Page 6

Saylor

I woke slowly, and my mind was like fog on a windshield. My head felt clearer than before, but that wasn’t saying much. It was quiet—too quiet for a clubhouse full of rowdy bikers—and the room was dark except for a narrow sliver of light that spilled out from beneath the bathroom door.

Water ran on the other side.

A shower sounded amazing right now. My body ached in places I didn’t even remember getting hit, and I felt the grime of the last forty-eight hours cling to me like a second skin. But the thought of walking in there—of seeing Pirate in the shower—gave me pause.

Did I want to shower with Pirate?

The thought surprised me. Caught me totally off guard. Ever since he’d been there when they loaded me into the ambulance, something had shifted. I’d been seeing him differently. Not just as the brooding biker who was always around. No, now I saw him as the man who’d held my hand when everything hurt, who didn’t leave even when I told him I’d be fine.

Crazy. Completely, undeniably crazy.

I pushed myself up slowly, and every muscle groaned in protest. I sat on the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the floor. I wiggled my toes against the cool wood. With a sigh, I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and tried to make sense of everything that had led me here.

To Pirate’s bed.

What the hell had the last two days even been?

Before I could spiral too far into my own thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the soft golden light spilling into the room. And there he was.

Pirate.

Backlit by the bathroom light, with water still glistening on his chest and a towel slung low on his hips. His hair dripped onto his shoulders as he rubbed a towel over his head.

Oh. My. God.

My brain short-circuited. Muscles, tattoos, that stupidly smug expression—it was like someone had conjured the perfect image of temptation and dropped it right in front of me.

“You’re up,” he said. His voice was rough and low, with a slow drawl that made my already-fuzzy thoughts even worse. He kept drying his hair with the towel and was completely unbothered by the way my jaw might’ve been unhinged.

I blinked and shook my head to try to force my eyes up to his face instead of… everywhere else. “Uh, yeah. I guess I’ve finally slept enough.”

He chuckled and stepped farther into the room, switching on the lamp on the dresser. The softer light was easier on my eyes, but it didn’t make him any less distracting.

“Adalee and Fallon brought dinner a little bit ago,” he said, and nodded toward the dresser. A tray sat there, loaded with two big bowls of something delicious-looking and a half loaf of crusty bread. “Hopefully it’s still warm. Hungry?”

As if on cue, my stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear. I gave a sheepish smile. “Uh, I could eat.”

“I’ll bring it to you.” He grabbed the tray with one hand and set it gently on the bed next to me.

The steam rising from the bowls smelled amazing—rich, savory, and comforting in a way that made my chest ache just a little. “This looks amazing,” I said and reached for one of the bowls.

Pirate handed it to me without hesitation, and his fingers brushed mine for a second. I got a whiff of him—clean, fresh, warm. Like soap and steam and something undeniably male. It was a scent that would ruin me if I wasn’t careful.

He tore off a chunk of bread and placed it carefully on the edge of the tray. “You good here? I can bring in a table if you want it.”

I shook my head and tried not to inhale his scent too deeply again. “I’m good right here. Is the movie over?”

He laughed as he walked back toward the bathroom. “Yeah, baby. We both passed out not even ten minutes in.”

I smiled as I dipped a piece of bread into the soup, and the broth soaked into the crust. I heard him moving around in the bathroom.

A few moments later, he walked back out. Jeans slung low on his hips, a plain white T-shirt clinging to his damp chest, and his feet bare. Casual and devastating.

He grabbed his bowl and dropped onto the couch. “Is it good?” he asked.

“I haven’t taken a bite yet. What time is it?” I asked.

“Almost seven.”

I scooped up a spoonful of soup and brought it to my lips. The warmth, the flavor—it was like a hug from the inside. “Oh, wow. That is amazing.”

He nodded. “Everything Adalee makes turns out amazing.”

“I can see why she’s opening a bakery.” I ripped off another hunk of bread and dunked it in. “I’m assuming she made the bread, too.”

“Yup. She’s always got something baking in the oven, it seems.”

We ate in comfortable silence with just the soft clink of silverware and the occasional slurp of soup breaking the stillness.

Pirate glanced over. “How are you feeling?”

I gave a dry laugh. “Like I was hit by forty dump trucks.”

He winced. “So not good.”

“Well, this morning it felt like fifty dump trucks, so I guess it’s a little better.” I smiled and tipped the bowl to drink the last of the broth.

“Hopefully it stays that way, baby. Though from my experience, the third day is always the worst.”

I glared over the rim of my bowl. “Don’t put that juju on me, Pirate.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully it’ll be different for you. If not, Sloane and Aero went and got your prescription filled after dinner.”

“Hopefully I can make it through with just Tylenol.”

He gave a small shrug. “Maybe.”

I finished my bowl and set it back on the tray. Pirate collected his and stacked the empty dishes.

“I can help with cleanup,” I offered, and shifted to get up.

“Nope,” he said quickly. “You’re resting. That’s the deal.”

“Bossy.”

“Damn right.”

He disappeared out the door and left it open. When he returned, he grabbed the remote and flopped back onto the bed.

“Want to watch another movie?”

I laughed softly. “You think we’ll make it past the first ten minutes this time?”

He grinned. “Only one way to find out. What’re you in the mood to watch?”

I leaned back and slowly stretched out until I was lying on my side, with my head propped on my hand. “Anything’s good.”

He flipped through the movies before settling on Top Gun. “Classic,” he said and turned off the lamp. The room fell into a cozy darkness, with the TV casting a soft blue glow over everything.

My heart did a weird flutter at how normal this all felt.

Comfortable. Familiar. Dangerous.

“Good?” he asked.

As good as I could be, beat to hell and now curled up in bed with a hot biker who smelled like heaven and looked like sin.

“All good,” I said quickly.

“Let me know if you need anything, baby. I know you know your way around the clubhouse, but I’m here.”

Oh, I knew. I was very aware that he was here. His presence filled every inch of the room and every breath I took.

We watched the movie for a bit with the volume low. I did nothing today besides eat, but I felt myself being dragged back under again. The exhaustion was like a blanket pulling me down.

And somewhere between Maverick and Goose buzzing the flight tower, my eyes drifted closed.