“Knox?” I ask, brushing my fingers through the back of his hair.
He lifts his head and looks at me like I just punched him in the gut. “We’ve got to go back to the club.”
He slides me off his lap and settles me behind him on the bike.
“That was the last time I can do that for a week,” he says as he hands me the helmet. “You’re going to have to stay in one of the other rooms.”
I blink at him. “Wait. You’re serious?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, but the tightness in his jaw tells me everything. Then it hits me. The rules Hex mentioned. The whole ridiculous, tradition-based probation where he’s not allowed to touch me for a week.
“I can still take you to work and back,” he mutters. “But I need to check with Echo on the details.”
“You better check,” I say, leaning close to his ear. “B
