhaled her bewitching scent. I fucking needed her like I needed to breathe.

“Fuck, you taste good.”

She was sweet. Addictive. And with a little encouragement, I had no doubt she would be wild.

My hands cupped her face and…

A banging on the door interrupted me.

I growled against her lips, ready to kill the motherfucker on the other side. My forehead dropped to hers as I panted and tried to regain my control.

“Better not be fucking,” Maverick shouted from the hallway, his voice too damn amused. “Club business, asshole. Brief the prez before you start breeding her.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” I muttered.

Lindsay let out a tiny, breathless laugh. “Um…did he say…um. Do you guys always bang on each other’s doors like that?”

I scowled at the door as if it would penetrate the hard surface and burn Maverick to fucking ashes. “Only when we know we’re interrupting something.”

Then my gaze dropped to her stomach for a moment. I decided not to tackle the question she’d been about to ask. Not yet. It would be happening real fucking soon if I had my way, though.

Lindsay giggled again, and I kissed her once more. Fast, rough, and filthy. But over too fast. Just enough to leave her gasping and flushed with intense desire.

“Gotta go talk to Fox.” I straightened and walked toward the door but paused to toss one more demand over my shoulder. “Don’t wander around without me.”

Until she was wearing my property patch, I didn’t want Lindsay running into any of my unattached brothers and giving them the idea that she was available.

When she didn’t say anything, I twisted my head and glared at her. She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but I cut her off. “I mean it, baby.”

After a second, she gave me a reluctant nod, and I lifted my chin in acknowledgment before forcing myself to turn and unlock the door.

Once I was out in the hall, I leaned against the wall for a second, dragging in a breath as I adjusted myself. My dick was as hard as fucking stone, pressing against my zipper as though it was trying to make a jail break. Last thing I needed was to walk into a strategy meeting looking like I was ready to fuck the wall.

“Relax, asshole. Fucking breathe,” I muttered, straightening up and heading for the prez’s office.

Fox sat behind his big, modern desk—one you’d expect to see in the executive's office of a financier on Wall Street—with multiple monitors and nothing out of place. He was a neat freak, but only his wife and our VP could get away with giving him shit about it.

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