Page 34 of Chasing After You (Twisted Desires #3)

Dorian

He looked like an oversized little kid—shoes abandoned in the backseat, hair tousled by the wind from the cracked window, and a family-sized bag of gummy worms in his lap.

He hummed tunelessly to the song playing on the radio, head bobbing with a sugar high he tried to blame on everything but the gummy worms. His mouth was stained faintly blue and red, and when I glanced over, he grinned at me with one caught between his teeth.

“You want one?” he asked, offering the bag my way.

I arched a brow. “Isn’t that a bit too sugary?”

Josh shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yeah, but car snacks are supposed to be unhealthy.”

I reached over and plucked one out of the bag, letting my fingers brush against his on purpose. I didn’t even like gummy worms. I just liked him .

My angel.

The road stretched out before us—open, long, and easy. The last few weeks with Josh had shifted something tectonic in me. I was still learning that he was real, and here, and didn’t run screaming every time I touched him.

And that he had “boundaries” I needed to respect. Ugh.

“You nervous?” he asked, licking the excess sugar off his thumb.

“A little,” I admitted. “I don’t know what to expect.”

Josh smiled gently. “They’re good people, Dorian. Paul wouldn’t be riding with them if they weren’t.”

“Still… motorcycle clubs have a reputation. Not that I give a shit if they’re doing anything illegal, but I can’t have you getting hurt or caught up in anything dangerous.”

He snorted, pulling his legs down and sitting up straighter.

“You mean the Sons of Anarchy thing? Yeah, I thought that too. But apparently, most of them are vets, former first responders, or just normal guys like Paul who needed a new kind of family. Last month, they did a fundraiser for burn victims.”

I considered that. It still felt like a foreign language to me. A chosen family that didn’t come with strings, secrets, or debts.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

He made a little face, thinking to himself. “Kind of. I haven’t seen Paul in a while.”

“Did you think through what to say if he recognizes me?”

Josh chewed that over like he did with every word that mattered.

“I’ve kinda been avoiding it… But it’s not like he can call the police on me for being with someone I’m not related to by blood or law.

I just… I’m worried about him finding out and being disgusted.

I guess if it comes out, we’ll leave if things are uncomfortable.

I owe Paul a lot for taking me in, and I love him like he’s my real family, but I love you more than anything.

It would hurt, but I’d cut him off if I had to. You’re more important.”

I nodded, keeping my grip steady on the wheel. “Thanks. And whatever happens, happens. We’ll just deal with it.”

His hand slid across the console and rested on mine for a few seconds, warm and anchoring.

“You’ve been really good to me lately,” Josh said, eyes still focused out the windshield.

I swallowed, feeling the back of my throat tighten. “I’m trying.”

Josh looked over at me, his smile soft now, without the gummy-worm mischief. “You don’t have to try so hard. Just being with you like this? It’s enough.”

I nodded. “Even with the cock cage and plug?”

He sputtered, caught off-guard, “O-oh, yeah, y-yep. Even with… that stuff. Um… I wouldn’t want you to change that part of you. Being… you know… my… Dom…” His face was bright red.

“I know, angel,” I smirked.

He popped another gummy worm into his mouth, looking away from me.

He went back to humming a few minutes later, flipping through songs and complaining about my taste in music. I didn’t mind. I didn’t care what we listened to. I would’ve driven those two hours forever if it meant keeping him right there next to me.

* * *

The green highway signs started appearing more frequently, counting down the miles to Yakima. Josh was now squinting at the GPS on his phone as if he didn’t quite trust it.

“It says we’re supposed to get off at the next exit and then go through some industrial park… weird place for a meetup.”

I shrugged. “Probably intentional. Easier to park a ton of bikes without getting in trouble.”

After pulling off the highway, he nodded and rolled the window down farther. The wind whipped through the car. I reached over and ran my fingers through his short hair. He leaned into it unconsciously, and something in my chest pulled tight.

“Almost there now,” I murmured.

Josh grinned and leaned his head back against the seat. The whole ride, he’d had a faint blush painted across his cheeks. I was guessing that was from what was going on under his pants.

The industrial park came into view not long after.

It was all low buildings with sun-bleached signage and patches of dirt masquerading as landscaping.

At the far end, a warehouse lot buzzed with life.

I slowed the car, taking in the sea of gleaming motorcycles, patched leather jackets, and men clustered around a smoker rig that was sending out mouthwatering plumes of barbecue smoke.

Josh sat up straighter. “Wow, this is a lot bigger than I expected.”

“You sure this is it?” I asked, scanning the perimeter. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

He nodded. “That’s Paul’s bike. The one with the red tank and black skull decal.”

I pulled into the lot and parked on the edge of the space. Several of the bikers turned to look as we got out—some with mild curiosity, others with a stillness I recognized instantly. The kind of stillness that came from watching people who might be a threat.

I put a hand on the small of Josh’s back as we approached, claiming my territory.

A tall man broke off from the crowd, walking toward us with a casual stride that didn’t quite hide how carefully he was looking us over. He was older, with gray in his beard and sun-worn lines around his eyes. He didn’t look like someone I was supposedly related to.

“Paul,” Josh breathed, then smiled brightly and turned towards me. “That’s him!”

I stepped back slightly as Josh jogged the last few feet and wrapped his arms around the man. Paul hugged him tight, clapped him on the back, and grinned.

“Damn, kid,” Paul said, voice gravelly. “What the hell have you been eating? You haven’t lost an ounce of muscle since I last saw you.”

“And you haven’t lost any hair,” Josh joked, poking fun at the man’s shiny bald head.

Paul looked over Josh’s shoulder at me, his gaze assessing.

Josh turned, still smiling. “Paul, this is Dorian. My—uh, my boyfriend.”

There was a half-second beat too long before Paul extended his hand.

“Dorian,” he said neutrally. “You better be taking care of my Josh here.”

I took the offered hand and shook it once. Firm. Respectful. I didn’t bother pretending to be something I wasn’t. But I also didn’t want to be the reason this moment soured. Still, I couldn’t help gritting my teeth at another man claiming Josh as his .

Josh stepped between us like a bridge, still glowing. “You said we could crash here for a bit and catch up?”

“Yeah,” Paul said, eyes still on me. “We’ve got some suites booked at the lodge just up the road. I reserved one for you, so you don’t need to worry about driving back tonight. Food’s still hot if you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Josh said. “I thought I filled up on the gummy worms, but I guess my stomach wants something a bit more substantial.”

Paul laughed, giving Josh a fond look. “Alright. Come on, then.”

He turned, and Josh followed easily. I fell into step behind them, my shoulders loose, but my mind alert.

I hadn’t missed the slight tension in Paul’s handshake. The not-so-subtle way he looked me up and down, as if calculating whether or not I was good enough for the boy he raised.

But if he recognized me, he made no mention of it.

We wove through the sea of leather and chrome, the smell of barbecued meat growing thicker with every step.

Laughter and the low thrum of engines filled the air, a current of testosterone and camaraderie buzzing beneath it all.

Josh walked just ahead of me, animated as he chatted with Paul—his posture loose and comfortable, like he’d gone back in time to college baseball games and his first glimpse of a life without the dark cloud of the Halbrookes hovering over him.

I stayed close, yet did my best to blend into the background.

The only times I made myself known were when Josh paused to introduce himself to someone new.

I made sure I was standing near enough to touch him—a hand on the back of his neck, my fingers brushing his shoulder.

Nothing super obvious, but enough—enough that no one could miss it.

Mine.

Most of the bikers were older—forties, fifties, some with white in their beards and sunburns permanently marring their skin.

They wore their patches like old battle scars, the kind that didn’t fade, didn’t heal.

Their reactions to me varied. Some gave polite nods.

Some barely acknowledged me at all. One man— heavyset, arms crossed, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth—gave me an interested once-over and muttered, “Didn’t know Paul’s kid swung that way. ”

I smiled at him, all teeth, threatening. “Just for me.”

The man shook his head at me and let out a laugh. “Not into sharing, I take it?”

Josh missed it—he was busy laughing with a wiry man missing two fingers. Paul, however, didn’t. His eyes flicked toward me for a second before returning to Josh.

I wasn’t here to make friends or to shake hands and swap stories about how many miles my bike had on it. I didn’t care. These people weren’t permanent. There was no point in small talk if it wasn’t a means to an end.

I was here for Josh.

I watched as his face lit up each time Paul introduced him to someone new.

“You don’t talk much,” someone said beside me.

I turned and found a tall woman leaning against a railing, wearing mirrored sunglasses and a faint smirk.

“Not much to say. This is his day,” I replied, throwing a glance over my shoulder at Josh.

She nodded once, like she respected that. “Paul’s protective of him. He’s always showing us photos and talking about their time together.”

I stayed silent, having nothing to add.

“And he’s been watching you like a hawk since y’all walked in.”

“I noticed.”

She chuckled, low and warm. “He doesn’t look like it, but he’s kinda the mother hen type. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you; he’s just being cautious.”

I looked over at Josh, who was doubled over laughing at something, surrounded by a small group of people.

“Yeah,” I said, my attention elsewhere—specifically, the lanky man in the crowd with the name Firebug on his cut.

“You ride?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Not a real talkative one in general, huh? Well, enjoy the night.” Then she pushed off the railing and wandered into the crowd without waiting for a response.

Now, was it time to finally meet someone potentially useful, or was it time to surprise Josh with the fact that his plug could vibrate?

I’d always been a great multitasker.