Page 44 of Property of Tacoma

I should tell him no.

I should remind him that his club and my brother’s club are business partners, and this could complicate everything.

Instead, I find myself melting into the kiss, my free hand sliding up to grasp the front of his cut.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both gasping for air.

“Stay,” he says again, his voice rough with desire. “Just for tonight.”

I know I’m going to regret this.

Getting involved with a biker is a bad idea.

Risking my heart again is a bad idea.

But I nod anyway. “Okay.”

A slow, triumphant smile spreads across his face, and he presses another quick kiss to my lips.

“City!” he calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off me.

A prospect appears in the doorway. “Yeah, Prez?”

“I need you to go to Kitties and bring Foxy’s RV back here.” He holds out his hand, and I hesitantly place my keys in his palm. “Then take this little guy to my parents’ place.”

I carefully extract Panda from my shoulder, kissing the top of his furry head before handing him over to the prospect. “Be good,” I tell him, though I know it’s probably a lost cause.

“I’ll take good care of him, ma’am,” City promises, looking slightly nervous as Panda clings to his shoulder.

As the prospect walks away with my keys and my pet, I turn back to Tacoma. “I need to call my brother.”

He nods, pulling me back toward the clubhouse. “Use my phone in the office.”

I follow him inside, hyperaware of the eyes that track our movement across the room.

Some are curious, others stare, knowing exactly what’s happening between us.

Tacoma leads me to a door markedPresidentand ushers me inside, closing it behind us.

The office is surprisingly neat—a large desk with a leather chair behind it, filing cabinets against one wall, and a comfortable-looking couch against another.

He hands me a prepaid phone from his desk drawer. “Use this. It’s clean.”

I take it, our fingers brushing in the exchange, sending another jolt through me.

As I dial Mason’s number, I wonder what the hell I’m going to tell him.

The truth?

That I’m staying because I can’t seem to walk away from a biker I just met?

That would go over well.

Not.

The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” I say, turning slightly away from Tacoma’s piercing stare.