Page 17 of Fallen Dove (Fallen Lords MC 2nd Gen #1)

Adley

The night was insane. Tuesday nights at the Social Club always were, but I’d forgotten just how much Weston could pack into a bar when there was nothing else to do. Every pool table was claimed, the dartboards had a line, and the jukebox was blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd like it was a law.

I’d been weaving between tables for hours with trays balanced, my arms aching, all while smiling when I didn’t want to. By ten-thirty, I thought my feet might actually give up on me and crawl away without the rest of my body.

So when I slid a tray of empty pint glasses onto the bar and Penny called.

“I’ll watch your tables for a minute,”

I didn’t even argue. I just nodded, ducked my head, and made my way toward the back door.

The second the heavy door shut behind me, the noise dropped away, replaced by the hum of the air conditioning unit and the quiet hum of crickets in the distance. I leaned against the brick wall, tugged the tie out of my hair, and let the cool night air hit my sweaty neck.

God, I needed five minutes of silence.

The door creaked behind me.

I turned my head, expecting one of the girls, but it wasn’t.

It was Mason.

He stepped out like he belonged in the shadows. His broad shoulders had his dark cut stretched over his tee and his boots thudded against the concrete. The faint light above the door caught in his hair, and for one long second, all I could do was stare.

“You okay?”

he asked, voice low, almost lost under the hum of the unit.

I swallowed, nodded.

“Yeah. Just needed air.”

He let the door swing shut behind him, cutting off the music completely. He glanced toward the lot, then back at me with his jaw tight.

“Thought I’d check the trash bins.”

“Uh-huh,”

I said. I looked past him where the trash bins were.

“Still there.”

His mouth tipped into something that wasn’t quite a smile, wasn’t quite serious either.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

One step forward from him. One from me.

Then I was in his space. Close enough to smell the leather and soap on him. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body even in the cool night.

“Mason,”

I whispered, but I didn’t even know what I was asking.

He answered anyway.

His hand slid around my waist, firm and certain, and he pulled me flush against him. His mouth crashed onto mine, hot and urgent, and every ounce of restraint I’d been pretending to have went up in flames.

I gasped into the kiss, then melted as I pressed closer while my fingers clawed into the cotton of his shirt as if I could hold him there forever. His lips were rough, demanding, and moving against mine like he’d been starving for this as long as I had.

I parted my mouth, and he groaned low, and deepened the kiss. His tongue slid against mine. Heat shot through me, and curled low in my belly. My hands spread across his chest, up over his shoulders, and my nails scraped lightly at his neck.

He pressed me back against the wall, the rough brick biting through my thin shirt, but I didn’t care. Not when his body was pressed so tight to mine. Not when his thigh nudged between mine. Not when his hands slid beneath my shirt, and his fingertips burned against my bare skin.

I moaned into his mouth, my name catching in his throat in reply. “Adley-”

It came out strangled, and desperate, like he was fighting himself even as he kissed me harder.

God, this was madness. Sneaking out here knowing at any second someone could open that door. Knowing we had no business touching each other like this. But it didn’t stop me. It didn’t even slow me down.

I pressed up onto my toes, chasing his mouth, and he gave it to me. Rough, hot, and everything I’d craved for fourteen years and more.

The door rattled behind us.

We jerked apart, both of us breathing like we’d run miles. I shoved my hair back from my face with my chest heaving, and Mason ran a hand down his beard. His eyes were wild but already cooling into that stoic mask he wore so well.

The door didn’t open. Whoever it was had moved on.

We stood there, silence stretching.

“I should get back inside,”

I whispered, my voice shaking.

“Yeah,”

he said, but his eyes stayed on me, dark and hungry, like he was memorizing the moment in case it was the last.

I forced myself to turn first, to grab the door handle and slip back inside.

The noise of the bar slammed into me, but it barely registered. My lips were still tingling, and my body still humming.

Jesus.

Mason was going to ruin me.