Page 24 of The Biker and the Single Mom

"This." My free hand grips his shoulder. "You."

The pleasure builds gradually, a tide rising between us. His name falls from my lips—raw, necessary. He responds with his own litany of praise—how good I am, how right this is, how he never wants to let go.

When I finally break, he's right there with me, my name a rough exhale against my neck. We hold each other through the aftershocks, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.

"Damn," he finally says.

I laugh, breathless. "Yeah. Damn."

He rolls to his back, pulling me with him so I'm sprawled across his chest. His fingers trail up and down my spine, steady and soothing.

"Stay like this forever?" I suggest.

"Deal." He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Although eventually Luna's going to wake up and want breakfast."

"Details."

We lie tangled together in the dark, his heartbeat steady under my ear. His hand runs through my hair in long, soothing strokes.

"You deserve it all," I whisper.

His arms tighten around me. "Already got it."

Six months.

Half a year since I showed up at his clinic at one in the morning, desperate and afraid.

Six months of building a life I didn't know I could have.

Saturday morning means the farmers market—our weekly ritual. Luna rides on Doc's shoulders, pointing out every flower and vegetable with enthusiastic commentary. I walk beside them, grocery bag over my shoulder, pretending not to notice how every woman we pass does a double-take.

He's mine. They can look all they want.

"Daddy Doc, can we get strawberries?"

"Whatever you want, princess."

We're loading up on produce when I spot Maddie and Jax across the way, their toddler Emmett balanced on Jax's hip. Maddie waves us over.

"Look at you three," she says, grinning. "Domestic as hell."

"Says the woman buying organic baby food," I counter.

"Fair point." She shifts her own grocery bag. "Luna, want to help Emmett pick out some flowers?"

Luna scrambles down from Doc's shoulders, taking Emmett's chubby hand with careful gentleness.

"I've got them," Jax says, following the kids toward the flower stall.

Maddie loops her arm through mine. "So. Six months in. How's it going?"

"Good." Better than good. Right, actually, but I don't want to jinx it.

"Just good?" She bumps my shoulder. "Girl, I've seen the way that man looks at you. That's not 'good.' That's 'I would burn down the world for you' territory."

Heat creeps into my cheeks. "It's really good, Maddie. Like, scary good. Like I keep waiting for something to go wrong."

"It's not too easy. You both earned this." She squeezes my arm. "You got out of a bad situation, he got help for his trauma, and now you're building something healthy. That's not luck—that's work."