Page 9 of Viper's Single Mom
"Helmet first," I said automatically.
Viper was already pulling a child-sized helmet from his saddlebag. Brand new. Pink, with rainbow stickers. He'd bought my daughter a helmet.
My chest constricted as I watched him kneel to help her adjust the straps, his massive frame folded down to her level,patience incarnate as she chattered about school and her friend Lucy and how Tyler pulled her hair at recess.
"Tyler sounds like he needs to learn some manners," Viper said, steadying the bike as Izzy climbed on.
"Boys are stupid." She wobbled, and his hand shot out to balance her. "Except you. You're not stupid."
"Appreciate that, princess."
Princess. The endearment Harrison had weaponized, turned into something controlling and diminishing. But from Viper's mouth, it sounded like a promise. Like protection. Like she was precious.
I sat on the porch steps, watching my daughter ride circles in the driveway while a dangerous man jogged beside her, ready to catch her if she fell. The late afternoon sun caught the silver threading through his dark hair, highlighted the tattoos covering his arms, made his leather cut gleam.
He shouldn't look safe. Nothing about him should read as safe.
But when Izzy took a turn too fast and started to tip, he caught her with gentle hands, setting her upright with an encouraging word. When she succeeded in a full circle without wobbling, his grin was genuine and proud.
"Mama, look! I'm doing it!"
"I see, baby! You're amazing!"
She beamed and pedaled harder, confidence growing with each rotation.
"Inside before dark," I called. "Homework before dinner."
"Five more minutes?"
I glanced at Viper. He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "I've got nowhere to be."
Five minutes turned into fifteen, then twenty, before Izzy finally tired herself out. She parked the bike carefully on the porch, helmet placed reverently on the seat.
"Thank you, Mr. Viper." She threw her arms around his legs, squeezing tight before I could warn her that he might not like?—
His hand settled on her head, gentle as butterfly wings. "Anytime, princess."
She disappeared inside with promises to draw him a picture of her bike. The door clicked shut, leaving us alone in the gathering dusk.
"You didn't have to do that." My voice came out rougher than intended.
"Wanted to." He moved closer, crowding into my space without quite touching. "She's a good kid."
"She's everything." The admission slipped out before I could stop it.
"I know." His hand rose to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Both of you. Everything."
The air between us crackled with tension so thick I could barely breathe. I should step back. I should remember I'd sworn off men, especially dangerous ones. I should protect my heart the way he was protecting my body.
Instead, I swayed toward him, my body making decisions my mind wasn't ready for.
"Tara." My name on his lips sounded like a claiming. "Tell me to stop."
"I can't."
"Thank fuck."
His mouth crashed into mine, and every careful wall I'd built crumbled. This wasn't Harrison's possessive brutality or the fumbling boys from before him. This was consuming fire that somehow didn't burn. Demanding but not taking.
