Page 6 of The Biker’s Single Mom (Fox Ridge MC #5)

"Say it again," he demands, teeth grazing my earlobe. "Say my name."

"Daniel," I repeat, the word a prayer and a plea. "Daniel, please."

His movements grow more urgent, less controlled. I can feel his restraint slipping, feel the moment when he gives himself over to the raw need between us. He shifts my leg, opening me further, driving deeper with each thrust.

"Come for me," he growls. "I need to feel you."

The command pushes me over. I cry out as pleasure crashes through me, more intense than before, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He follows immediately, his arm tightening around me as he drives deep one final time, my name a rough prayer on his lips as he finds his release.

For long moments, we lie tangled together, catching our breath. I feel him press a kiss to my shoulder, unexpectedly tender after such raw passion. When he finally withdraws, I turn to face him, suddenly shy despite what we've just shared.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes softer than I've ever seen them. "You okay?"

I nod, unable to find words for the storm of emotions churning inside me. He pulls me against his chest, one hand stroking lazy patterns on my back. The steady thump of his heart beneath my ear is oddly comforting.

"I've never..." I start, then stop, unsure how to continue.

"Never what?" he prompts gently.

"Felt like that," I admit. "So... free."

His arms tighten around me, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. "Good."

We lie in comfortable silence for a while, our breathing synchronizing, our bodies cooling. I trace the lines of a tattoo on his chest, following the intricate pattern with my fingertip.

"Tell me something," I say finally. "Something real."

He's quiet for so long I think he might not answer. Then: "I haven't wanted anyone in my life for a long time. Not until you."

The simple honesty of it steals my breath. "Why me?"

"Because you're brave," he says, his voice low and certain. "Because you fight for what matters. Because when you smile, it feels like the first sunrise after a long winter."

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by his words. "I'm scared, Daniel."

"Of me?"

"No." I shake my head against his chest. "Of all this. The violence. The danger." I swallow hard. "I don't want Violet growing up surrounded by it. I left Carlo to protect her from that world."

His body tenses slightly beneath me. "You think the Riders are like Ricci?"

"No," I say quickly. "But there's still violence. Still blood. I saw it on your hands today."

He shifts, tilting my chin up to make me look at him.

"The world is bloody, Daisy. I won't lie to you about that.

But there's a difference between the men who spill blood for power and the ones who spill it for protection.

" His eyes hold mine, intense and uncompromising.

"Violet will never know fear again. Not while I'm breathing. "

The fierce certainty in his voice makes my throat tight. I want to believe him. Want to believe this could be more than a temporary refuge.

Before I can respond, a sharp knock sounds at the door.

"Steel," Hawk's voice calls. "We've got a situation."

Daniel sighs, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before pulling away. "Give me a minute," he calls back, reaching for his jeans.

I wrap the sheet around myself, suddenly cold without his warmth. He dresses quickly, efficiently, but his eyes never leave mine.

"I'll be right back," he promises, slipping out the door.

I use the moment alone to gather myself, to process what just happened between us. My body still hums with satisfaction, small aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me when I move. But beneath the physical contentment, anxiety churns.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to care for him, to crave his touch, to want more than just his protection. I came to Fox Ridge running from one man; I didn't expect to fall into the arms of another.

Daniel returns too quickly, his expression grim. "Get dressed," he says, tossing me my clothes. "We need to move."

"What's wrong?" I ask, fear immediately sharpening my senses.

"Carlo Ricci is personally coming to Fox Ridge," he says, his voice flat. "His men called him after our encounter today. He's bringing reinforcements."

The news hits me like a physical blow. "No," I whisper, guilt flooding through me. "This is my fault. I've dragged you all into this—"

"Stop." Daniel crosses to me in two strides, taking my face in his hands. "This isn't on you. This is on him for not letting go of what isn't his."

"But the Riders—"

"Are exactly where they want to be," he cuts me off. "Standing between innocent people and men who would hurt them."

"Daniel—"

"You're not a problem, Daisy," he says, his voice dropping to that low, intense register that makes my stomach flip. "You're mine. That means he goes through me first."

The possessive claim should frighten me. Should remind me of Carlo and his suffocating control. But Daniel's words feel different, not a cage, but a shield. Not ownership, but belonging.

And in that moment, I admit to myself the truth I've been resisting since I first saw him in that garage, covered in grease and glowering at the world: Daniel Stone isn't just my protector.

He's already my home.