37. Lyla

Pulling up to the neighborhood, my mind is flooded with memories of the past.

Running around playing house with Ellie and Reed. Planting flowers in the front lawn, sneaking around places we weren't supposed to go, sitting on the porch scribbling while waiting for Sage to come back from a run.

It was a whole other life we lived on this land—so close and so far away.

Dirt plumes behind the bike, and I tighten my grip around Sage's waist as he rolls to a stop in front of his dad's old house in the neighborhood.

Climbing off the bike, I peel off my helmet and stare up at it. The gray paint is chipping, and the roof is patched. It hasn't been well cared for. But looking down the street, I realize it's not alone. This street is more of a ghost town than the heart of the Twisted Kings compound as it used to be.

The street was filled with laughter and kids. Wives would sit on the front porches sharing drinks and watching them run around. The paint was bright, and the air smelled like fresh-cut grass.

Sage and I aren't the only things that have gotten older.

Most of the houses on the street look like they've been empty for years. Shingles are missing and paint is peeling. A window on a nearby house is boarded up, and the front steps look like one foot would have me falling through the planks.

The street is empty. It's dusty and deserted, and it has me shivering.

"It's so quiet."

Sage takes my hand, guiding me up to the front door. "The families moved off the compound. The guys said it was so they could be closer to the city, but I think their wives just wanted to get farther away from here."

"And this place has been empty ever since?" I ask as Sage unlocks the front door and opens it for me.

"For the most part." He stops inside. "I crash here from time to time. But not much these past couple of years."

Stepping through the front door, I'm dragged back in time. The same hideous green couches are in the living room, and the same pictures hang on the walls. My heart swells at the photo of Sage hanging right inside the door. He's a little kid—much younger than when I first met him, and his eyes still have the sparkle of innocence.

Walking through the house feels like another life I could have lived. One where I'd stuck around and given in to my destiny of falling for a biker. We could have built a family on this street. One I'd look after while he was a Twisted King.

I wonder if I'd have been like the other wives—the ones who left.

Waiting around until eventually resentment bloomed. Until what we had wilted, and the rot would reach up from the roots to the surface.

I'm not certain how that would have turned out. Still, I miss it. This alternate reality we never built together. Maybe we could have been the exception when there was so much proof it wasn't possible.

I like to think that whatever has always existed between us would break expectations.

Glancing up at him, I'm disarmed every time. His strong jaw is tense as his endless eyes watch me. His tattoos make art of his flawless body.

He takes my breath away.

And even if he allowed pieces of himself to move on, a part of us was planted in this land when we were kids, and that part of us never left. A part of him was always with me, and a part of me was with him.

Sage stops in the den and drops down onto the couch, pulling me with him, and I curl against his side.

He has to stay on the compound for a few days while the Vegas chapter is in town, and he didn't want to leave me in the city. So here I am, back where I said I'd never go again.

Home.

Part of me is surprised Kane's even allowing Sage to continue protecting me given what he knows about our relationship, but I'm thankful.

My father still hasn't addressed whatever happened, but Sage didn't let go of my hand when we met with him earlier, so he's at the very least accepted it.

Sinking into Sage's hold, we stare out the large window that overlooks an empty corner of the Twisted Kings property. A few sparse trees scatter across the land. This late in the evening, the sun is setting, coating the LA desert in a warm glow.

"This could have been our life." I rest my head against Sage's shoulder.

He hums. "It could have been a lot of things."

"Maybe I should have just accepted it."

After all, if I really didn't want this life, I'd have left when Ellie did. Or when Reed did. But I wasn't like them, and even if I hated that part of myself, I knew a piece of me belonged on this land.

"You're too stubborn for that." Sage chuckles.

"Is that so?" I crawl onto his lap, straddling him, and planting my hands on his shoulders.

He grabs my jaw and pulls my mouth to his for a kiss. "That's so."

I shake my head when he releases my jaw. His palms find my thighs and rub up and down.

"Are you telling me you never thought about it?" I dig my fingers into his shoulders and his eyes roll back. "That in all these years you never regretted not patching in?"

"I regretted plenty, but not that exactly." He tips his head back against the couch and looks up at me. "I regretted not looking for you the first time you left. For not admitting my feelings for you sooner. For not making you my old lady the second you turned eighteen."

"I hate that term."

Sage squeezes my thighs. "I know you do. And you'd be a terrible one anyway."

"Says who?" My eyebrows pinch, and even if I've never wanted that title, I still pretend to be hurt.

"Anyone who's ever heard you run your fucking mouth." Sage grins.

"You like it when I run my mouth," I remind him, sinking against his body and giving him a quick kiss. "If for no other reason than having an excuse to punish me for it."

"You're right." Sage grabs my chin, pressing his thumb over my lower lip and peeling my mouth open. "I like all sorts of things about your mouth."

I run my tongue over the pad of his thumb, and he groans, pushing it deeper.

"All sorts of things, huh? Like this?" I mumble around his thumb, closing my lips around it and sucking on it as he drags it out.

"Fuck, Lyla." His hands once more find my hips, and he rocks me over him. "You're a wet dream."

I press my chest to his and circle my hips in his lap, kissing him slowly, sinking into the intensity that is our bodies colliding.

He kisses a path down to the center of my throat while his hands roam around my hips so he can grip my ass. Resting his forehead over my breasts, he lets out a sigh, and I continue to ride him, even if we're fully dressed.

Sage feels right. He feels safe. I trust him with my entire being, and I wish I'd accepted that sooner.

He was meant for me.

He isn't scared of me for who my father is, and he doesn't look down on me like so many of the bikers do. Sage accepts me for who I am, and he wants me for who I am. It's mesmerizing.

"I haven't been me without you." He plants a kiss over my heart. "I didn't know who I was anymore."

Cupping his face in my hands, I lose myself in his stare. "I still see you for exactly who you are."

"And who is that?"

"Someone good. Someone who cares no matter how much you try to hide it." I tip my forehead to his. "Someone who would have fought for me if I'd given him the chance."

"Are you going to give me the chance now?"

"Yes."

Even if it scares me. Even if instinct begs me to run—to hide.

There's no walking away from Sage this time.

"Good."

The seams of resistance fray as he pulls me in for a kiss. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, and I rock over him.

After losing my virginity to Sage, I tried to be with other men and couldn't. I assumed it was the trauma or my trust issues. Or the fact that I've never been very good at letting people in.

But in Sage's hands, I feel the truth in the pit of my bones. My body was made for him, and even if he's handed out pieces, I'm the only one to get the parts of him he values. He's as much mine as I'm his.

Sliding off his lap, I kneel between his legs and look up at him. He cups my jaw, running his thumb over my lower lip and watching my mouth part with my exhale.

I undo his pants and pull out his thick erection.

"Am I yours, Sage?" I lean forward and run my tongue over the tip of his cock, tasting the excitement that leaks from the slit.

"You're mine, Lyla."

Circling his head, I smile through his groan as I torture him.

"There you go testing me with that fucking mouth again." His fingers grip into my hair.

I suck the tip into my mouth and pull back, before giving him what he wants. "What are you going to do about it?"

The dark smirk that climbs his cheeks has blood rushing hot through me. Has me throbbing and needy.

"I'm going to shut you up with my cock." He shoves my mouth down over him and tears spring to my eyes.

Gripping my hair, he controls the depth and movements. He pushes deeper than I can take him, giving me what he promises. Stealing my air and forcing me to choke. The beast comes out as he fucks my face and claims me like he knows as well as I do that I've always belonged to him.

He holds me down on his cock, and I wrap my hand around the base, stroking what doesn't fit, looking up into his eyes.

His cock pulses in my hand and his nails dig into my scalp. He's barely holding on, and I want to be the woman who has the power to break him. Who gets the pieces he doesn't hand to anyone. I want to be his first, his last, his forever.

Sage pulls me off his cock and tips my head back. I'm panting and my mouth is wet from spit. He leans forward and claims it with his. Shoves his tongue in like he did his cock. Like he needs every part of him to be inside me.

I suck on his tongue, and he groans, hesitantly pulling back.

"Strip." He reaches for his pants and shoves them down further.

I'd like to talk back just to see what he'll do about it, but his dark eyes rove my body and I'm at the mercy of his commands. Standing, I pull my shirt overhead and slowly strip for him. I'm already not wearing a bra, and my nipples peak as I watch him stroke himself.

Sage makes me feel truly beautiful, every curve—or lack thereof—he worships.

Peeling off my pants, I climb back into his lap and strip his shirt off him. I need his skin. His palms, his teeth. I need him to sink in and not let go. It's feral, desperate. And as he grabs my hips and shoves me down on his bare shaft, I scream with my soul tearing out of me.

My hips circle, and he holds me over him so he can thrust up. Our chests press together, and I dig my nails into his shoulders. Pleasure and pain. There's never enough to satisfy me. I need more.

I need everything.

He fucks me until he snaps, and then he's twisting us around to slam my back into the couch so he can fuck me harder. He hooks his arms under my legs and takes me with every ounce of his body—of his heart.

I tip my head back to scream, and he steals it.

He takes me like it's the first time or the last time or the only time.

Like it's everything either of us needs.

His pelvis grinds against my clit and I shatter. My body begs for his cum, and he gives it to me. The life we could have had, and maybe we still should. Whether I think we're allowed to or not.

He releases into me and slows his thrusts, even if they still hit me just as deep. With each hard hit of my core, I shake all over again. He draws out my climax, and I grab his face, forcing him to kiss me.

I want him in all the versions of the life we could have had.

I want him in all the versions of the man he is or was.

And I want him to have all of me.

Sage hovers his mouth over mine, and I can't breathe at his touch, but my heart still races.

He kisses my forehead, then tips his to it. "I need you."

"I need you too."

"That never changed. Didn't matter how many years went by. I always needed you," he admits through heavy breaths. "I always will."

"Same," I reply, kissing him. "It's fate."

"Fate," he repeats, and I think he might actually believe it.