Page 75 of Raiden

The eggs in the cast iron frying pan sizzle on the wood stove in front of me. Just outside the window in the small kitchen, the trees surrounding the cabin are waving softly in all their vibrant autumn splendor.

As soon as the front door bangs open, my attention is yanked from the window and the stove. Eggs hold no allure when there’s a sweaty, half naked man who just walked in, and that man isn’t just any man.

My eyes trace Raiden’s tight pecs and cant down lower to the grooved muscles of his sinfully gorgeous abs. His sweats are seated low on his hips, showing off half of that prominent Adonis V to an advantage that just isn’t fair.

As usual, Raiden grins like a devil over me standing here pretty much drooling over him.

He walks past me to the stove and takes the frying pan off before our breakfast turns into a charred black mess. There’s a hotplate on the butcherblock countertop that he places it carefully on, but he doesn’t move to get plates out. Instead, he steps into my path, throws his sweaty arms around me, and hugs me to his drenched chest.

“Oh my god!” I make a show of mock trying to shove him away.

He’s having none of it and he knows I’m not really either. He tilts my face up and slants his mouth over mine. The fact that he’s slow and gentle and not blazing hot with the intensity of devouring me tells me that he’s got something on his mind. Whatever it is, I hope he tells me soon so I can rip those sweats clean off his beautiful body.

He kisses harder and deeper, savoring the little whimpers I make before he releases me, his hands on my arms to steady me. I’m right by a hot woodstove and my legs are pretty much like jelly. I need all the steadying I can get.

“Happy birthday, El. I never knew it was possible to fall deeper in love with someone every day, but I do. You’re more beautiful to me with every passing year.”

I thump his shoulder. “You know that you’re going to get laid. There’s no need for flattery.”

“Truth isn’t flattery. I missed your birthday last year. I told you there’s no way I’m ever letting it happen again.”

“You missed it because I didn’t tell you when it was.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Ahh. So that’s why you wanted to come out here.”

“I might have arranged a small party for you later this afternoon.”

“I’m not sure you’re aware but telling me about a surprise party ruins the surprise aspect.”

He laughs and it’s the rarest, most beautiful sound in the world. It’s taken over a year since we met but smiles and laughter come more frequently and are won far easier now.

“I didn’t arrange it as a surprise. I knew you’d want to celebrate with all of our chosen family.”

Over the past year, that family has steadily grown. The club took on three new prospects as others patched in, and all four of the men who came with me from New Mexico decided to stay. They were supposed to be sent back, but when they asked Gray if they could prospect with the club and patch in instead, he didn’t make them leave.

Mason, who used to be an architect in a previous life before leaving the rules and regulations behind in favor of a life with a far less rigid structure, played a key role in drawing up the plans for this very cabin.

When the Berserkers stopped being a threat and Hart became Satan’s Angels’ peaceful hometown again, Gray was able to focus on negotiating a deal to buy the land and the cabin that Raiden and I went to check out. The woods that we got lost in are now property of the Angels. Gray’s going to build a cabin for him and his family on the land. Several additions were added to the old, crumbling, one room trapper’s cabin where my brother was once taken and tortured. Gray was adamant about saving the original structure.

I get why he wanted to do it. It was about taking back what was ours, not letting the fear and pain of what was done to us become a permanent ghost in our bones haunting us.

It’s the exact same reason why I went back to college to finish my PhD.

One of the prospects who just patched in—Jonathan—also got his GED. Raiden’s been helping him with it for a while now and honestly, when he showed us the results, it was almost better than my own name on my own piece of paper.

“They’re coming here? Everyone?”

“Yup. No one’s going to stay the night, though. They’ll go back to Hart to continue the festivities at the clubhouse without us.”

“Celebrating my birthday without me.” I laugh. There truly is nothing like a biker or a biker party and I mean that in the best way.

“We could go if you want. We don’t have to stay up here for the weekend like we planned.”

I swat at him. “This isourweekend away. I’m not giving it up for anything. The only place I’d ever agree to go is to our house. I don’t mind sharing you with everyone for a few hours this afternoon, but I’d like to have you to myself all night.”

“It’syourbirthday, Prof.”

I circle one arm around his neck and haul myself closer to his sweat-soaked chest. I think women are lying if they say that they don’t find a muscly, sweaty, hard living man more attractive than a clean-cut guy, freshly showered, in a suit, smelling like artificial cologne. I much prefer the scent of fresh air, pipetobacco, oil and gas, grease stains on skin and dirt that never comes out no matter how much scrubbing goes into it because it’s the dirt from working on an old truck or our bikes.

Speaking of pipe tobacco… “Oh my god, did you smoke your pipe before you went for a run?”

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