Page 32 of Contracted to the Bikers

No one speaks. For a long moment, the only sound in the room is breathing. “Fuck,” Cruz mutters.

Rook looks at him, then at Boone, then back at me. Something between them shifts; the anger isn’t gone, it’s not resolved, but realigned, put into perspective. “You’d leave,” he says.

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. No one argues, because they know I mean it.

Rook studies me, his gaze intense like he’s trying to find a crack in my defense. There isn’t one. Finally, he exhales slowly. “We’re not losing you,” he says.

Cruz nods once. “Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s not an option.”

Boone steps closer, his presence solid at my side. No words, he doesn’t need to say anything for me to know he agrees.

The tension doesn’t disappear or magically fix itself, but it changes from something that could break to something that might hold if we’re careful. If we’re honest. I look at all three of them. “This only works if we choose it,” I say quietly.

Not forced or assumed, or contractually agreed, but chosen.

The guys nod in agreement. “No more secrets,” Rook says, and I know he is a man of his word, that he won’t leave me in the dark anymore, so neither will I.

“Just honesty,” I agree.

For the first time, I feel like this might actually work.

Chapter 13

Sloane

The clubhouse is unusually quiet. It’s not empty, it never is, but it’s quiet in an unfamiliar way. Most of the men are out. The garage noise is distant, muted. Even the usual low hum of voices in the main room is gone.

Jessy is at school. She’s safe, happier now she has a bit of normality back, a routine. I can breathe a little easier knowing she is adjusting to the situation. For the first time in days, there’s space, which somehow makes everything feel more deliberate. I’m no longer reacting or acting on adrenaline. No one is forcing me to do this; I’m making a choice.

I stand in the hallway outside Rook’s room, my pulse already too fast, my mind running ahead of me even as my hand hovers just inches from the door. I knock once, and the door opens almost immediately, like he was waiting just behind it. Rook stands there, his broad shoulders filling the frame, a dark shirt stretched across his chest. His eyes linger knowingly on me like he knew it would be me before I even knocked.

For a second, neither of us speaks. The air between us is already tight. It feels charged with energy.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and careful, which is new. I’ve never known Rook to relinquish control, to appear uncertain.

I hold his gaze. “Yes.”

That’s all it takes. He steps back and lets me in. Rook’s room feels different from mine, less temporary. It’s undeniably his, a room that evokes the strong, masculine man before me. It’s all dark wood and clean lines. Dominating the center of the room is a giant bed that looks solid enough to hold multiple people, no doubt by design. I shake away thoughts of those who came before me. They don’t matter. He has a past and so do I. What matters is now.

The door closes behind me with a quiet click, and he suddenly closes the distance between us, stepping closer slowly, his movements measured and careful, giving me time to stop him if I want to. I don’t.

My hands find his shirt first, gripping the fabric like I need something solid to anchor to. His body is warm under my palms, solid in a way that feels steady, grounding.

His hand slides to my waist, firm and possessive, we’re long past him asking, but he doesn’t take either.

“You walked in here like you have something to prove,” he murmurs.

“Maybe I do,” I purr, my lips softly caressing his in the barest hint of a kiss, eliciting a low rumble in his chest.

His mouth curves slightly. “Yeah?”

I don’t answer, I don’t need to. The tension snaps, and then he’s kissing me. It’s not slow or careful now. Everything we’ve been holding back for days comes rushing forward. The passion and pressure and something just shy of control. I feel it everywhere. In the way his hand tightens at my waist, the way my fingers curl into his shirt, and the way my body reacts before my mind can catch up.

The door opens, we didn’t need to arrange this for everyone to know that now’s the time, if this is going to happen, it’s now or never. I don’t pull back, I know who it is, I feel him without needing to see. Cruz’s presence fills the room differently. He has a sharper, faster energy that cuts through the heaviness, turning it into something electric.

“Well,” he says lightly, voice rougher than usual, “I guess we’re doing this.”

Rook doesn’t let go of me; he doesn’t even look at him. “Door’s behind you if you’ve changed your mind,” he says, only half joking.