Page 83 of Wild Night

His jaw clenches, and a muscle in his cheek tics. “Justin,” I breathe. “When do you get released?”

“Today,” he says, his eyes never looking away from mine. “A few hours.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare at him, unable to look away. I want to climb onto this bed and take him. I want a lot of things—everything. I want it all. Every single thing. But right now, my thighs clench because I want himthere.

I want him right now. I think about just throwing caution to the wind and doing what Justin wants, mainly because I want it, too.

When the door opens, all thoughts of sex fade into the distance. The man who walks through the door is the doctor. I back away slightly, so it doesn’t look like I’m seconds away from crawling onto this bed and taking off my clothes, which is more of the truth than not.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” the doctor asks.

“You know I am,” Justin grunts.

The doctor chuckles, then gives him some instructions. Like meeting up with the orthopedic about his broken arm. Taking it easy for a few weeks. Monitoring any symptoms of concussions, headaches, vomiting, and all the things.

“I can’t discharge you until the police ask you some questions. They’re on their way up.”

Justin grunts, but the doctor rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine, Justin.”

“I know I will. Doesn’t mean I want to be interrogated.”

“When they’re gone, I’ll sign off on you leaving, and you can head out. You got someone who can drive you?” He flicks his attention to me.

I open my mouth to tell him that I would drive him if I had a car here, but Justin speaks first. His eyes flick from the doctor’s to mine, and he grins before he does. I press my thighs togetheras his eyes dance. He knows what he’s doing to me. He knows how he’s looking at me, and he thinks it’s funny.

“Posey will drive me home.”

The doctor grunts, then starts to walk out of the room when Justin calls out. “George.” The doctor turns his head, looking over his shoulder at Justin. “You’re a good dude. Thanks for everything.”

He doesn’t respond to the compliment and simply walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Shifting my attention to Justin, I arch a brow in question. He shrugs a shoulder, and I think he’s not going to explain to me what that was about.

“His mother was a clubwhore when we were younger. Bullet and I have known him forever.”

“Where is she now?” I ask.

Justin shrugs a shoulder. “Far as I know, once George graduated from medical school, she got herself a condo and retired. Most of the originals were retiring then anyway, like my dad. It seemed like a good time for things to change and a new guard to take over, I guess.”

“He didn’t want to be part of the club?” I ask. “You’re family, right?”

He hums, reaching out before he laces his fingers with mine. “George was always welcome to prospect the way the rest of us were, but I think he felt like an outsider because of who his mom was to everyone. He knew what she did, who she was to them.”

Thinking about that, I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like. Knowing your mother was essentially a hooker and then having to be around all the people she slept with. And then their kids, whose fathers were all members of the club who did what they did with her.

“I can imagine that would be rough,” I rasp.

Justin’s fingers squeeze mine, and my gaze flies up to meet his. “Once the cops are gone, let’s go home, princess.”

Home.

It doesn’t feel like my home yet, probably because I haven’t been there more than a few nights. But this is my world now, and I’m excited for it to get started and excited for what is to come. I might be living a pipe dream, but I’m going to continue living it until reality makes it impossible... again.

I hope this time it all sticks, because we’re bringing a whole life into this world, and I want to do it with this man. I’ve never wanted anything more. I fell for him without knowing a damn thing about him, and the more I learn, the further I fall.

IVY

When the police arrive, Piggy hangs back, shaking his head when he doesn’t want me to answer a question and nodding his head when he does. I’m not sure why the detectives allowed him to be in the room, but I’m grateful, because I still feel a bit foggy about everything that happened, and I don’t want to fuck anything up.

They interview me for about thirty minutes, then leave. Piggy stays behind, his brow arching as he watches me for a moment. “You really got no clue?” he asks.

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