Page 69 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
“Eden.” His voice dipped into that register that made it statistically harder for me to make rational decisions. “Sarah works with the club.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped me, because yep, gone was the girl who used to accept vague non-answers from tech bros who thought they could dazzle me with buzzwords and empty explanations. “That’s not an answer, Jake. That’s a deflection. And I’ve had enough of those in my life to last several software development cycles.”
His eyebrows lifted at my tone, but I wasn’t done.
“How does she work with the club?” The possessive way she’d touched him earlier flashed through my mind, along with every other time I’d seen them together. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she works with you in particularly close ways.”
I held his gaze, refusing to back down. I’d let too many guys dodge direct questions with indirect answers. I was done being the girl who settled for partial explanations and maybes.
His expression shifted, a flash of realisation, followed by what looked like genuine regret. “She’s helping the club with shit I can’t talk about. And yeah, we had a thing. It ended a month ago. Before I met you.”
The confirmation hit harder than I expected, like finding a critical error in code I thought was clean. “A thing?”
“Nothing serious. Friends with benefits.”
His eyes held mine, intense and honest, and my heart, who was clearly running on corrupted script, misfired like someone had hit refresh on a feeling I was trying to ignore.
“It’s done,” he continued. “It was over before that first day we met.”
I tried to step back, needing space to process, but his hands kept me close. The heat of him, the solid strength of his grip, made it hard to hold onto my resolve. But I forced my feelings out anyway. “She doesn’t seem to think it’s done. The touching, the way she looks at you—” I took a breath, steadying myself. “I’ve made too many excuses for men who didn’t deserve them, Jake. I won’t do it again. Not even for you.”
He didn’t respond straight away, and for a second, I wondered if he wasn’t the guy I thought. Maybe speaking up would push him away.
But then his hand came up, curved around my neck, and his thumb brushed over the frantic beat of my pulse like he was trying to soothe it. “I didn’t see it. I’ve been too buried in club shit and too focused on you to pay attention to what she’s been doing. But you’re right. I should’ve shut it down weeks ago.”
The edge in his voice, the leashed power in his touch, affected me as I fought to stay focused on the conversation.
“I’ll handle it.” The growl in his words held absolute authority. “I’ll make sure she understands exactly where things stand.” His grip tightened, just enough to kick my heartbeat into error mode. “That I’m with you now.”
“Are you?” I challenged. “With me?”
Possession blazed in his eyes, hot enough to brand me as his own. “What do you think this is, Eden? You think I let just anyone get under my skin like you have? That I introduce random women to my mum?” His grip turned as possessive as his stare. “That I get this fuckin’ crazy watching them dance with other men?”
There was no excuse for the way my body responded to that. None. But apparently my hormones hadn’t gotten the memo that we were still pissed.
“Then why didn’t you text? Why?—”
“Because I fucked up.” His gruff honesty cut straight through me. “I’ve spent years keeping club life separate from everything else. It’s safer that way. I thought I was keeping you at a distance to protect you.” He looked at me, raw and exposed. “But the truth is, that was bullshit I was telling myself. I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. You make me want more, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with that.” He pulled me closer. “I’m not good at this. At relationships. But I want to try with you. I’m sorry I left you hanging. That won’t ever happen again. You deserve so much more than silence and men who make excuses.”
The vulnerability in his admission silenced the noise in my head. This was Jake laying his fears bare, offering me a piece of himself no one else got to see.
I reached up and pressed my palm to his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath my touch. “Thank you for not bullshitting me. You have no idea how many men would’ve turned this into gaslighting 101 or fed me some excuse.”
His hand covered mine. “I told you; you deserve better than that.”
“I do.” I looked up at him, letting him see my own vulnerability. “I want more too, Jake. Even though it terrifies me. Even though I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever dated. And that’s the best and scariest part. I don’t know what it means to date a biker.”
The heat that flared in his eyes could have scorched the air between us. “Let me show you.”
His mouth claimed mine and he kissed me like we were the only people in this bar. By the time the kiss ended, my arms were around him and my heart was all but given to him. I was maybe walking into fire with this man, but I was powerless to stop myself.
When we broke apart, his eyes held mine with fierce intensity. “Come home with me.”
I nodded, no hesitation.
He took my hand, fingers intertwining with mine, and led me toward the exit. Sarah was still at the bar, but this time when I caught her eye, I didn’t feel threatened. Because Jake’s grip on my hand said everything about where he stood.
Current status: Trying to remember what life even is. Jake has destroyed my ability to think, breathe properly, and retain information. After he gave me no less than three orgasms (including one that probably had Mrs Primrose updating her romance novel research with a new category titled “Ways to Make Your Neighbour Scream at Ungodly Hours of the Night”), I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to code. Someone should probably warn Johnson that his disaster patches might have to wait until I remember what a semicolon is.
