Page 7

CHAPTER

SIX

DEMI

Conan has always had a rule when it came to his bike, unless he’s serious about you in the relationship and you are old lady material in his eyes, you didn’t ride on the back of it.

Imagine my surprise this morning when he woke me up and told me to get dressed.

He had a requirement for my attire of blue jeans, boots, thick shirt, and after he listed those things, he walked into my closet, pulled out my old leather jacket that'd seen better days, and tossed it on the bed as I was dressing.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I ask, “Am I riding with you today?”

He stops in his steps and peers over at me from over his shoulder, asking, “Are you mine?”

“Yes,” I answer, feeling bold and sassy, I tack on, “according to you, I am.”

“Only according to me, huh?” He’s not offended by my choice of words, if anything, he’s amused. This is why he’s the man I’ve decided to give a shot because he simply gets me and doesn’t let my hard exterior and lack of verbiage control wind him up.

“No,” I whisper, hiding the smile fighting to break out. “Me too.”

“Now that it’s settled, could you get a move on? I’ve got church and I want to pull up to the clubhouse with you on the back of my bike,” he states.

“A statement, huh? That’s mighty bold of you.” I smirk.

“An important one, Demi. And it’s not bold, it’s essential to your status.”

“I know, Conan. I’ve been around, I understand how things work in the MC.” The ‘essential’ part of his announcement is because it’ll show the club bitches that I rank way above them and they need to watch their steps as well as what they say to not only me, but about me.

To the Deviant Knights, that’s a big deal. I can hold my own, fuck knows I’ve trained for anything coming at me in a physical way, but I’m no longer living solo in my world so I have to let him be in charge—sometimes.

“Then you know why it’s a needed one,” he grunts. “Stop stalling, woman. I’ve gotta get to church.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” I chime, hastening my steps.

Since he hasn’t given me a lot of time to do my ‘girly’ routine, I slap some powder on my face, toss on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss before plaiting my hair.

This is as good as it gets when I’m running behind and on a time crunch.

Again, not my fault because he let me oversleep knowing we had to be on the road no later than nine.

A lady can make herself look decent enough to walk out the door in twenty minutes, but it takes time if she wants to be a showstopper. And I’m definitely not that right now.

“Ta da,” I sing as I twirl around once I make it to the living room, jacket tossed over my forearm as I walk over to my purse, pulling out my keys and wallet, pocketing them.

Arms wrap around me from behind, banding themselves around me as I’m tightly pulled into his chest. “I like you this way. More natural. Your beauty shining through all of that caked up shit you slather on your face, fucking gorgeous, Demi.”

“Thank you,” I choke out in a low tone. The things he says to me and the way he speaks to me is unlike anyone before.

Man, woman, and child, nobody has made me feel good about myself, until him.

I’ve been placated and lied to, mostly by those of the opposite sex who want a night or two wedged between my legs, but Conan is sincere in everything he says—you just know he means it.

He isn’t known for holding back his thoughts, if he doesn’t like something, he says he doesn’t, if he does, well, you know that in different ways, like now. He makes himself known.

When he pulls back, he laces his fingers with mine and escorts me out of the apartment, locks it up, tests the door several times to make sure it’s secure, and hand in hand, we get to his bike where he reaches into his saddle bag and pulls out a second helmet.

“I got this a while back,” he informs me. “Gotta protect that noggin of yours.”

“My noggin thanks you,” I tell him, reaching out and plucking it from his hands.

From there, he gives me the important do’s and don'ts with the piping and how to hold onto him.

After being educated on that topic, he secures the helmet to my head, the entire time a blinding smile paints his face.

This makes him happy, so I decide then and there, that anytime we go someplace together—we ride.

As we glide into the clubhouse parking lot, we pull in with an audience in attendance.

I chuckle, because somehow, I know he’s planned it to play out this way.

My thoughts are confirmed when he swings his leg over and holds out his hand for me.

When I accept it, he helps me off, removes the helmet, and lays a scorching kiss on my lips.

“Marking your territory?” I tease, unable to keep the smile from that declaration at bay. It’s plastered across my face wide and proud.

“Just be glad I didn’t whip my dick out and pee on you,” he jokes.

“You’re kidding, right? You wouldn’t really do that. Right, Conan?” I need him to clarify that shit for me—as soon as humanly possible because I’m kinda freaking out at the prospect of finding myself the recipient of a golden shower.

“If the situation called for it, I would,” he says, and the cherry on top of that sundae is that he’s one-hundred percent serious.

Leaning into him so nobody else can hear what I’m about to say, I hiss, “Try it. I dare you. You’d be one ball short and an inch or two shorter.”

“All I need is one ball, Demi. And size doesn’t matter, and while we’re on that subject, I have more than the typical man so losing a little length won’t make a difference.”

“You’re insane, Conan. You need to seek medical help. Stat.” I don’t comment on his size because he’s more than standard, he’s right about that, but I refuse to say anything that’ll have him gloating.

“Nah, baby. I’m not insane, I’m confident and know what I’m packing,” he reasons.

“Church!” Kodiak bellows, his head hung as his shoulders shake from his chuckling.

I let go of Conan’s hand and march past his brother, hissing, “I’m glad you find this amusing, Kodiak.”

“You’re good for him, you know that don’t you?” Kodiak asks. “You keep him in check and bring him down on the same level as the rest of us.”

“He is so full of himself,” I mumble. “I often wonder if he’s going to float away from his inflated ego.”

“It’s a protective mechanism,” Kodiak enlightens me. “You can thank my parents for him being the way he is.”

“I can hear y’all you know,” Conan expresses, coming up behind us and smacking my ass before jogging off, head thrown back in laughter.

I rub my rump and shoot daggers at him with my eyes. “He’s impossible.”

“He’ll never change,” Kodiak warns me. “But if anyone can reel him back, it’s you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a job I’d have chosen for myself,” I counter.

“But it’s yours. You agreed to it, am I right?” Kodiak asks, being cheeky.

“Shut up,” I snap, shaking my head. “Where’s Luna?”

“Did you agree, Demi?” he continues, stopping us and twirling me around to face me. “He did ask, Demi. Fuck, please say he asked.”

“He did, I accepted. What can I say, Kodiak, I was high on endorphins.”

“Leave it up to Conan to hit you up when you’re in a state of sexual bliss to ask you that,” he sighs. “Nevertheless, you said yes so you’re stuck with him, Demi. Prepare yourself, it’s going to be the rockiest ride of your life.”

“That’s not funny, Kodiak. Take it back,” I demand, stomping my foot.

“I’m afraid there are no take backs when it comes to my baby brother, Demi. Trust me, I demanded my parents return him to the stork, they refused telling me there are no returns once a baby has been delivered.”

“Damn stork,” I snort, finding our conversation hilarious. “Where’s Luna? You failed to tell me after I asked earlier.”

“She’s in the kitchen. Something about missing the smell of cake,” he informs me, a confused look on his face. “I don’t get it, just yesterday I picked one up for her from the bakery she likes and she devoured it in one sitting. You can’t miss something you’ve just had.”

I sympathetically pat him on the shoulder, Luna’s pregnancy hormones are out of whack. “So she’s baking?”

“She is,” he confirms.

“Do you have insurance, Kodiak?”

“I do. Why are you asking me that, Demi?” He’s suddenly on alert, his entire body stiff as a board.

This time, I’m the one who will make him look to the sky for patience and salvation when I tell him, “Let’s just say she’s a master at cooking, baking… not so much.”

“Fuck.” He hangs his head and I can mentally see him counting to ten. “You got this, Demi?”

“I got this, Kodiak. Go run your club and wrangle in those misfits you call brothers.”

He scurries away like the hounds of hell are nipping at his heels. I laugh and it turns into hysteria when I walk through to the kitchen and see Luna standing over the stove, eyes wide as saucers.

“What did you do?” I ask her, hands on my hips while biting my bottom lip.

“I think I caught the brandy on fire,” she says, tears leaking from her eyes.

“Why are you using liquor for cake, Luna?”

“I found a recipe I thought the guys would like,” she parries.

“Where’s the fire?” I ask, glancing around, not seeing one.

“In the oven, Demi. What should I do?”

“Put it out!” I shriek, running over and sure enough, the damn thing is ablaze. “Baking soda, get it for me, Luna.”

She finds it in a cabinet and pitches it to me.

It hits me square in the chest, momentarily stealing my breath.

Damn, she could’ve gone pro if she had a dick swinging between her legs.

I yank open the oven door, slather the baking soda inside and keep it open.

The fire detectors start going off as the kitchen bellows with smoke.

This is going to be fun to explain to the guys. Because I know, in a few short seconds, they’re going to come storming in.