Page 76 of Kneeling to Candy

Once at his door, I swing the damn thing open. It hits the wall with a loud bang.

Inside Butch’s suite, I find him surrounded by Punk, Tank, and Ziggy. Judging by the guilty looks on their faces, it appears Butch recruited some biker minions to help him commit the crime.

Squatting in front of my dresser, Butch shoves the last of my drawers closed. He quickly rises to his full height to face me as I enter the room, his expression hard and determined. The other guys gawk at me with a mixture of fear and suppressed humor.

“TA-DAAA!” Punk opens his arms wide, giving me jazz hands. “Welcome home.”

“Looks good, right?” Tank asks, taking in his handy work with a pleased nod. “Your stuff is already tucked away where it belongs.”

“‘Where it belongs?’” I seethe. My body overheats—I’m certain my face is beet-red with rage.

Ziggy folds his arms across his chest with a little harrumph, giving Butch the side-eye before addressing me. “I tried to reason with him, Candy. But he pulled his trump card. None of us could refuse him.”

“Why the hell not?” I ask through clenched teeth, stalking further into the room.

The guys take a collective step back as I come closer, their faces growing more worried about my mounting disapproval. A bunch of bikers clustered together in fear would be funny if I wasn’t ready to draw blood.

The only brave one in the group is my biker, standing apart from his brothers. Brave or stupid, I’m not sure. Butch meets my gaze with a heated look of his own. He’s pissed, too, but I swear he looks horny as hell, eyeing me up and down like he can’t wait to get me naked.

And then he throws a curveball, catching me off guard.

“I told them you’re my old lady.” He points a finger between the two of us. “You belong with me, in this space—not across the hall.”

My anger falters, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. As much as I’ve longed to hear them, they sound foreign, impossible.

“You what?” I croak out in disbelief, my anger simmering on the back-burner.

My biker must see something in my response he likes. His shoulders relax.

“I claimed you, Goddess.” He smiles wickedly, knowing he has the winning hand in this argument.

A thrill of excitement runs along my spine at hearing his words.

Oh, I’m going to wipe that smug smirk off his face—by sitting on it.

“Claimed you say?” I fold my arms across my ample chest. “Since when?”

Raising an eyebrow, Butch gives me one last challenging look before he slips away from the group, retreating into his walk-in closet. He returns a few seconds later with a small leather jacket in his grip. He shakes out the coat, holding it up in front of me with both hands.

On the back of the leather biker jacket is the red Mercy Ravens MC conspiracy of ravens logo, with Goddess embroidered across the top and Property of Butch embroidered at the bottom of the logo.

“Since last year, when you invited me into your secret hiding space,” he confirms in his rough and tumble voice.

“Last year?!” I practically shriek.

Why the hell didn’t he claim me publicly back then? Why wait?

Reading my mind, Butch answers my unasked questions. “Had to wait for you to claim what was rightfully yours.”

Oh, sweet heavens.

This man waited for me to come to my senses and see what was standing patiently in front of me all this time.

My heart is in my throat. “Butch…”

Before I can finish my thoughts, telling him how badly I’ve wanted him for so long, he sucker punches me back into bitch mode.

“Yeah, well, today you pushed me too damn far. I may be the fucking saint of patience, but even I have limitations. This…” he waves his hand around the room and all our belongings mixed, “…this is me taking ownership of what I’ve denied myself for far too long. I’m done waiting for your fine ass to move in. This is happening, ready or not. You’re my…” he gives me a cocky, triumphed smile, “…property.”

---