Page 13 of Hard Knox

Still, while I reveled in the kiss, a tiny part of me remained aware of the surrounding night, of the life waiting for me back home—a life that felt worlds away from where I stood now, in Knox’s enormous arms. Could I really merge my calm, orderly existence with his unpredictable one? The question lingered, even as I agreed to accompany him to his clubhouse.

Chapter 6

Eliza

The rest of the ride was a blur, our kiss replaying in my mind. By the time we arrived at the Royal Bastards MC clubhouse, the butterflies had completely possessed me. Completely taken over. As we pulled up, the rumble of Knox’s bike blended with the cacophony of engines and laughter that spilled from the open doors of the club.

People affectionately knew the place as The Wild Dog. Knox explained the name itself was a tribute to its former identity, a well-loved local bar that had seen generations of riders and tales too numerous to count. Now, it stood as a home for Knox and his brothers, a symbol of continuity and camaraderie in their ever-changing world.

Outside, the lights illuminated neat rows of motorcycles, mostly Harleys, shining like steel steeds at rest after a long run. Stepping off the bike and removing my helmet, the wall of sound and energy that emanated from inside hit me. Inside the building had an aura of history. Old license plates and neon beer signs lined its walls.

A ton of bikers and their friends gathered in boisterous groups. Right away, Knox was a different person here—respected and revered. The way people greeted him, the way they looked to him. It was evident he was beyond a mere member. He was a leader.

Knox had transformed as soon as his boots hit the ground. Here, he was in his element. The respect he received magnified his stature, already imposing. Men nodded and clapped him on the back, women smiled and greeted him with an ease that spoke of long-established friendships and infatuation. It was as if he was a celebrity, and I was his unknown arm candy.

Laughter and loud conversations filled the air, along with the smell of spilled beer, leather, and an unmistakable skunky odor. I endeavored to stick close to Knox, who introduced me to a seemingly endless stream of club members, each with their own unique nickname and backstory. Despite my initial reservations, everyone seemed welcoming—until the incident.

There was an element I hadn’t expected. Women, sleek and bold, who looked like they stepped out of a music video. Or a porno. The kind of women who seemed built from the same wild mold as Knox, circulated around him. They were confident, tattooed, their tummies flat and on display. Their perfect bodies told stories of nights spent on the back of bikes, of fast and fleeting loves. They slung beers, juggled bottles, and danced on the bar in their cowboy boots and heels like this were Coyote Ugly. Next to them, I felt completely out of place—too curvy, too reserved, too rooted in a world of chalkboards and bedtime stories.

Knox seemed oblivious to the attention, his focus on introducing me, his hand resting protectively on my back. But the seed of doubt was already planted. As much as I was drawn to him, to this life he led with such fierce intensity, I couldn’t help but wonder if I truly belonged. Could a world so vibrant and wild ever really mesh with mine, one so carefully structured around stability and safety for my daughter? The question loomed large as the night grew wilder, casting a shadow over the bond that had seemed incredibly hopeful just an hour prior.

Knox, however, seemed to sense my discomfort, leaning down to whisper, “Don’t mind all the noise and fuss. They’re good folks, just a bit rough around the edges.” His voice was reassuring as I wondered could I, a single mother and a teacher, ever truly fit into this world? It was seductive and thrilling, yes, but it was also so far removed from the life I had painstakingly built for my daughter and myself.

A brother needing advice or a friend sharing a joke occasionally pulled away Knox, and I stood there amidst the revelry, feeling like an observer at a show I wasn’t sure I had a ticket to. The more I watched, the more the question grew. Could my quiet life ever really merge with the wild, untamed spirit of Knox and his Royal Bastards? The doubt cast a long shadow over the sparks that had flown between us.

The butterflies had settled down.

We had just made our way to the crowded bar area when it happened. A woman, as hot as every woman here, deliberate in her movements and with a poise that seemed practiced, collided into me, her tall draft beer spilling across my white blouse. I caught the faintest glimmer of a smirk crossing her face, confirming my suspicion that this was no clumsy mistake.

Knox’s reaction was swift and fierce. His brow furrowed deeply as he stepped between us, his body language shifting into something protective and imposing. “Dammit, Tara! Watch what you’re doing,” he snapped, his voice carrying a sharp edge that sliced through the noise of the bar. The atmosphere seemed to pause, the raucous laughter and chatter dipping into a momentary hush as the crowd sensed the tension.

Knox then turned to me, his eyes softening, the hardness in his expression melting into concern. “I’m so sorry, Eliza.” However, as he shot a stern glare over his shoulder at the woman, who merely rolled her eyes in response, I sensed there was a deeper story between them, a history that perhaps wasn’t entirely in the past.

“It’s okay, Knox. It’s just a drink,” I replied, attempting to brush off the incident with a calm I didn’t fully feel. Inside, my thoughts were tumbling—questions about this woman, Tara, and what role she still played in Knox’s life swirled through my mind, mingling with an unexpected sting of jealousy and a burning curiosity.

Without another word, Knox guided me through a door behind the bar, leading me into what I was surprised to learn was his attached apartment. The space was neat and decidedly masculine, with dark furniture and minimal decoration. He quickly took off his shirt for me and handed it over before stepping out to give me some privacy.

I slipped out of my stained blouse and into Knox’s shirt. It was large and smelled of him—a concoction of cologne and motor oil. Pausing for a moment, I took in my surroundings. Motorcycle parts were scattered on the counter, photos of the club adorned the display, a collection of motorcycle magazines rested close by, and a bong and other paraphernalia were present. Then there was the gun, not safely locked away, but haphazardly cast aside. It felt deeply personal seeing all this, and suddenly, I was acutely aware of the reality of his world—a world full of lines I wouldn’t dare cross.

Knox returned, his expression all concern and something softer. Bare-chested, Knox looked utterly amazing. His strong arms looked truly inviting, and I could see a big bulge in his jeans as he eyed me in his t-shirt.

The butterflies resurfaced, fluttering down into my belly, making me red hot and wet. Being with him tonight, having sex with this biker, seemed all too inevitable if I stayed a moment longer. And I knew me and my heart. If I gave into him, I would give my everything. My body, my heart, and soul. I wasn’t one of the women from his clubhouse. Assuming they could go to bed with a biker so lightly.

“I should go home,” I said, the words more abrupt than I intended. I needed space to think away from his bare chest and his bulge. Away from the butterflies, even though I knew they’d follow me home.

Understanding, he nodded, “Let me take you.”

He found a shirt. The ride home was nice. The roar of his Harley made it impossible for us to talk. But the chilly night did little to soothe the hormones that Knox had awakened within me. When we arrived, he walked me to the door. Under the porch light, he leaned in, and I didn’t pull away. Frankly, I was dying for another kiss.

Eager lips met mine in a kiss that was gentle at first, explorative, but it quickly deepened as if we were both starved for it. His hands were respectful, yet conveyed a longing that mirrored my own as they ran down my sides. The kiss was a promise, a perfect blend of strength and tenderness that made me question my reservations.

Knox seemed to sense it. He spoke between kisses. “Should we take this inside?”

My belly did a flip-flop as I pondered giving in. “I’m unsure,” I started.

“Ain’t a no. What’s the problem?” Knox asked against my open mouth. “Was it Tara?”

“Who’s Tara?” I pulled away slightly.

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