Page 21 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

“The cat?”

“Bob.”

Reaper instantly relaxed. He’d always hated cats because he couldn’t read them. And they scratched. But he couldn’t deny Grace anything.

“You can bring him, I guess.”

“I won’t be comfortable in a place like that,” she said. “And I never will.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll be with me. I have a big king bed, remember?”

She was sulking but he knew she’d already given in to the idea for her own safety.

“I don’t drive and I still have work and volunteering. This is just until you figure out who’s following me, right?”

“Yeah.”

He planned to keep her. He was never letting her go.

Chapter Eight

The clubhouse was everything Grace was afraid of.

There were a lot of people, a lot of bikers, and it absolutely terrified her, which was why she stayed in Reaper’s bedroom ever since this morning. Reaper had brought her to the club, introduced her to a load of people, most whose names she couldn’t remember. There were so many of them. All dressed in some form of leather cut.

If her parents were still alive, she had a sneaking suspicion they would have cut her off by now. Maybe called her a traitor to her sister’s memory.

Life was getting so complicated, and she kept trying to think of a good reasonable excuse as to why a black SUV should be near her. It had to be a coincidence. Only, Grace knew there were not a lot of coincidences in her world. There was nothing more than nightmares.

She sat on the edge of Reaper’s bed. He brought her to his room and told her to get comfortable, settle herself in, as he needed to go and do something. He didn’t elaborate on what that was, and now she sat all alone, unsure what to do with herself. All the time, replaying that kiss.

She knew there had been tension between them. She hadn’t thought it was sexual tension, but the way he held her, the way he grabbed her, even now she couldn’t help but close her eyes, feeling so ... aroused. This was not what she wanted.

And yet, that was exactly what she wanted. She pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips, and it was like he was right there, in the room with her, which was crazy. She took a deep breath, and then felt a little sick.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and she stared at it, a little dumfounded and not sure what she should do. If she ignored it, that was rude. Maybe Reaper told someone she was staying in his room. Perhaps it was a woman trying to find Reaper.

She winced and pursed her lips, climbing off the bed to make her way to the door, which was just a few short steps. Reaper’s room wasn’t overly large, but still bigger than her tiny apartment. He did have that king-size bed he was talking about, and she had to admit it was amazing.

She gripped the handle, twisted, and looked around the door to see a smiling woman. Reaper had introduced her, but she couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

“Hi, I’m Ally, we met this morning when Reaper brought you around.”

“Ally, right, yes, hello,” she said.

“I just came to see if everything was okay, and if you were happy?” she asked, hands clasped together.

This was not how she imagined a club woman to be. Was Ally a sweet-butt?

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Are you looking for Reaper?” she asked, feeling that hint of jealousy sweep over her.

“No, I actually came to see you, and I just wanted to make sure you’re settling in okay. I know the club can be a little full-on, especially if you’re not used to the whole biker scene.” She let out a little giggle. “If you need anything, just call for me. I’m Lord’s old lady.”

“Old lady?”

“Yeah, I’m his wife. His woman.” She held her hand out, and it was like she had a dozen questions.

“You’re not a sweet-butt?” she asked, and felt incredibly rude asking.