Page 75 of Her Possessive Bikers

Tres walks over, his jeans hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless, and I can’t help but admire the way his muscles move under his skin. “You’re all here slacking off while I’m doing paperwork.”

“You call that paperwork?” Jacoby teases. “Looked more like a nap to me.”

“Shut it,” Tres says with a smirk. He turns to me, his eyes softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come.”

Kyler puts an arm around my shoulders. “It’s been one hell of a year.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, glancing at the small house beside the compound. The contractor who rebuilt Dad’s house did a fantastic job on this place too, despite being scared shitless of Tres.

“Remember when he thought you were going to deck him for asking about the paint color?” Jacoby laughs.

Tres chuckles. “He looked like he was about to piss himself.”

“Can’t blame him,” Kyler adds. “You do have that effect on people.”

Tres shrugs nonchalantly but there’s a hint of pride in his eyes.

I hop onto the weathered picnic table, crossing my legs and leaning back on my hands. The late afternoon sun warms my skin as I watch my boys work.

"Y'all don't mind if I supervise, right?" I call out, grinning as Jacoby flexes dramatically.

"Show off," Kyler mutters, but there's affection in his voice. He catches my eye and touches the silver band on his finger - the one that matches mine legally.

The men decided it was best to decide who would be legally married to me “the clubhouse way.” I said hell no to the suggestion of russian roulette, and they finally decided on a good ole game of chicken. Needless to say, Kyler was the victor. But I’m pretty convinced he would have willingly wrecked his own bike just to win.

I smile, thinking about our backyard ceremony three months ago. The clubhouse had never looked more beautiful, decorated with fairy lights and wildflowers. All three of them standingthere in their cleaned-up kuttes, looking at me like I hung the moon.

"Before I forget," I say, watching them work, "the supply room needs restocking. Being the clubhouse medic keeps me busier than the rescue squad ever did."

"That's because these knuckleheads can't go a week without getting into trouble," Tres says.

"You love it though," Jacoby points out. "Admit it - patching us up is more exciting than dealing with regular civilians."

"Maybe," I concede, thinking about how right he is. Trading in my paramedic badge for a permanent place here, with them, was the best decision I've ever made. "But you guys could try being a little more careful."

"Where's the fun in that?" Kyler asks, coming over to press a quick kiss to my temple.

I stretch and climb down from the picnic table. "I'm heading home to start dinner. You boys better not be late."

Jacoby winks. "Wouldn't dream of it, darlin'."

"Do you need some help with dinner?" Kyler asks, but I wave him off.

"Nah, I got it covered. Just finish up here and come home hungry."

Tres pulls me in for a quick kiss. "Love you, beautiful."

With dinner finished, I curl up on our oversized leather couch, pretending to read but really watching the clock. My stomach flutters with nervous excitement. The pregnancy test hidden in my back pocket feels like it's burning a hole through my jeans.

The rumble of motorcycles makes me smile. Right on time.

They file in one by one - Tres first, then Jacoby, then Kyler. Each one gives me a kiss before starting to shrug off their kuttes.

"Hold up," I say, setting my book aside. "Can y'all sit down for a minute? I need to ask you something about motorcycles."

Tres raises an eyebrow but takes his usual spot in the armchair. Jacoby sprawls on the couch next to me while Kyler perches on the arm.

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