Cruz:
The rumble of my bike echoed through the lot as I pulled into the Midnight Phantoms clubhouse. I killed the engine, but the roar stayed in my chest.
Something in me hadn’t shut off since I’d walked away from her.
I swung my leg over the bike and took a breath, forcing my shoulders to roll loose. But it didn’t help. My body was still strung tight with the memory of her—how she looked curled up in bed, breathing soft, trusting me without needing words.
That kind of thing didn’t leave a man unchanged.
I shoved through the clubhouse doors, the familiar scent of smoke, sweat, and stale beer hitting me hard. Voices quieted for a second when I walked in—barely noticeable, just a beat—and then conversation resumed. But I felt it.
Eyes on me.
Knox, leaning at the bar, arched a brow as
