Page 34 of The Biker and His Bride

“Hey,” I said, leaning over her.

“Hi,” she murmured, voice scratchy from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She smiled, then stilled when she felt my hand skim along her waist, my fingers tracing the curve of her back.

“Again?” she asked softly.

I didn’t answer. Just kissed her slow, savoring every breath, every inch. We made love like it was the first time all over again—unrushed, honest, tender. I memorized every gasp, every sigh. When I finally pulled her close and held her there, I kissed her temple and whispered, “Thank you for marrying me.”

“I should be thanking you,” she whispered back.

Later,I helped her into a new dress—tight at the waist, soft gold satin that made her skin glow. I wore a black tux, no tie, jacket tailored. My cut hung over it like a crown. She ran her fingers through my beard, grinning.

“You clean up nice, Mr. Thorne.”

I kissed her hand. “Let’s go win some money, Mrs. Thorne.”

We hit the high rollers room at Caesar’s. The MC had taken over a corner, drinks flowing, laughter echoing. Dieselwas charming some tourist in a sequined mini dress. Nash was already three fingers deep into top-shelf whiskey. Pitbull, shirtless, played poker like a goddamn professional.

Riley stood by my side like a queen. Eyes lit up, cheeks flushed, drink in hand. She leaned close. “This is insane.”

“You’re my wife now. You better get used to insane.”

She laughed, but then I saw her expression change. A flicker of thought passed through her eyes, soft and worried.

“What is it?” I asked.

She bit her lip, glancing around like she didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“I need to call my parents,” she finally said. “They don’t even know I’m married.”

I took a slow sip of bourbon, giving her the space to speak.

“I know they’ll freak out,” she said. “But… they deserve to know. And… I kind of want you to meet them.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want to bring me to Charleston? To your Country Club family?”

She gave me a nervous smile. “You’ll hate it.”

“I’ll go.”

“You will?”

“I’ll go,” I said again. “Because you’re mine now. And if they want to know the man who married their daughter… they can meet him.”

She blinked fast, getting emotional. “Just… maybe don’t tell them about the tattoos right away.”

I laughed and kissed her temple. “Baby, they’ll see them coming from a mile away.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s give them something to talk about.”

That night, we sat on the rooftop balcony of our suite, the lights of Vegas spread beneath us like a promise. I pulled her into my lap, the ring on her finger catching the neon glow.

She held it up and whispered, “It’s perfect.”

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