Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

M ac

“Diesel! Off the counter, you little shit!” I snapped, balancing grocery bags on my hip while nudging the front door closed with my foot.

He froze mid-sniff, his paws still firmly planted on Rage’s kitchen counter where I’d left the remains of this morning’s bacon. His ears folded back guiltily, but he made no immediate move to obey.

“Don’t give me that look,” I warned, setting the bags down. “You know you’re not allowed to have people food.”

Diesel lowered his head, his big brown eyes blinking up at me before he let out a dramatic sigh and hopped down.

He was so dramatic.

“Good boy,” I laughed, scratching behind his ears. “Nice try, though.”

It was amazing how quickly I’d fallen into this routine of grocery shopping for two, scolding the dog about counter surfing, making myself at home in Rage’s kitchen. It had been nearly two weeks since the shooting at the clubhouse, and I hadn’t slept at my apartment once in that time.

I started unpacking the groceries, arranging things in what I thought of as my side of the fridge. Rage was surprisingly very particular about the way things were organized. Meticulous even. Proteins went on the top shelf, condiments in the door, vegetables washed and then arranged just so in the crisper.

For a man who lived life full throttle, he was oddly systematic in certain areas of his life.

“This is getting ridiculous,” I muttered to Diesel, who had plopped down at my feet, his eyes tracking my every move in case I dropped something edible.

His head tilted.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.” I sighed, pulling out a carton of eggs. “I’m living in limbo. Half my clothes are still at the apartment, my bills still go there, I buy groceries for here and there. Sarah probably thinks I’ve been kidnapped…”

Diesel yawned widely, clearly unimpressed with my existential crisis.

“Thanks for the support.” I rolled my eyes.

Truth was, I hadn’t really discussed what we were doing with Rage. After the shooting, he’d simply assumed I would stay at his place, and I hadn’t argued.

At first, I assumed it’d had been about safety. He didn’t want me alone while the Talons were still a threat. But days had turned into weeks, and now most of my toiletries had migrated to his bathroom, my scrubs were in his laundry, and I knew exactly how he took his coffee.

Yet we’d never had The Talk.

I reached into the last bag, pulling out a package I’d hidden underneath the vegetables, and smiled. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups were Rage’s not-so-secret weakness. The man was strict as hell about lean protein and vegetables (he tracked his macros, for heaven’s sake). And then there was his love for these processed sugar bombs.

I laughed as I tossed them in drawer.

Diesel’s head shot up and his tail immediately thumped against the floor at the sound of a motorcycle coming up the driveway.

“Yeah, I know,” I told him. “Your daddy’s home.”

A few seconds later, the front door swung open, and Rage strode inside. His eyes found me immediately, mouth curving into that lazy smile that still made my heart skip a beat.

“Hey, baby,” he said, coming right to where I was standing at the counter.

Before I could respond, his hands were framing my face and his mouth was on mine, hot, demanding, and tasting faintly of coffee.

I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest to grip the front of his cut.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathless and slightly dazed. “Hi yourself,” I managed.

He smirked, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” I reminded him, though I couldn’t help smiling.

“Too long ago.” He pressed another quick kiss to my lips before moving toward the refrigerator, Diesel trailing happily in his wake.

I watched as he grabbed a beer, effortlessly twisting off the cap.

He was in a good mood, which meant things at the shop had gone well.

“So,” I started, leaning against the counter. “What exactly are we doing?”

Rage paused mid-swig, brows drawing together in confusion.

Well shit. I’d meant to sorta ease into that one.

“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

“This.” I gestured between us, then around the kitchen. “I’ve been here every night since the barbecue. I’m buying groceries for your house. My toothbrush is in your bathroom.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and one corner of his mouth ticked up. “What do you think is happening here?”

“I think I’ve been practically living here.” I crossed my arms. “But all my stuff is still in the apartment. My mail goes there. I’m paying rent on a place I never see, and for all Sarah knows, I’ve joined a cult.”

“You kind of have,” he joked, setting his beer down.

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Rage. I have a home and bed of my own, you know.”

Was I forcing him to confront what was happening? Maybe, but I needed to know where his head was at. What he wanted.

His expression immediately darkened, a possessive glint flashing in his eyes as all the playfulness left him. “You sleep next to me,” he stated flatly.

My pulse quickened at his tone. “That’s not what I meant. I just—what does all this even mean? What are we doing?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before crossing to where I stood. His hands settled on my hips, anchoring me in place as he looked down at me.

“It means tell your roommate you’re moving in with me.”

I stared into his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt there. He always knew exactly what he wanted. I wish I could be as confident.

“You want me here.” It wasn’t a question.

“You heard me.” His eyes were steady on mine. “Move in. For real. Bring your stuff, change your address, redecorate if you want, the whole thing.”

A laugh bubbled up from my chest—not because it was funny, but because of the sheer relief washing through me. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” His thumbs traced small circles on my hipbones. “I already told you. You belong to me. I sleep here so you sleep here. End of story.”

Even if he was a caveman, my heart felt like it might burst. “This is a pretty big step.”

“We’ve already taken it,” he pointed out. “We’re just making it official.”

He was right, of course. We’d been playing house for weeks. The only difference was acknowledging it out loud.

“Okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’ll move in with you.”

His smile was brilliant, all white teeth and dancing eyes. He bent down, capturing my mouth in another kiss, this one slower, deeper. I pressed against him, losing myself in the feeling of his body against mine, the taste of him on my tongue.

When we finally came up for air, his eyes were dark. “Was that so hard?”

“Shut up,“ I laughed, playfully pushing at his chest. “I got you something.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows lifted in interest as I reached behind me for the package I’d hidden in the drawer.

I presented the Reese’s with a flourish. “Your favorite.”

His lips twitched as he snatched it from my fingers. “You spoil me.”

It was such a small thing, but the way his eyes lit up made my chest tight. For all his tough exterior and ‘you’re mine’ caveman antics, there was something about my badass biker getting excited over peanut butter cups.

“I enjoy watching you eat them,” I admitted. “The way you always split them perfectly in half first.”

He tore open the package, demonstrating exactly what I meant—carefully separating the top chocolate layer from the bottom before popping one half in his mouth.

“It’s the proper way to eat them,” he insisted around a mouthful of chocolate. “And it makes them last longer.”

Man logic.

I shook my head, smiling at this ritual I knew so well. It was just one of his many quirks, like how he always slept on the left side of the bed, closest to the door, or the way he folded rather than hung his t-shirts, his habit of reading motorcycle magazines in the bathroom.

“There’s something else I wanted to ask you,” I said, suddenly feeling nervous.

He popped the other half of the Reese’s in his mouth, raising an eyebrow in question.

I took a deep breath. Rip it off like a Bandaid before you chicken out.

“Would you come to Sunday dinner at my mom’s house this weekend?”

His chewing slowed, and I could see him processing the request.

“I know it’s a big ask,” I hurried on. “But I’ve been dodging my mom’s call all week, and she’s going to hunt me down if I don’t talk to her soon. Plus, this way, I can tell them about us in person. If you’re not ready for that, I completely understand?—”

“Mac,” he cut me off, swallowing. “I’ll go.”

I blinked. “You will?”

“Yeah.“ He nodded, though he didn’t look thrilled. “If it’s important to you.”

Relief washed through me. “It is. Thank you.”

He shrugged like it was nothing, but we both knew it was a big deal considering I’d already filled him in about who my brother was and how he would no doubtably act.

“Just don’t expect me to dress up,” he warned, reaching for another peanut butter cup.

I laughed, the tension breaking. “No suit and tie. I promise.”

Diesel chose that moment to nudge against Rage’s leg, his tail wagging hopefully.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rage told him, holding the chocolate well out of reach. “This’ll kill you.”

The little brat let out a soft whine, sitting and offering his paw in a practiced move that worked most of the time.

“Nice try,” Rage snorted, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Baby, grab him one of those treats from the cabinet.”

I smiled at the pair of them as I went to grab the chicken treats.

A few months ago, I never would have imagined I’d be living with the love of my life and his dog while planning family dinners and buying junk food as a love token.

As I reached for the dog treats, I caught Rage watching me, his expression soft in a way few people ever got to see.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly. “Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am.”

Heat bloomed in my chest. He was always saying the sweetest things.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.”

Diesel barked impatiently, breaking the moment. I laughed, tossing him a treat which he caught mid-air.

“So, when should we get the rest of your stuff?” Rage asked, moving behind me to wrap his arms around my waist.

I leaned back against his chest, savoring the feel of him like I always did. “This weekend? Before dinner on Sunday?”

“Works for me.” His lips brushed my temple. “I’ll see if Reign and Killer can help. They’ve been asking about you.”

“Oh?” I turned in his arms, surprised. “What have they been saying?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Reign thinks you’re too good for me. Killer likes your ass.”

“I do have a pretty great ass,” I teased.

He growled playfully, his hands sliding down to cup that part of my anatomy. “This is my ass.”

“Only yours, baby,” I promised, rising on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his.

What started as a quick touch of lips, quickly deepened into something more urgent.

His hands tightened on my bottom, lifting me easily onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his mouth blazed a trail of fire down my neck.

“The groceries,” I gasped halfheartedly.

“Can wait,” he murmured against my skin, his fingers already working the button of my jeans.

As his touch sent ripples of pleasure through me, I had to agree. Orgasms were definitely more important.

Diesel, deciding he wanted no part of our display, retreated to his bed in the corner with a dramatic sigh that made me giggle against Rage’s mouth.

“I think we’re traumatizing the dog,” I whispered.

Rage’s answering grin was nothing short of wicked. “Then let’s take this party somewhere more private.”

In one smooth motion, he lifted me off the counter, my legs still wrapped around him.

As he carried me toward our bedroom, I couldn’t help but think how right this felt. Being here, being his, making his house our home.

And judging by the way he looked at me as he laid me on the bed, he felt the same way.