Ride And Obey MC

Seventeen

Knox POV

She’s hesitant. Not just about tonight or the club, but about everything. It’s written all over her face, in the way she plays with her napkin, how she avoids looking at me too long. She’s not just unsure—she’s torn.

“Knox,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. There’s something cautious in it, like she’s afraid to remind me. “You do remember I’m in a relationship, right?”

I laugh quietly and nod. “Yeah, I remember. Pretty clearly, actually. That relationship is the reason you were screaming my name last night.”

Her face flushes deep red as she covers it with both hands, groaning like she wishes she could sink through the floor.

I lean back in my chair and let her have the moment. I’m not trying to humiliate her, but I’m also not going to pretend this wasn’t real. We didn’t fake that connection, no matter what kind of rules she thinks she’s following.

“I’m not saying you need to run off with me, leave your man, or start tattooing my name on your skin,” I say calmly. “I’m just saying maybe you should let yourself have some fun while it’s still your choice to make.”

The truth is, I want her. Badly. And I’m not just talking about the s*x, though that part’s burned into my memory so deep I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way she looked under me. I want more than just another night. I’m thinking if I keep showing her what it feels like to be wanted, to be seen, she’ll start to realize she deserves a hell of a lot more than whatever cold shoulder her boyfriend gives her.

When she asked me what Grudge said, I saw that flash of panic in her eyes. That kind of fear doesn’t come from nowhere. So I lied. Told her all he said was that she left. She doesn’t need to carry the shame of what happened when she panicked. I don’t want her thinking I see her as weak. Because I don’t. I see a woman still learning how to stand after being knocked down too many times.

What she needs to know is I’m not going anywhere.

Greg, her manager—or maybe the owner—keeps shooting me looks from across the room like he’s one more uneaten bread roll away from kicking me out. I’ve been eating slow on purpose. I wanted the time. Wanted her sitting across from me long enough to feel like maybe this isn’t something she needs to run from.

Her shift’s almost over, and her break time is coming up, I can tell. She’s starting to glance toward the clock behind the bar.

“I should get back to work,” she says, standing slowly. Then she pauses, her eyes meeting mine again. “I’ll come tonight, yeah?”

I smile and nod, sitting back like I hadn’t just waited two hours to hear that. “Well, if you’re gonna come by, then I guess I can finally get out of this chair.”

“You seriously dragged out your meal just because I hadn’t said yes yet?” she asks with a laugh, shaking her head like she can’t believe it.

I shrug with no shame. “I wanted to lock in my date for the night. Can you blame me?”

I lean forward just a little, smirking as I lower my voice. “Don’t worry, it’s just for fun. I’m not showing up tonight with a ring in my pocket.”

Her laughter is real this time, a little freer, and it hits me right in the chest. If I push too hard, I’ll scare her. If I pretend it means nothing, she’ll never come back. So I have to play the line. Let her think it’s casual until she’s ready to admit it’s not.

“Okay,” she says, already turning to walk away. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I watch her go, letting my eyes trail after her until she disappears into the back.

Then I settle in to finish the last of my food. It’s gone cold, but I don’t care. I paid for it, and I’m not about to waste it. Even if Greg looks like he’d love nothing more than to march over here and shove it down my throat just to get me out the door.

I keep eating, slow and steady, taking my time with every bite even though the food’s long gone cold. It’s not about the burger anymore. It’s about staying right here. About watching her move across the floor like she’s trying not to let anything slip, not her smile, not her nerves, not whatever the hell’s going on in her head.

She doesn’t look at me, but she knows I’m watching. I can see it in the way she straightens her apron every time she walks past. The way she smooths her hand over her hair when she glances toward my table. She’s trying to act like nothing’s changed, like she didn’t sit across from me ten minutes ago and agree to come back to the club tonight.

But I see her.