Page 27 of Cold Hard Truth

She makes me so fucking stupid.

LikeKane is going to kill me if he finds out what happenedstupid.

Kissing her is one thing. Fucking her is asking to have my dick chopped off and hung on the clubhouse wall as a warning to all the other members to stay the fuck away from his daughter.

So why can’t I regret it?

Why don’t I want to take it back?

Being a twenty-one-year-old virgin wasn’t something I advertised, even though I wasn’t ashamed of it. I didn’t have a problem getting off or finding company if I was lonely. Just because I haven’t fucked anyone doesn’t mean I haven’t doneanything. But every time I considered taking it further something stopped me.

Lyla stopped me.

Even if I didn’t quite realize it.

Maybe the guys at the club are right. It’s the fortunes and horoscopes.

She calls it destiny, but I think it’s just the magical way she embeds herself under my skin. No one was worth giving myself to unless it was her.

Another woman couldn’t fill the gap. Wouldn’t feel right.

Now all I feel is Lyla.

The way her nails dug into my back and her legs wrapped around my hips. The way she shook and squeezed me so tight I thought I was going to black out. I can’t believe I didn’t come on the first thrust. But I wasn’t ready to let go of the moment, so I held onto it as long as I possiblycould.

Fucking her.

Feeling her.

Needing her.

There’s no more avoiding this now that I’ve jumped off the cliff. And if it means laying in the gravel while Kane runs me over with his bike to make an example of what happens to anyone who touches his daughter, then I guess so be it.

Kane’s respected me for my role in the club and for my father being his VP. But I’m going to find out just how far his grace goes. He’s not a merciless man, and this is going to test his limits.

Doesn’t matter.

There’s only so long I can keep the secret. Nothing stays buried when you’re a Twisted King. It’s in my best interest to be a man and face the music.

For Lyla, I need to come clean.

Hopping off my bike, I kick my legs out to send blood rushing back through them. I flex my fingers and wait for the vibrations from the long ride to subdue. The rest of the club made their way back to the clubhouse, but I took a detour to Twisted Roses to catch up with Jude.

Walking up to the shop, the Twisted Roses sign is blinking. It needs to be replaced, along with so many other things here. The shop is falling apart lately because Blaze cares more about the club than his business.

And even if I get it, at some point, we’re going to need to do something, or we’ll start losing clients.

Stepping into the shop, the sterile bleach scent drags me back home. While I thought I was born to be a biker,when I started to tattoo, I thought maybe I was actually born for more. So as long as the club allows me to maintain both, it’s the ideal scenario.

The club is family—and the place I’ve belonged because of my dad. But tattooing is mine. It’s something that belongs to me outside of the club.

“You’re back.” Jude looks up from the display case where he’s placing a few barbells.

He’s a killer artist, but he’s been happier piercing people lately. So while I’ve still been working with him on occasion, he spends most of his time with Rachel, learning the trade and starting a metal collection of his own.

I have no idea why any guy would want to punch a ladder of barbells through his manhood, but whatever makes him happy, I guess. It’s not like Jude seems all that interested in using his dick for anything else anyway. Whatever happened before I met him fucked him up good. It’s rare to see him talking to a chick.

“Yeah, finally.” I straighten my cut and rake my hair back, needing a shower and a full week of sleep. “Long fucking run.”

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