Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
My forehead rested against hers, eyes closed, savoring the intimacy of the moment and the quiet stillness that settled around us. I had never felt so complete.
When I finally had the strength to move, I rolled over to my back, taking her with me.
She groaned so softly I almost didn’t hear it.
Shit, I was such a bastard.
“Fuck, little dove. I’m sorry. Took you harder than I should have last night when I popped your cherry. Now this morning, dammit. You’re gonna be sore for days.”
Linden’s head popped up, and she eyed me suspiciously, although humor glinted in the green depths. “You sound more proud than regretful, Keegan.”
My lips curved a little. “Maybe.”
She laughed and stretched up to kiss me. “It was perfect. Last night and this morning.”
“Still, I need to get you in a bath to help ease the ache.”
I climbed out of bed and scooped her into my arms before walking into the bathroom. After setting her on the counter, I turned on the faucet in the tub and let the water run until it was hot. Then I plugged the drain and cared for my girl while the basin filled.
I took a cloth from one of the drawers and ran it under warm water. Gently, I parted her legs and grimaced at how red and swollen her center was. Carefully, I used the warm fabric to soothe and clean up the sticky area.
When the bath was full, I picked her up again and set her down in the steaming tub. I took a step back, and she frowned, catching my hand. “You’re not getting in?”
My eyes devoured her wet, naked body, and I shook my head. “Not a good idea.”
“Why not?” she pouted, making me smile because she somehow looked adorable and sexy at the same time.
“I don’t have enough self-control not to fuck you again, and you’re already gonna be sore as hell.”
“Please?”
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.
Badass, motherfucking enforcer, brought down by the word please from a pair of sweet, erotic lips. I prodded her shoulder, urging her to lean forward, then stepped in and slid down behind her.
She settled against my chest, and to my surprise, I felt contentment and peace. I found myself enjoying the feel of her against me because it was soothing, rather than lust crashing over me. The desire was obviously still there, but it was overruled by the pleasure of simply holding my woman.
Steam drifted from the hot bathwater and mingled with the air around us as Linden leaned back against me. Her head rested comfortably in the hollow of my shoulder, her body soft and relaxed in my arms. I stroked slow, idle patterns along her arm, trailing my fingers across the smooth, damp skin as the tension eased from us both.
“What made you join the MC?” Linden asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. She tilted her face upward, her gaze curious.
I considered the question for a moment, deciding how much to share. My relationship with my parents was complicated. My father, the highly decorated rear admiral, was old-school military, where discipline mattered far more than affection, and emotions were seen as liabilities. I knew he loved me in his own way even though he never expressed it openly. Any approval came wrapped in layers of protocol and stoicism.
My mother, on the other hand, was brilliant but detached, approaching parenting more like mentorship. She was proud of my accomplishments but only ever acknowledged them academically. Instead of warmth or praise, she sent journal articles and offered comments on my test flights as if they were peer reviews on a research paper. Her remarks were never negative—I knew they meant she approved—but they still felt distant and clinical, as though they belonged in the margins of an assignment rather than from mother to son.
All of this emotional baggage wasn’t something I felt ready to unpack, not even with Linden.
“Family,” I finally murmured. “Not the kind you're born with—the kind you find. Spent most of my life with the Navy, living on bases all over the world. First as a kid since my dad was Navy too, a submariner, though, not a pilot. When I wasn't flying, I was riding motorcycles. Learned how to handle a bike from a soldier in the Philippines when my dad was stationed there. Motorcycles gave me a different kind of freedom than flying but just as necessary.”
She tipped her head back and studied me quietly, her eyes thoughtful. “So you grew up military like me.”
I nodded, shifting her slightly in my arms as the water rippled gently around us. “Yeah. Dad was stationed at the Naval Submarine Base Kings Bay, over in St. Marys, when he retired. They’re still down there. Dad consults as a civilian contractor on base, and Mom teaches at UNF in Jacksonville. My older sister, Sylvia, went full academia like our mom. Gifted mathematician. We respect each other, but we aren’t close. When my buddy Fallon left the Navy and joined the Hounds, Kevlar—who we’d become friends with when each of us served with him at one time or another—convinced him to drag me along. After growing up military, I guess I was drawn to the MC because it was a family I chose, not one I was born into.”