The Biker Goes In

I'm nineteen. A college freshman. I have no business being in a biker bar on the edge of town, but here I am, walking into a world of leather and smoke and men who don't ask permission.

Then I see him.

Thrash. President of the club. Tall, broad, silver-threaded and scarred, with hands that could break me and eyes that say he already plans to. He's older—old enough to know exactly what he wants and exactly how to take it.

And I want him to take it.

I've never been with anyone. Never wanted to be. But something about the way he looks at me—like he's already stripping me bare with those dark eyes—makes me offer the one thing I've never given anyone. No take-backs. No hesitation. Whatever he wants, however he wants it.

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