Page 88 of Filthy Hot

“Are you going to continue?”

I wrap my fingers around the side of her neck and grin. “Club rules are that I don’t have to tell you shit, and what happens at the clubhouse stays at the clubhouse,” I state. Her cheeks flush from my words, and I’m sure she’s ready to say some shit to me, but she doesn’t need to say a damn thing. “I’m not going to continue, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

“Monogamy?” she asks on a whisper.

“Damn fucking straight. You and me for as long as it’s good.”

“And if it turns bad?” she asks.

“We fix it until it’s good again.”

And that’s that. No further discussion needed. Kyle is my person. Simply mine.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

KYLE

Rider is standing right outsideof the bakery, his phone in his hand as he does whatever he does on his phone. I think he’s playing games, but he says he doesn’t do that. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he’s doing because he doesn’t text as quickly as his fingers are moving over the screen.

“How are you doing?” Shawn asks as she makes her way toward me with a little plate in her hand.

My eyes widen at the sight of the plate. It’s got whoopie pie style cookies on it, sweet buttercream frosting with a chocolate chip cookie on each side. “It’s not paleo. It’s vegan, though, and grain-free,” Shawn murmurs as she sits down next to me.

“I’m okay,” I say, my gaze shifting over to the window to stare at Rider’s back for a moment, the colorful patches that claim he is part of the Dark Horse MC sewn on the back. He has a matching tattoo, and I’ve traced it with my tongue. It was hot. He’s hot.

Swinging my attention back to meet hers, I give her a smile, and she laughs softly, reaching out before she wraps her fingersaround my wrist and squeezes. “The good that they give, it makes up for all of the bad, doesn’t it?”

I almost don’t ask her. I mean, she’s just had a baby, and she seems so blissfully happy. What if she doesn’t know what happens down there? What if she doesn’t know about the women? And worse, what if her husband is one of the ones who believes in thewhatever happens at the clubhouse stays at the clubhousemotto?

I open my mouth then snap it closed, then open it again before I snap it closed again. “What do you want to ask me, Kyle?”

“It’s not my place,” I whisper.

Shawn leans back in her chair, her gaze flicking from me to Rider’s back, then back to me. “Is it about Vixen and the girls?” she guesses.

And she’s absolutely right.

“How do you do it?” I ask.

“Do it?”

Nodding, I shift in my seat. I think about taking the whole whoopie cookie and shoving it in my mouth as an attempt to keep from answering her question. But I don’t do that, so I have no choice but to answer her.

“Live your life down here, doing your bakery thing and being home with the baby. How do you do it knowing that those women are down there, ready at any given moment?”

Shawn’s gaze searches mine for a moment, and I think that maybe I’ve offended her, so I open my mouth to apologize, but she speaks first, and my lips close, pressing together and rolling nervously as I listen to her speak.

“My story is long, complicated even. A lot of things went down, but one thing that never changed was Elvis’ dedication to me. Now that’s turned into love. He saved me, but beyond that,he allowed me to also save myself. He chooses me just as I do him.”

“The women?” I ask.

Shawn smiles, shaking her head. “They are his past. I am his present, and I’ll be his future.”

I like that. I like that a lot.

“You’re not afraid?” I ask on a whisper.

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