The Biker’s Obsession

Chapter One My poor car died with a sad, sputtering cough. It left me completely stranded on the side of the dark, lonely highway like a total fool. I smacked the steering wheel hard and let out a frustrated groan. “Great. Just great.” No signal. Flat spare. No tow truck until morning. The only lights for miles belonged to the Iron Reapers’ clubhouse. I knew better than to go there. Everyone in this town knew better. But freezing to death in the middle of the night wasn’t an option. The wind howling outside my window was freezing cold, and my jacket was far too thin. I locked my car doors, tucked my purse tightly under my arm, and started walking down the dark road. By the time I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bar, my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The air inside hit me all at once. It was thick with cheap smoke, strong whiskey, and heavy leather. Huge bikers in black cuts filled every corner of the room. Painted skulls and sharp scythes stared at me coldly from the backs of their vests. I looked down at my simple clothes—faded jeans, a plain white tank top, and a thin cardigan. I felt completely out of place, like a mouse walking straight into a den of wolves. I swallowed my fear, walked straight up to the sticky wooden bar, and tried to steady my voice. “My car broke down a few miles back. No signal. I need help getting it fixed or towed.” The bartender didn't even look up to help me. He just slowly jerked his chin toward the far, dark end of the room. “Talk to the President.” That was when I felt it—a heavy, burning stare that made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. Stone. Even if he hadn’t been wearing the patch that marked him as the leader, I would have known it was him. He had massive shoulders, thick arms covered in dark ink, short dark hair, a neat beard, and eyes so black they seemed to swallow all the light in the room. A jagged scar cut straight through his left eyebrow. He looked like pure sin and danger wrapped in thick muscle. He didn't hesitate. He stood up from his booth and started walking straight toward me. Every single man in his path moved out of the way without a word. He stopped right in front of me. He was so close that I had to tilt my head way back just to meet his eyes. “Lost, little dove?” His voice was deep, rough, and dark. It slid down my spine like a physical touch. “My car broke down,” I said, trying hard not to sound as nervous as I felt. “I need help.” His dark eyes dragged slowly down my body—starting at my face, moving over my mouth, my throat, the soft curve of my chest, and the way my jeans hugged my hips—before climbing back up to my eyes with clear, undeniable hunger. “You walked into an Iron Reapers bar alone, looking like that…” He leaned in close, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl. “You must be f*****g stupid.” Hot blood rushed to my cheeks and settled heavy in my stomach. “I didn’t have a choice.” Stone’s mouth curved into a slow, wicked smile. He reached out a large hand and brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His rough fingers lingered against the side of my neck, right over my wildly racing pulse. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but the raw possession in it made my breath catch in my throat. “Repairs take time,” he said softly. “Especially at night. You’ll stay here until morning.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command. Almost immediately after he walked away, the other men started circling me like sharks in the water. A tall, bearded biker stepped up and offered to buy me a drink. I shook my head and refused. Another man leaned in far too close, his eyes locked greedily on my mouth, and asked if I wanted some company upstairs. My face burned with anger as I told him no. More men approached. Some were smooth and smiling; others were blunt and crude. Every single time, I turned them down. I wasn’t interested in any of them. There was already someone else locked deep inside my heart. Stone watched everything from across the room. Every time another man approached me, his expression grew darker and much more lethal. After the third rejection, he pushed off the bar and walked back over, stopping so close that his broad chest almost brushed against mine. “You’ve been turning every man in this room down,” he murmured, his eyes locked fiercely on mine. “Including some of my best brothers. That takes either a lot of courage… or a special kind of stupidity.” I swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. He leaned down until his lips were nearly touching my ear. His warm breath ghosted softly over my sensitive skin. “Keep looking that tempting and someone in here is going to decide you need a lesson,” he said, his voice dropping low and filthy. “Lucky for you, I’m in a generous mood tonight. No one touches you while you’re under my roof… unless I say so.” He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again. The intense heat in his stare made my knees feel weak. “You’ll sleep in one of the guest rooms upstairs. The door locks securely from the inside. If anyone bothers you… scream. I’ll handle it personally.” Then he turned his back and walked away, leaving me standing alone with my pulse racing wildly and my skin still burning from his heavy touch. A young prospect led me upstairs to a small, clean guest room. The bed was neatly made, and there was a private bathroom attached. I locked the heavy wooden door the exact second he walked away. I took a long, hot shower, trying desperately to wash away the smell of smoke and the tension clinging to my skin. When I stepped out wrapped only in a towel, there was a soft knock at the door. I opened it carefully, keeping the chain lock on. A younger biker stood in the hallway—one of the men who had hit on me earlier and got rejected. His expression was tight, angry, and hostile. Without a word, he shoved a folded pile of clothes right into my arms. “President’s orders,” he muttered, his eyes flicking over my towel-clad body with clear resentment. “He said you needed something clean to wear tomorrow.” Before I could even open my mouth to thank him, he turned around and walked away, his jaw clenched tight. I closed the door, locked it again, and looked down at what Stone had sent me. It was a soft, oversized black long-sleeve shirt. It was clearly his—it still carried the faint, intoxicating scent of his woodsy cologne and worn leather. Underneath were a pair of dark jeans that looked much closer to my actual size, and even a brand new pair of simple underwear with the tags still attached. My face burned bright red. I put them on. The shirt was huge on me, hanging loosely off one shoulder and falling all the way to mid-thigh, but it wrapped around me like a blanket smelling entirely of him. It felt like he had somehow marked me as his, even while I was locked safely alone in the room. I lay down on the mattress, surrounded completely by his scent, and tried to force myself to sleep. Sleep didn’t come easy. Chapter Two The next evening, I stood in front of the small bathroom mirror in the guest room, staring closely at my reflection. Stone’s big black shirt still hung loosely on my frame, but I had rolled the sleeves up past my wrists and tucked the front neatly into the waistband of the dark jeans. My hair was still damp from another long shower. I looked entirely different. Softer. Like I had been claimed, somehow, even though I hadn't agreed to anything. I took a deep, shaky breath and walked downstairs to face the crowd. The bar was even louder and more chaotic than it had been the night before. Heavy music pounded through the floorboards, and thick smoke hung heavy in the air. The exact second I appeared at the bottom of the wooden stairs, several heads turned in my direction. I felt the heavy weight of their eyes on me—especially on the way Stone’s shirt hung off my body, advertising to everyone whose roof I had slept under. I kept my head down and started heading toward a quiet, empty corner. Then the front heavy door swung open, letting in a draft of cool night air. Tyler walked in. He had his arm wrapped tightly around a pretty blonde woman with bright blue eyes and a wide, easy smile. She was laughing out loud at something he whispered in her ear, leaning into his side like she belonged right there in his arms. He was looking down at her with a soft, warm expression—the exact way I had always dreamed he would look at me. My heart cracked open so hard and fast that it completely stole my breath. All the quiet, foolish hope I had carried around inside my chest for two long years shattered into a million pieces in a single second. I felt utterly stupid, invisible, and completely broken inside. I turned around quickly, blinking hard against the stinging tears so I wouldn't cry in front of a room full of dangerous strangers. Suddenly, a large, solid wall of a body blocked my path. Stone. He didn’t say a single word at first. He just stood there, looking down at me with sharp black eyes that took in every single trace of pain written across my face. Then his dark gaze dropped slowly down to the way his oversized shirt hung on my body, and something dark, fierce, and deeply satisfied flashed in his expression. He stepped closer, crowding me tightly against the wooden wall with his much larger, muscular frame. One of his heavy hands came up and rested flat against the wall right beside my head, caging me in completely. “That the one?” he asked, his voice low, rough, and dangerous. I couldn’t force myself to answer. My throat was squeezed shut, too tight to push any words past my lips. Stone’s free hand moved up. He took my chin firmly between his rough, calloused fingers and forced me to look straight up into his face. His grip was steady and possessive. Almost gentle… but not quite. “You’re standing here looking like someone just ripped your heart straight out of your chest and left it bleeding on the floor,” he murmured, his eyes burning into mine. “And every single man in this room is still watching you fall apart… including me.” My pulse was racing wildly under the pressure of his fingers. He leaned in closer until his lips were right next to my ear. His warm chest brushed gently against mine with every single breath he took. “I don’t like seeing you like this,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet rumble that only I could hear. “So here’s what’s going to happen, little dove.” My breath hitched in my throat. “I’m going to pretend to be your man.” His rough thumb stroked slowly, deliberately across my lower lip. “Right in front of him. In front of every single person in this bar. You’re going to wear my patch. You’re going to stay right here in my clubhouse. And when that little boy looks over at you again, he’s going to see clearly that you belong to someone who actually knows how to handle a woman like you.” Heat flooded my cheeks and rushed rapidly down through my body. “Why?” I whispered, my voice trembling. Stone pulled back just enough to meet my eyes head-on. The intense heat blazing in his stare made my stomach flip over. “Because the idea of you walking around this town looking heartbroken pisses me the f**k off,” he said with brutal honesty. “And because the second I laid eyes on you last night… I already decided I wanted a taste.” His thumb pressed a little harder against my lower lip, silencing any argument I might have had. “So what do you say?” His voice dropped into a low, filthy growl that sent shivers straight down my spine. “You want to play this game with me… or are you still too f*****g scared?” My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs that I was completely sure he could feel it vibrating through us both. I looked up deep into those bottomless black eyes and whispered the only word my mouth knew how to say. “Yes.” A slow, wicked smile curved across Stone’s mouth—the dangerous smile of a man who had just gotten exactly what he wanted from the very beginning. “Good girl,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips nearly brushed mine. “Now let’s go make sure he sees exactly who you belong to.”