She was right. I knew she was right. But could I do it? Could I give her that freedom? And trust her not to fuck it up?

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I trust you.” Her lips graze my chest and then she scrambles into my lap like an excited kid. “But you fuck this shit up, you betray that trust and go running off to the nearest fuckin’ dealer, and you don’t come back here.”

“I won’t let you down. I promise,” she says and snuggles her head into my chest. I sigh.

Such a fuckin’ chump.

I drape my arm around her waist, and find myself kissing the top of her head. She gives a contented little sigh and within minutes she’s softly snoring. I stroke her hair and sink farther into the couch, afraid to wake her. She sleeps so fitfully most of the time, like that bastard’s still haunting her dreams. So I let her sleep. I watch the show, not really knowing what’s goin’ on, but I get invested anyway, and I grow hard when I see the little bit of girl-on-girl action. I fantasize about waking Ivy up so she can suck my cock, but I don’t, because as much as it might kill me, that isn’t what she needs right now. I’m not what she needs.

“Come on, Warrior Princess,” I say, cradling her in my arms as I stand and start walking down the hall.

She lifts her head and smiles sleepily at me. “Where are we going?”

“To bed.”

“But you passed my room already,” she says, as she tucks her head in against my chest.

“To my bed,” I say.

“I like your bed,” she murmurs.

“Me too.” Especially when you’re in it. I carry her into the room and lay her on the bed. I strip off my leather jacket and my shirt and jeans as Ivy watches through amused sleepy eyes.

“Like what you see, babe?”

“Nah, you’re too bulky for me,” she teases.

“Bullshit. You like ’em big, just like you like ’em rough.”

“It’s true. I do like that.”

“You can’t lie to me, Ivy. I got that pretty little head of yours all figured out.” I tap my forehead for emphasis.

“You do, huh?”

“Yep,” I say, and crawl up the bed towards her. I cage her in between my forearms, and then I slowly peel off her clothing so she’s completely naked. My dick’s hard and I want up inside her sweet fuckin’ pussy so bad my balls are turnin’ blue, but I know she’s not interested in fuckin’ me. She’s made that real fuckin’ clear. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna give up an opportunity to have her naked in my bed though. I roll her onto her side and tug her back against me, cupping her tits from behind.

She laughs softly. “I thought we were just sleeping?”

“We are. I just like a little bit of tit to hold as I drift off. I got mummy issues.”

“You’re a fucking pervert.”

I chuckle and press a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades, and I hold my woman as she drifts off to sleep. Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t realise it yet, it doesn’t even matter if she doesn’t love me back. Ivy belongs to me. And I’ll be fucked if I let anyone take her away from me. Not my Prez, not my brother Kick, not Killer or the rest of my club brothers, and certainly not her fucking piece-of-shit father. She’s mine. And I don’t care if I have to gut every last one of them. I will. To protect what’s mine, I’d do much more, and they better hope to hell it doesn’t come to that.

Tank slides his stubbled rough jaw through my wetness, and I cry out. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I sink my fingers into his scalp and moan, writhe, and quake as his tongue darts out to lick my clit.

“Harder.” I pant.

“No,” he says against my flesh and continues licking me softly, reverently. I whimper and rock my hips, sliding my pussy against his face, seeking more pleasure mixed with pain. He pulls his head back and circles his massive arms around my thighs, placing his hands on my lower abdomen and pinning me against the mattress.

“Wake up, Warrior Princess,” Tank whispers in my ear, and the dream dissolves around me into nothing, into bright light and reality and frustration.

I open my eyes, lift my head and glare up at him. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Princess. Heard that one before.”

I flop back against the pillow and grind out my dissatisfaction against the damp sheet. Fucking destroyer of dreams.

“Get up. We’re going somewhere.”

“Can’t we go later?”

“No. Now get up before I drag your arse into that shower without turnin’ on the hot water.”

“Sometimes I really hate you,” I mumble, and close my eyes, but when he climbs off the bed and stomps over to my side, I shriek and I’m up in a heartbeat, racing him to the en suite. I hold my hands up to ward him away. “I’m up! Fuck!”

Tank chuckles and leaves me to my business. Jesus Christ, he’s a scary fuck sometimes. I’m surprised I didn’t pee myself just trying to escape him.

When my heart rate has returned to normal, and I’m showered and dressed, I head out to the kitchen. Grabbing a cup from the mug tree on the bench, I turn the coffee machine on, annoyed that he hasn’t already done it, but Tank comes up behind me and takes the mug from my hand. “You ready to leave?”

“Can I at least have a coffee first?”

“Nope. We gotta get on the road. It’s a two-hour drive from here.”

“You want me to ride with you for two hours without a coffee?” I ask. “You don’t value your life very much, do you?”

He just winks and walks off, munching his apple. “You’ll need a jacket,” he says over his shoulder, and I give him a two-fingered salute.

I grab my jacket from off the bar stool and head out after him. Tank smiles as I walk down the stairs towards him. He looks as if he wants to devour me, which I guess isn’t that different—that’s how he always looks at me—but there’s a new intimacy to it that leaves me a little breathless.

He already has the bike beneath him in the driveway, jacket zipped against the weather, and helmet on. He slips on a pair of aviators and grins as if he’s up to no good. I pause, uncertain I really want to go any further but then he hits the button on the remote and I have to run for the door so I don’t get locked in.

Arsehole.

He’s fucking chuckling again as I stalk over to him and punch his arm. All my fingers crack at once. Stupid motherfucking giant. One day I’m going to kick his arse. Though I may need to master some kind of martial arts before that happens.

Tank revs the throttle. The sound vibrates through me. I love that sound. I close my eyes and take it all in: the primal grunt from his bike, the smell of exhaust, and leather, and … Tank. Interesting. I sigh and place my hands on his shoulders as I swing my leg over and nestle into the seat behind him. Slowly, I move my hands to his waist, resisting the urge to sink my fingers into the hard muscles flanking his sides. Tank places his hands over mine and moves them a little lower, until they’re resting on his hard cock. I laugh, and then I take back my hand in order to put on the helmet he passes to me from the handlebars. When I’m buckled up, I rest my hands on his sides and press my body closer, anticipating that first jerk of momentum that has a way of pulling you backward when you take off. He twists the throttle and we shoot forwards, down the long drive and onto the dirt road leading away from his property.

I tuck my head in against his massive shoulder and preen at the feel of wind rushing over my body. I may not know how to handle this thing we have going on between us, and I may not know how to get clean and stay clean, but this? This I know how to do, and being on the back of Tank’s bike seems as natural as breathing.

Close to two hours later, we pull into a quiet little seaside community. The houses are mostly all cottages as we drive through one end of the quaint little town, though they start to get progressively bigger the further we drive. Tank makes a left turn and we ride up a narrow, winding road only big enough for one car. On the top of the hill sits a big old-fashioned house, white with blue shutters. It’s the nicest house I think I’ve ever seen. Traditional, Victorian and … home. I know that sounds weird, considering I’ve never laid eyes on the property before, but there’s something oddly comforting about it.