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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE SUNLIGHT STREAMING through the thin curtains was harsh, too bright, too intrusive. My eyes fluttered open, the weight of sleep still heavy in my limbs. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, then the faint, lingering musk of Spinner’s cologne pulled me back.

He was next to me, stretched out on his back, one arm flung carelessly above his head. The other rested lightly against my hip, his hand warm and rough against my skin. I turned my head to look at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark scruff that framed his mouth, and the way his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Peaceful wasn’t a word I’d ever thought I’d associate with Spinner, but at that moment, it fit.

I wasn’t used to waking up next to someone, not like this. Not with the quiet, the calm, and the absence of regret.

“You eyein’ me ‘cause you want another round, or tryin’ to decide if you should bolt?” His gravelly voice, still rough with sleep, made me jump.

A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me running so you could chase me.”

His eyes cracked open, a slow, lazy smirk spreading across his face. “Damn right I would. But I’d catch you, Luck.”

His hand shifted, his thumb brushing against my bare skin, sending a shiver through me. I swatted at him playfully and rolled out of bed before things could escalate. We’d gone at it three times last night—I needed to recover. “You’re too smug for your own good.”

“Yeah?” he drawled, sitting up and stretching, the blanket sliding down to reveal his sexy as hell body. “Pretty sure you like me this way.”

I threw him a look over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. “Don’t push it, Spinner.”

Spinner laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made my stomach flip, and I hated how much I liked it. And as I stepped into the shower, hearing the curtain rustle behind me, I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. I knew I was getting in too deep, but for once, I didn’t care.

The clubhouse was alive by the time we made it downstairs, my shower having taken longer than it should have thanks to Spinner.

The scent of coffee and bacon filled the air, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the occasional burst of laughter. The kitchen was crowded, and it seemed all eyes were on us.

“Mornin’, lovebirds,” Brenda called from where she sat with Fiona, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Morning,” I muttered, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck.

Spinner, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on it. “Mornin’, Brenda,” he said with a grin, his hand settling on the small of my back as he guided me toward the food. The casual possessiveness of the gesture shouldn’t have made me feel as safe as it did.

A few of the guys were already gathered at the long table, plates stacked high, laughter echoing through the room. Thunder lifted his mug toward us. “Look who finally crawled outta bed.”

Spinner snorted. “You jealous, Thunder? Thought you had better things to do than clock my wake-up time.”

“Not jealous,” Thunder shot back, grinning. “Just impressed you’re still standin’ after last night.”

Spinner didn’t reply, just smirked and grabbed two plates, loading them up with eggs, bacon, and toast before handing one to me.

“Thanks,” I said softly, the simple gesture catching me off guard.

“Gotta keep you fed,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t need you keelin’ over.”

I followed him to the table, the laughter and ribbing fading into the background as we sat. Spinner stayed close, his knee brushing mine under the table, his presence solid and steady like it had been the night before. Every so often, his hand would rest on my thigh—not in a demanding way, but like he needed to remind himself I was there.

Or maybe he thought I needed the reminder. Either way, it worked.

The banter around us ebbed and flowed, but I stayed quiet, watching and listening. This world still felt foreign, even if Spinner made it seem less so. The men here were hard, scarred by life in ways I understood all too well. But there was something else, too—a loyalty that ran deep, binding them together like steel.

My gaze locked with Ashlynn’s, and in that moment, I swear I felt my own damn eulogy being written. She knew what went on in Spinner’s room last night—hell, everyone probably did. I’m guessing this place has thin walls, and I felt myself trying to remember just how loud we’d been. My cheeks burned as memories of the night replayed in vivid detail. Yeah, we’d given plenty of audio.

“You okay?” Spinner’s voice cut through my thoughts, low enough that no one else could hear.

I glanced at him, at the keen eyes that didn’t miss a thing, and nodded. “Yeah. Just... getting used to everything.”

His lips quirked, and he leaned closer, his voice a rough whisper. “You don’t gotta get used to anythin’ you don’t want to, Lucy. But if you’re thinkin’ of boltin’, just remember, I’ll chase you.”

For the first time in too many years to count, I didn’t feel like running. Instead, I let myself smile, small and hesitant, but real.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”