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“What do you mean?”

“There’s an honor code of sorts. Clubs don’t go after Old Ladies or kids. The innocents stay innocent. That’s how we avoid total war between clubs. Shit can get settled between men, but no one fucks with family.”

“So theoretically, if I became your Old Lady, I’d be off limits?”

“Yup. Becoming an Old Lady is serious shit, Mia. To the brothers, it’s more binding than marriage. Marriage is a piece of paper. Marriage is an institution created by society that can be dissolved. Becoming an Old Lady is a way of life, so you gotta make sure you’re ready for it before you commit.”

I couldn’t eat another bite. I’d left a quarter of the enchiladas on the plate, which I pushed away. The moment I signaled I was done, Colt took my fork and ate the rest of my food.

The waitress came by and dropped off the check before flouncing back to the bar where she not so secretly watched Colt. He reached for his wallet and took out a few crisp bills.

It made me wonder if the money had come from his garage or from his criminal enterprises.

Shelly had warned me to stay away from motorcycle clubs. Colt might’ve been a criminal, but what did that say about me—the woman who was deciding whether or not to be with him?

I’d directly benefit from Colt’s business. I’d be taken care of financially, I wouldn’t have to worry about little luxuries, and I knew he wanted to pay for my last semester of college.

Colt could protect me, take care of me.

“Shoulda ordered you another margarita,” he muttered. “I can hear you thinking.”

“You can’t hear a person think,” I said with a dry laugh.

“All your thoughts are flashing across your face like a movie reel. I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking right this moment?” I taunted.

“You’re thinking about how much you want me inside you.”

My eyes widened.

He grinned wickedly. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” he asked, changing the subject.

“No.”

“When your wrist is healed, I’m gonna get you on the back of my bike. There’s nothing like it, feels like you’re flying. Feels like freedom. I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. A tiny little town off the Oregon coast. We’ll rent side-by-sides and drive down to the beach and then watch the sunset.”

He took my hand that rested on the table and traced my ring finger. “I’ll take you back to a bed and breakfast I know. It’s a place that if you leave the windows open, you can smell the mist from the ocean. I’ll slide into you, Mia, and stay there until dawn.”

I swallowed at the shot of desire between my thighs.

“You’re not fighting fair,” I murmured.

“Who said anything about fair? You want me, yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you,” I admitted. “What about marriage?”

“What about marriage?”

“You called it an institution. A piece of paper.”

“It is,” he insisted. “But I’d still marry you. If you become my Old Lady you get the protection of my club. Then you become my wife and you’ve got the protection of my last name and the fact that you can’t legally be forced to testify against your husband in court if it ever comes to that.”

Practical as well as decisive. That was Colt. When he knew what he wanted, he went after it. But he thought things through. Wasn’t going to get caught up in emotion and let it rule him.

I was suddenly exhausted. It was like I’d been constantly swimming upstream, trying to get away from Colt and all that he made me feel. Trying to get away from Dev and the blanket of terror he’d thrown over my life.

I hadn’t even slept with Colt yet. Only this morning had things escalated to a physical level—and the man had been right. Not arrogant, just right. When I was in his bed, I wanted to stay there and I hadn’t even had him the way I wanted him.


Tags: Emma Slate Blue Angels Motorcycle Club Romance