The Bikers forbidden claim

Princes

Mara

I was stirring the pasta sauce when I heard his bike pull into the garage.

My entire body went rigid. The wooden spoon froze in my hand. I kept my eyes on the pot, on the tomato sauce bubbling gently and refused to acknowledge his presence even as every nerve ending in my body screamed that he was there.

His boots sounded heavy on the kitchen tile.

"I didn't know you could cook, Princess." Zander said.

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. If I turned around and saw him looking at me the way he usually did, I'd lose whatever fragile composure I'd managed to build over the past day.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," I said, my voice steady even though my hands were shaking.

"Like how you're a pro at using someone and discarding them?"

The words landed like a slap.

I turned slowly, the wooden spoon still in my hand. He was standing in the doorway, still in his cut and his expression unreadable. There was something different about him though.

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I knew exactly what he meant.

"Didn't you do the same thing to me in the garage?"

"Why are you mad that I played your game?" I cut him off, my anger rising.

"You walked away from me on that concrete floor without a word. You left me there like I was disposable. You made me feel like what happened between us meant absolutely nothing to you. So why are you upset that I decided to protect myself by doing the same thing?" I snapped.

Zander stepped closer and I stepped back instinctively, bumping into the counter behind me. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

"You think what I did in that garage was the same as what you did in my kitchen?" His voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "You think leaving you to process what happened is the same as telling me I was nothing?"

He sounded genuinely angry with me.

"You made me feel like I was nothing," I shot back, my voice shaking now with the force of everything I'd been holding back. "You touched me like I mattered. Like I was important. Like I was the only thing you could think about. And then you walked away without looking back. You left me on my knees on cold concrete and told me to go home like I was some disposable thing you'd used up." I reminded him in case he forgot.

He was right in front of me now, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body and smell the leather.

"I didn't discard you," Zander declared, and there was something broken in his voice. Something that made my chest ache.

"I walked away because I couldn't stay. Because if I stayed, if I looked at you one more second after what just happened, I would have done something that destroyed everything. I would have claimed you right there on that concrete and I would have made it impossible for either of us to pretend this doesn't mean something."

I opened my mouth to argue but he continued.

"You walked away from me too," he said. "You tried to make me feel like what happened between us meant nothing. You treated me like I was disposable. And do you know what that felt like? Do you have any idea what it felt like to be treated like I was nothing by the one person I actually let in?" Zander asked, running his hands roughly through his hair.

"Zander…" I managed to call, not sure what to say next.

"I'm done playing games," he said, and his voice was final. "I'm done pretending, Mara.

I am done letting you hide from this. From us."

Then he kissed me.

It wasn't like the garage. It wasn't aggressive or possessive or designed to prove a point or establish dominance. It was slow, deep and full of something that made my chest ache.

His lips moved against mine like he was trying to communicate everything he couldn't say with words.

It felt like he was pouring years of want, restraint and feeling into this one moment.

I grabbed his cut, pulling him closer, and he groaned against my mouth.

When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together.

"Turn off the stove," he said quietly.

I reached over with trembling hands and turned off the burner and the pasta sauce stopped bubbling.

His hands found the hem of my shirt and he pulled it up slowly and deliberately.

It was like he was unwrapping something precious. The fabric slipped over my head and fell to the floor.

I was not wearing anything else inside.

Zander's eyes darkened as he took me in fully.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his hands coming up to cup my breasts. His touch was worshipful.

He held them like they were something sacred, his thumbs circling my n*****s slowly. I gasped at the overwhelming sensation.

"Zander…" I groaned, pleasure shooting straight to my brain.

"Shh," he said. "Let me have this. Let me worship you like you deserve to be worshipped Mara.” He coerced. I was too gone to say anything else so I just nodded.

The practiced restraint from earlier has dissolved to nothingness.

He lowered his head, his mouth closing around one of my n*****s. I arched into him, my hands finding his hair and gripping it.

Zander sucked my t**s gently, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak.

The sensation shot straight down to my core, making my p***y clench with want.

He switched to the other breast, taking his time and making sure both got equal attention. His hands roamed down my ribs, my waist, my hips.

It was as if he was mapping every inch of me, like he was learning me for the first time.

He touched me like I was the most important thing he'd ever touched.

"You're so perfect," he whispered against my skin. "Every part of you is perfect. Your body, your strength, the way you push back at me.”