Page 18 of Single Mom's Bikers

“Zane told me about what happened today.”

He doesn’t even look up. “Did he now?”

“Want to explain?”

“Not particularly.” But there’s something in his tone—satisfaction and challenge—that makes me pause.

“Chase.”

He spins in his chair, that damn smirk I’ve known since he was sixteen plastered on his face. “What? You gonna lecture me about boundaries again?”

“This isn’t a game.”

“No?” He holds my gaze. “Tell that to your eyes every time she bends over. And I know I’m not the only one who’s kissed her already.”

Fuck. He knows.

“She’s different,” he continues, softer now. “You feel it too. How she looks at all of us. And brother, the show she puts on by that window…”

My throat tightens. “What show?”

His grin widens. “She puts on a show by her window a couple of times a week. First found out a few days after she moved into town. At first, there were curtains, but lately there’s been none. Just Evie Ashbourne stripping stark naked for just my eyes. And get this—she’s willing to perform for all three of us.”

“You can’t be serious right now,” I say, desperate to believe that my brother’s lying.

“Shit, I’m late.” Chase checks his phone. “I’d love to stay and chat, but the game’s starting at Draven’s. He grabs his jacket. “Talk later, bro.”

I stand there long after he leaves, his words burning in my brain. After a shower and dinner I can’t taste, I try to focus on paperwork. But all I can think about is Evie, next door, maybe undressing right now.

My feet carry me to Chase’s room before I can stop myself. The window’s right there. Just one look…

Jesus Christ.

She stands in full view, with no curtains between us. Moonlight paints her skin silver as she slowly unbuttons her blouse. My cock hardens instantly, straining against my jeans as I watch her deliberate movements.

My hand moves without conscious thought, freeing myself as she reveals more skin. Each button she unfastens makes the grip on my cock tighten. When her blouse finally slides off, I have to bite back a groan.

Some responsible part of my brain says to walk away, to be the mature, upright leader. But she turns, giving me her profile as she reaches for her bra, and all self-control vanishes.

I stroke myself slowly, matching her unhurried pace. She’s more beautiful than fantasy—strong and soft all at once. When black lace falls away, my rhythm falters.

She has to know what she’s doing to us. My brain memorizes each graceful movement. As she slides her hands down her body, I imagine they’re mine. I picture how she’d feel under my touch.

My strokes quicken as she hooks her thumbs in her panties. The sight of her completely bare in the moonlight pushes me toward the edge. No wonder Chase couldn’t resist.

Close now, I grip the windowsill with my free hand. She stretches, arching her back, and that’s all it takes. I come with her name trapped behind clenched teeth, barely keeping myself upright.

We’re all utterly fucked. And from that knowing smile curving her lips as she disappears into her bathroom, she’s fully aware of her power over us.

The numbers blur on my laptop screen. Hard to focus when all I can think about is how Evie looked last night, each movement designed to drive a man crazy.

Keys jingle at the front of the gallery. Speak of the devil.

“You’re here late.” Her voice carries down the hall.

I force myself to keep staring at the screen, not at how her dress hugs every curve I watched her reveal yesterday. “Could say the same to you.”

“Quarterly reports won’t file themselves.” She leans against my doorway, and Christ, her perfume hits me like a shot of whiskey. “Unless you’d rather I came back tomorrow?”

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