In My Obsessive Biker Stepbrothers’ Embrace

ALYSSA "Do you love Alyssa more than me?" That was the first thing I heard, stepping into the alleyway just behind the backdoor of Velvet Groove. I wouldn't have been moved, if the person responding to that question wasn't my boyfriend. "Of course not," Blake said with a scoff. My head darted to the right and I saw him, humping a lady against the wall. My throat went dry as I stood, rooted to the ground. My vision blurred. Blake cooed something into her ear that earned him a giggle from the chick. My skin prickled at the sound of their nefarious laughter that mingled with harsh, disgusting moans. He'd cheated on me. Again. And this time, I wasn't taking it. My legs moved faster than I thought, closing the gap between us in the alleyway as I pried him off his lady. "Get off her, you disgusting—" My palm connected with his cheek before I even finished the sentence. The sound cracked through the alley, sharp enough to make the woman yelp and stumble back, clutching her chest like she was the wronged one. "Alyssa—" Blake's hand flew to his face, more shocked than hurt. "Don't." My voice shook, but I didn't care. "Don't you dare say my name." "It's not what it looks like—" "It's exactly what it looks like." I laughed, and it came out uglier than I meant it to. "You're a cheap, spineless cheater, Blake. A joke. I actually defended you to my friends. I actually believed you when you said last time was a mistake." The woman had already scurried off, her heels clicking a fast retreat down the alley. Blake reached for my wrist. "Baby, let me explain—" I yanked away before his fingers could land. "Don’t you f*****g touch me!" Something in my face must have convinced him I meant it, because he dropped his hand, his jaw ticking. I turned on my heel and walked back through the door before he could get another word out. The noise hit me first, a wall of sound that swallowed the ringing in my ears. I pushed through the crowd toward the bar, blinking hard, refusing—refusing—to let a single tear fall in front of all these strangers. "Whatever's strongest," I told the bartender, sliding onto a stool. He raised a brow but didn't argue, setting a glass in front of me a minute later. I threw it back in one go, wincing at the burn, and immediately gestured for another. By the third one, the ache in my chest had dulled into something looser, warmer. Reckless. I ordered a fourth anyway, and then I chugged it down my throat again. The floor was pulsing with bodies by the time I abandoned the stool, my heels unsteady beneath me as I wove into the crowd. I didn't care that I couldn't feel my face properly, didn't care that the room tilted a little when I moved too fast. For the first time all night, I wasn't thinking about Blake's hands on someone else's waist. I was just moving, letting the music shove every thought out of my skull. That's when he found me. Or maybe I found him—I couldn't say, later, whose idea it had been first. One second I was dancing alone, and the next there was a hand settling low on my hip, unhurried, like he had every right to be there, and I turned into it instead of away. Dark hair, sharper jaw than any man had a right to, and a coldness in his eyes that didn't match the chaos around us at all. He didn't smile. He didn't say a word. He just moved with me, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him through my dress, one hand splayed at the small of my back like he was memorizing the shape of it. I should've stepped away. But I didn't. His mouth dropped near my ear, his breath warm against my skin, and even though he said nothing at all, something low in my stomach ignited anyway, hot and unfamiliar and entirely inconvenient given the state of my night. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt without my permission. For one dizzy, drunk moment, Blake didn't exist as I danced and moved with this mysteriously hot stranger. Then a hand closed around my arm and spun me around, and there he was again, ruining it. "Alyssa, we need to talk." Blake's voice was low and urgent, his eyes flicking past me to the stranger still standing there, with his jaw tight in a way that almost looked like jealousy. "Who is that?" "None of your business." I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. "You're being crazy right now. Just—come outside with me, five minutes, let me explain—" "You're the jerk here, not me." I shoved his chest, hard enough that he stumbled back a step. "You don't get to grab me and call me crazy in the same breath. Get away from me, Blake." When I looked back, the mysterious hot stranger had disappeared into the crowd again, leaving my body aching for his touch. It felt weird that I was craving his callous fingers on my back even though I’d only been dancing with him for minutes. Frustrated, I yanked myself away from Blake’s grip and headed in an opposite direction. That’s when my eyes caught them. Two men near the edge of the dance floor, ink crawling up both their forearms, the kind of gorgeous that made people actually stop and stare. One had a lazy, knowing smirk already aimed my way, like he'd been watching the whole thing unfold and found it entertaining. Something reckless and furious uncoiled in my chest. Blake’s not the only one who can play dirty. I crossed the floor before I could talk myself out of it, curling a hand into the front of the closer one's shirt. "Hi," I said, and kissed him before he could answer, tasting whiskey and his awe on his mouth. He recovered fast, kissing me back like it was the easiest thing in the world. His hands shot up to my throat as he held it firmly, kissing me till I was breathless and succumbing to him. I pulled back with all my might even as my mind swirled, turned, and did the same to the other one, who laughed against my lips like this was the best thing to happen to him all night. When I finally faced Blake again, his expression had turned furious, exactly the way I wanted it. "There." My chin lifted. "Guess you’re not the only one who can be bad." "Are you—what is wrong with you—" "Calm down," I mimicked him. "Let's talk about it later, yeah?" He reached for me again, and I stepped back, already moving, already scanning the room for something else, someone else, anything to keep this high burning. I didn't wait to see Blake's reaction. I turned and walked, fast, deeper into the club, past the bar, past the crowd, toward a narrow hallway tucked behind a velvet curtain where the music dulled to a muffled thud. A bouncer stood near a door at the end of it, but he was distracted, laughing at something on his phone, and I was too far past caring to knock. I shoved the door open. The room inside was low-lit and heavy with smoke and music bleeding through the walls, a private lounge stitched together from leather couches and low gold light. A handful of people were scattered around it, drinks in hand, laughter loose and unbothered—and at the center of it, sprawled back against the couch like the room existed for his comfort alone, was him. Sharp jaw, dark hair pushed back and a cold yet fiery look to his face. Two women were perched over his shoulders, and he wasn't looking at either of them. It was him. The same hand that had settled on my hip in the middle of the dance floor. The same silence that had said more than words could. My stomach dropped and ignited at once, the same low heat from minutes ago flaring right back to life. Every head in the room turned toward the door I'd just barged through, but his gaze was the only one that actually landed on me and stayed—and there was something almost amused in it now, like he'd been wondering how long it would take me to find him again. I still didn't know his name. I found, standing there, that I wanted to. "Everyone out," I said to the room and the women curled around him, my voice steadier than I felt. "Give us a minute." Nobody moved until his eyes flicked away from me, just briefly, just enough. A small tilt of his chin. That was all it took—the women peeled off him without a protest, the others rising and filing out past me, until the door clicked shut and it was just the two of us and the muffled music through the wall. I didn't let myself think twice. I crossed the room and lowered myself onto his lap, curling into the space at his side like I belonged there, his arm going rigid beneath me. "Play along," I whispered against his ear, my heart slamming so hard I was sure he could feel it. "Pretend to be my fake boyfriend, just for a few minutes. I'll make it worth it." His eyes — dark, assessing and faintly amused — swept over my face like he was deciding whether I was worth the trouble. He didn't answer. He didn't have to. His hand settled at my waist like it had always belonged there, and something about the ease of it made my breath catch. The door burst open a second later, Blake breathless and red-faced, having clearly badgered his way past the distracted bouncer. "Alyssa, what the hell—" "Meet my new boyfriend." I nestled deeper into the stranger's arm, chin tilted up in defiance. Blake's mouth fell open. "You're joking." "What?" I said sweetly. "You didn't really think you were the only one who could play dirty, did you?" "This is insane, you don't even know him—" The man beside me finally spoke, his voice low and unbothered, cutting clean through Blake's sputtering. "I think you should leave." A flick of his fingers toward the still-open door, and two men in leather stepped through it, closing in on either side of Blake. "Get your hands off me—" Blake's protest dissolved into a yelp as they hauled him toward the exit, his voice swallowed by the music before the door even shut behind him. Satisfaction bloomed hot and vicious in my chest. I'd done it. I'd actually done it. Payback did feel good. "Thank you," I breathed, already moving to stand, the alcohol and adrenaline leaving me lightheaded. "Really. I owe you one." But his arm banded around my waist before I could rise, pulling me back down, deeper into his lap this time, until I could feel the solid heat of him at my back. His face dropped to the curve of my neck, breath warm against my skin, one hand sliding slow and deliberate along my thigh. "We're not done yet, love," he murmured. His voice was a low rumble that I felt more than heard, and every nerve in my body lit up at once.