Page 45 of Ruger's Rage

My beard must be rough against her skin, but she doesn't seem to mind—her nails scrape against my scalp, urging me closer.

I trail kisses down her neck, breathing in her cinnamon scent as my hands continue exploring the dips and curves of her body.

The leather of my cut falls open around her, creating a private space that's just ours.

"We should stop," she whispers, even as her head tilts to give me better access to her throat.

"Should we?" I ask against her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.

Her hands slide down to my chest, not pushing me away but not pulling me closer either. "Anyone could walk out here."

The reminder of where we are—exposed on the clubhouse porch—brings me back to reality. I rest my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.

"Come home with me," I say, the words escaping before I can think better of them.

She tenses slightly, and I immediately backtrack. "Just to talk. Just for a while. Away from all this."

Tildie studies my face, her amber eyes dark with desire but cautious. "I don't think that's a good idea. At least… not tonight."

"One day at a time," I remind her, forcing myself to ease back, giving her space.

She nods, a small smile playing at her kiss-swollen lips. "And tonight has already been a big step."

I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, memorizing the way she looks wearing my cut, hair tousled from my hands. "For both of us. I’ll go at your pace, Tildie, as long as it takes."

Somehow, I don’t think it’ll be too much longer.

CHAPTERSIX

Tildie

The morning after the club dinner, I wake with my skin still tingling from Ruger's touch.

My fingers trace my lips where his beard scraped against them, remembering how he'd backed me against the porch railing, his hands exploring my curves.

I’ve never had a man make me feel so alive, so cherished, so… desired.

"One day at a time," I whisper to myself, the promise we'd made under the stars.

But stepping into my morning shift at Backroads, I wonder if I've already gone too far, too fast.

Letting him kiss me is one thing. Letting him into my life is another risk entirely.

"Morning, sunshine," Ellie greets me, already flipping pancakes on the grill. "Sleep well?"

The knowing look in her eyes tells me she noticed our absence on the porch last night. "Yeah, fine I guess."

"Just fine? That's not what your face says."

I ignore her, grabbing my apron and focusing on the coffee machine. "The club's different than I expected."

"They're just people," she says, sliding pancakes onto a plate. "Complicated, dangerous sometimes, but still just people. They take care of their own."

Their own.

Ruger had said the same thing last night.

Like I already belonged to something bigger than myself.

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