Chapter Eight

Sasha

I have so many questions.

As we ride away from the home I grew up in, I rack my brain for what could have happened between Riot, David, and my father. Riot was gone for so long that I was half convinced my father had done something to him. My attempts to barge into the office were stopped by Ben and my mother, who'd approached me moments after Riot had left to speak to my father.

A part of me thought my mother would yell at me and perhaps point out how much of a disappointment I was to her, but instead, she greeted me with a smile, hugging me like she rarely did.

"A biker?" she drawled in that smooth, accented voice of hers. "My innocent little lamb dating a biker. I have to say, I am impressed, Sasha."

Her words had taken me by surprise and rendered me almost speechless. "Y-you're not angry?"

"Angry? Oh no. Quite the contrary. I'm proud of you. I am impressed that you managed to hook someone like that. I always thought you would end up married to some boring, stuck-up suit handpicked by your father." She laughed, brushing her long blond hair off her shoulder. "I mean, the Steel Order MC is not an organization to be taken lightly. I'd have loved for you to have snagged the club president, but I hear he's already engaged. Oh well, I'm told your Riot is a senior member at least. I suppose he'll have to do."

She left me speechless with her words. Laughing to herself, she floated away, leaving behind her familiar sweet scent, proving once again that my mother is a dangerous predator in sheep's clothing. Growing up, she intimidated me far more than my father ever did. She's often underestimated because of her beauty, but she is as dangerous as my father, if not more so. That fact that she is even familiar enough with Riot's club to know that the president is recently engaged proves how well-connected she really is.

But proud? She didn't even tell me she was proud when I graduated from high school at the top of my class.

Her being proud of me makes no sense at all. I thought she'd be livid that I hadn't found someone of higher social standing, but then again, my mother never really cared for status. She was born poor and fought her way to the top before marrying into my father's wealthy family. My grandmother had never let her forget where she came from, and my mother wears her origins like a badge of honor. It's power she values, not money or accolades.

"We're here, baby."

I snap back to the present, lifting my head from Riot's shoulder to look up. We're stopped in front of a beautiful house with wide porch settled on large plot of land. There are several outbuildings nearby and the property is ringed by dense trees. The house is big, but welcoming.

"Where are we?" I ask him when he turns around to take my helmet off.

"The Steel Order clubhouse," he says, and my eyes widen in alarm.

"Really?" I ask, surprised. I knew the club had property right outside the city, but I always imagined it was a small piece of land with a run-down house or a few trailers, but no, this is different. This is a well-manicured property with what looks to be a mechanic's shop and a few storage buildings neatly arranged to one side of the house. The front gardens have vibrant flowers and look to be carefully cultivated.

The property is surrounded by a fence, and there security cameras at the corners of the house and outbuildings. I don't see anyone, but I can hear the sound of distant voices and see several bikes parked in front of the house.

"Some of my brothers live in the rooms here, and others like me choose to live in the city and commute. I work in the shop there," Riot says, gesturing to the mechanic shop. I knew he works as a mechanic for the club, but I hadn't realized the shop was on the same property as the clubhouse.

"What are we doing here, Riot? I thought you were taking me to your home," I ask.

"This is home, Sasha," he tells me. "I want to show you the place I call home and introduce you to the people I consider my family."

His words soften me up a bit, and I nod, climbing off the bike. I lower my foot down, tripping on a rock and almost fall on my face when someone grabs me before I kiss the ground.

"Thank you," I say to the stranger helping me straighten up, but when I look up at his face, I am struck mute. My mouth opens and closes as I stare.

"I think your girlfriend likes me, Riot," the man says with a chuckle, and I splutter.

"No, I . . . Oh God, I-I'm so sorry," I stammer, pushing away from the stranger and moving closer to Riot.

Laughter fills the air, and I flush with embarrassment. Riot wraps an arm around my shoulders, his eyes filled with warmth and amusement as he turns us to face the stranger, who isn't really a stranger at all.

"Sasha, this is my twin brother, Cash."

His brother!

I've heard so much about Cash, Riot talks about him constantly. It's clear that they are more than brothers, they're best friends. In many ways, Riot looks up to Cash, despite being the same age. I almost can't believe he's real after listening to all of Riot's stories.

There is no denying this is Riot's brother, though. While not identical, at first glance, one could easily be confused for the other, but the more I look at them together, the more I notice their differences.

Cash is a more polished version of Riot with his neatly kept hair, and he exudes a calmness that Riot lacks. Where Riot is a rushing river of chaotic energy, Cash is a placid lake. Riot's trademark self-assured smirk that sends my heart hammering is missing from Cash's expression, a quiet confidence taking its place. And his eyes don't carry the mischievous glint always present in Riot's gray eyes. They may look alike, but I can tell their similarities are only skin deep.

"Nice to meet you, Sasha. Let me be the first to commiserate you on having to settle for the ugly twin," Cash teases, and I flush at his words even if I disagree.

"Sure, you tell yourself that." Riot snorts before turning to me. "How about I show you around, Sasha, so you know what you're getting yourself into."

I nod, eager to get Riot alone so I can ask him more about the meeting with my father. I wave at Cash before Riot sets off to show me around the place, introducing some of his brothers to me as we come across them. A part of me was expecting to be met by intimidating tattooed men and for them to be cautious around me, but I am pleasantly surprised with how friendly and welcoming everyone is.

"Is it always like this?" I ask, Riot, leaning my head against his shoulder. "So lively and welcoming?"

"Not always," he tells me as he guides me to a group of men gathered in the backyard. "But the boys are always looking for an excuse to have a party whenever they can."

We stop in front of the group, and Riot introduces me to the president of the club, who is a giant of a man, but then again, everyone I've met so far is just built different from the general population.

"So, this is your girl," the president, Priest, says, and Riots nods. "I trust everything is settled, Riot?" The two men engage in some sort of intense staring contest, and my brows draw in confusion.

"What was that about?" I ask once we've moved on.

"That was his way of asking me if your father is going to cause trouble for the club," he says, reminding me of the fact that he hasn't told me what they discussed in my father's office. "I assured him that I have everything under control."

"Do you?" I ask, worried. He must catch my concern because he stops to look at me, and I hurry to add, "Riot, it's not that I don't trust you. I just don't trust my father or brother. They didn't make it where they are by playing fair."

"I can handle them," he says, cupping my cheek and tipping my head, so I am staring into those beautiful gray eyes. "I love you, Sasha. I have never felt this way about anyone else before. I am willing to fight for us. For the chance to have a life with you." He leans down and presses his lips on mine in a soft kiss that has my toes curling with pleasure. "You're mine, sweetheart. Let me fight for you."

I nod, practically melting into a puddle at his words.

When he draws me into his arms, my body reacts to him like it always does, by heating up. This is not the place or the time, but how can I resist this man? Especially after those words.

"Riot . . ."

"You're trembling," he observes, running a soothing hand up my back, but that does nothing but fan the flames of the fire burning in me. Christ, I need to remember that we're in public and get a hold of myself, but when his hand drops from my waist down to my ass, the thought flies right out my mind. "You surprise me, sweetheart," he whispers into my ear, his voice laced with mirth. "And to think just a few days ago, you were a virgin."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply, biting my lips when a whimper climbs up my throat. Despite my words, I surprise myself too. This man did something to me because every touch from him, however innocent, is enough to send wet heat pooling between my legs. It's confusing to me, and yet, I can't help it.

"Sasha . . ."

"Need you," I whimper, burying my face in his neck. Christ, I need him so bad, my body is practically aching for him.

"We can't do much here," he says, pushing back from the embrace. I read humor written all over his face, and it should embarrass me, but my senses are at capacity. "Come with me."

He grabs my hand and leads me away toward a more secluded spot between two buildings. His lips are on mine the second my back hits the wall of a building. I whimper even as my fingers snake into his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging hard as our tongues engage in a carnal dance.

"I've created a monster," he teases against my lips, his hand dropping to my pants. I writhe needily against him as he works my button and zipper before sliding his hand inside my pants. I jerk against him when his finger grazes my sex over my panties, and a rough, guttural moan leaves his throat when he finds me wet. "Fuck, baby. I want so badly to tear off your panties and fuck you where we stand, but this is not the place." His voice is deep and raspy, and that only adds to my desire for him.

"Can't wait—" My words break off, and a moan slips out when he runs his middle finger over the sensitive nub between my legs. I dig my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from crying out. At least I have half a mind to not draw much attention to our little hiding spot.

"Later," he breathes, his finger stroking my pulsing sex over my panties slowly and sending pleasure building up in my core. "When it's just us in a space with four walls, I'm going to fuck you so fucking hard, you'll feel me for days. Punish you for teasing me like this."

"Yes," I whimper, burying my face into his neck to curb my cries. My sex clenches needily, growing wetter by the second. I bury my teeth into his shoulder when he slips his thick digit past my soaked panties and into my sex. Pleasure shoots up my spine when he starts stroking my channel with his middle finger, slowly at first, but he's soon moving faster.

"You're killing me, baby," he whispers roughly into my ear, adding another finger. "You're so fucking wet, my dick is aching to be inside of you." I bite harder on his shoulder when his thumb joins in, rubbing my aching clit in fast circles that have me clenching his fingers. My thighs start to shake as he draws me closer and closer to climax, and it's not until he leans in and whispers, "Mine" that my body explodes, and I see dark spots bloom in my vision.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders to hold myself up as my knees threaten to give out from the force of my orgasm. I lock my thighs around his hand as a tremble rocks my body. My breath comes in a hot rush.

When the trembling begins to subside, I turn my head and brush my lips over his scruffy jaw, burying myself in his scent and falling a little deeper in love with the man. "Thank you," I whisper.

"Fuck, baby, you have no idea just how much I want you right now," he says gruffly, but he doesn't need to voice his desires, not when it's written all over his face. "Be ready for me tonight, Sasha. I'm going to wreck you."

His eyes are dark and dangerous when they lock on mine, and I can tell he means every word of that promise . . . Or is a threat?

I can't wait to find out.