Page 55 of Stealing the Biker

“Could it be a false positive? That happens, right?”

“I mean maybe, but I’ve been having symptoms.”

Two pink lines, and my world comes crashing down. I want to break something, but I won’t hurt Sabrina by reacting in thatmanner. This is fucked. So fucked. My mistakes aren’t her fault. I never should have slept with her again, but I got jealous and in my head when Kiesha went to prom with Jonesy. I got drunk and slept with Sabrina. It was one time, and I didn’t even enjoy it. I was thinking about Kiesha the whole time.

Now look where that landed me.

“Jimmy,” she presses, twisting her fingers together.

I rub my palms over my face. “I guess we’re having a baby.” I muster a smile, but there’s no real emotion behind it. Life has the worst timing. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to break up with her, not tie myself to her for the next eighteen years. Fuck my life.

“I’m so happy.” She squeals, latching her arms around my neck. Launching herself at me to where I have no choice but to catch her as she wraps her thick thighs around my waist.

A year ago, maybe this news would have hit me differently. I didn’t see a future outside of our small-town life staying at my granny’s. That was before I started prospecting for the Royal Bastards MC. That was before I was assigned to protect Kiesha.

Just the thought of the pink-haired temptress has my blood humming and my cock twitching with desire.

We’re not that far apart in age. She’s eighteen and about to graduate from high school. Which means we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore.

I feel like a lousy piece of shit. How the hell do I end things with Sabrina now? How do I look her in the eyes and confess that I’ve been fooling around behind her back? That all this time I’ve been using her as a cover. I thought I’d be able to end thing with her in a clean break, clearing my path forward with Kiesha once I make the cut.

“I can’t wait to have our own place and decorate the nursery,” she continues, but I’m not listening.

I’m wondering how I tell Kiesha that I chickened out, and that we got to cool things down until I get my head together. If she finds this out, she’ll not only want to murder me, she could very well go to her uncle and confess everything. Then I really will be dead.

Everything is completely fucked.

“Isn’t this great? Aren’t you happy?”

“I’m still processing.” My response isn’t what she wants to hear. It isn’t a lie. “Guess we’ll be needing a bigger place.”

“Your Gran is going to flip.” She kisses my neck and along my jaw. “God, thinking about you holding our baby makes you so much hotter.”

I fake another smile. “Timing isn’t exactly the best.”

“Well, no. But it motivates us to get started on making things happen sooner. I mean, I don’t expect an engagement ring right away.”

A cold sweat beads across the back of my neck. Marriage. Babies. I’m going to be sick. I know it’s a lousy response, but we’re too young for this much responsibility.

“I know you had your heart set on becoming a patched member. Maybe this is a sign that you shouldn’t. A motorcycle club isn’t exactly the best place to raise a baby.”

“Don’t start nagging me about the club. I’m not quitting.”

“I don’t want to fight. Let’s celebrate.”

I release her. “Babe, it’s late and I’m tired.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Of course I do,” I lie. They keep coming. Every untrue word rolling off my tongue as natural as breathing.

It’s all I seem to do lately.

Lie.

Bend the truth.

Twist words.

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