Page 94 of Thornhill Road

The night was young. The music was great. The company was even better.

There was no place else Mustang wanted to be.

Bull nudged him with his elbow, earning him Mustang’s attention before he leaned toward him and yelled, “Looks like she’s settlin’ in just fine.”

Mustang shifted his gaze back onto his woman, admiring the view.

She was in a pink Harley Davidson tank top, the iconic wings printed on the back. He’d purchased it after she’d spotted it the day before. She wore it tucked-in to her blue jean, high-waisted, cut-off shorts, exposing her sexy legs. Classic Tess, she made sure to pack the perfect pair of shoes that weekend—her feet buried in her cowgirl boots.

When they first arrived in Sturgis, he could tell Tess was overwhelmed. It wasn’t just the crowds. That part, she’d expected. That part, she’d been looking forward to. It was the unfiltered, no boundaries, raw nature of the rally she hadn’t expected.

His Tess was wild like the wind, but gentle as a breeze, too.

He didn’t want her any other way.

But Bull was right. After two full days immersed in the biggest biker party of the year, she was cutting loose and having fun—something he loved to see.

Much like she’d settled in to the wild ruckus of the rally, she’d gotten comfortable in his world back home. He’d known for a while now he wasn’t going to let her go; but every day, she did something to remind him he’d be a fool not to brand her as his.

She was good, clean, and pure. Yet, somehow, she’d accepted him for who he was without a fight. She’d swallowed the truth about the club, and she didn’t shy away from him after he’ddoled out justice with his fists. At the end of the day, she loved him, and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

He had no intension of ever peeling the curtain all the way back. He wanted to preserve his sweet Tess as best he could, and it was his job to protect her and his baby girl with everything he had. Regardless of what he might keep from her, it was a comfort he never thought he’d know, having a good woman who would stand by his side no matter what.

He’d seen such a thing with Bull and Winnie, but it was rare amongst his brothers. Most of them were too wild to even consider settling down. Those who had tried had failed—the life of a Stallion not a simple one. The women who hung around the club were either there for a good time or lost, neither of which made for a decent partner.

Some days, Mustang still found it hard to believe his woman had walked right into his bar asking for him.

Now she was tipsy, having had a couple of beers, her third draft in her hand halfway gone. She was swaying her hips to the beat of the music, singing to the chorus with Winnie at the top of her lungs. As he watched her, Mustang felt compelled to give her something that made her feel as content as she made him.

He took a step closer, reaching his arm around her middle before pulling her back against his chest. She came without resistance, instantly melting into him as she continued to sway her hips from side to side.

A half-smile tugging at the side of his mouth, he brought his lips to her ear and muttered, “Fuck, I love you.”

He felt her gasp as her body froze, and his half-smile stretched into a grin.

Then she whipped around, sloshing her beer as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sought out his eyes. Hers, golden-brown and gorgeous, were glassy with tears.

That was his Tess. Pretty in pink.

Leaning into him, she pressed up onto her tiptoes and sought out his mouth.

He gave it to her, reaching down to palm her ass as he kissed her long and hard.

She kissed him right back, deep and greedy, like no one was watching.

That was his Tess. Wild like the wind.

Tess

One Week Later

I woke late Fridaymorning in Mustang’s bed, immediately rolling toward my phone. When I found I had no missed notifications, I flopped onto my back and yawned.

I’d just opened my eyes and already I knew I was going to need a nap before my shift that night.

Since we got back from Sturgis, I hadn’t slept in my own bed.

Or, as I preferred to think about it, since Mustang told me he loved me, he’d been pretty insistent we were no longer to sleep in separate beds—even though our sleep schedules didn’t always mesh.

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