Page 36 of Claimed By The Club
In the hush, we lose ourselves in the rhythm of shared kisses and urgent caresses, the cot squeaking under our shifting weight. It feels more deliberate than the last time we kissed—like we’re both aware of the boundaries and choosing to ignore them. Passion thrums in every beat of my heart.
I kiss down her neck, savoring each soft moan. My thoughts blur with the sheer intensity of closeness. She props herself on an elbow, hair spilling around her face, and I see uncertainty flicker in her eyes. “We really shouldn’t,” she murmurs.
“We don’t have to,” I murmur back, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. “But I want to, Sierra.”
She locks gazes with me, a tremble in her exhale. “Me too.”
That’s enough. My lips claim hers again, the pent-up longing fueling every movement. Her nails dig into my shoulders as we lose track of anything beyond this moment. Clothes shift, kisses deepen, a rush of heat envelops us. We fall into each other in a flurry of urgent touches, letting the tension slip away with each gasp of pleasure.
Partway through, the door handle rattles. Time screeches to a halt. We freeze, hearts pounding. The lock is engaged, but we both stare in that direction, breath hitched. The handle jigs again, then we hear a terse voice from the other side.
“Viper? You in there?”
It’s Ghost—Luke. My pulse rockets. Sierra’s eyes widen, cheeks flushed. She mouths, “Oh God.”
I blink, fumbling for words. “Yeah, man, hold on,” I call, voice rough. “Give me a sec.”
A brief pause. “We gotta talk. It’s urgent.”
Sierra tries to scramble off, but the cot’s small. We nearly tumble. I yank my shirt down, cursing under my breath. “All right, all right,” I mutter, swinging my feet to the floor. I shoot Sierra an apologetic look, then shuffle to the door, flipping the lock. Ghost stands in the hallway, arms crossed. His gaze flicks from my rumpled clothes to Sierra, who’s still on the cot straightening her shirt. A flash of something—surprise, maybe jealousy—crosses his features. But then it settles into a guarded calm.
He exhales, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “We got a leak,” he says, voice soft but urgent. “A real one, feeding the Reapers intel about Sierra. Possibly passing them details on her location and the club’s operations.”
Sierra gasps, face going pale. “Are you serious?”
Ghost nods, glancing between us. “Lance overheard phone calls referencing Sierra by name, plus some coded references to events we’ve planned. This is big.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “So it’s not just speculation anymore. They’re actively funneling info.”
“Seems that way.” Ghost’s gaze drops to the messy cot for half a second, but he shakes it off. “We’re not sure who. Could be a patched member or a prospect.”
Sierra stands, anxiety flaring in her eyes. “What does that mean for me?”
Ghost’s expression softens. “It means we lock down security even tighter. Until we weed out the traitor, you shouldn’t be alone.”
She glances at me, then back to him, a swirl of emotions etched on her face. I can still feel the lingering heat from our interrupted moment. Now we’re plunged into crisis mode. My chest feels tight.
“All right,” I say. “We keep her close, rotate watchers. No one gets near without approval from at least two of us.”
Ghost meets my eyes and, for a heartbeat, the tension from catching us in a half-dressed moment lingers. Then, with a flicker of resigned acceptance, he nods. “Agreed. We should talk to Frost next. Figure out how to isolate the traitor.”
Sierra crosses her arms, shoulders trembling slightly. “This is insane. Any clue who it might be?”
Ghost shakes his head. “No. But we’ll find out.”
A tense silence settles. We’re all keenly aware of the complicated situation: Sierra’s at risk, someone is sabotaging us, and we just got caught in a moment that might intensify everything. Ghost glances again at the unmade cot, his cheeks flushing faintly, and I see the flicker of conflict. He’s the quiet type, but I know him well enough to sense he’s not outraged or disgusted—more like torn.
He exhales. “Look, I’ll let you both… handle yourselves. But we need to deal with this leak ASAP.” His gaze settles on Sierra. “If it’s any comfort, I’ll personally ensure you’re safe. And Viper will too.” He hesitates, jaw tensing. “We all will.”
Sierra nods, stepping closer to him. “Thank you.”
For a moment, the three of us stand there in a silent triangle, tension coiling in the stale air. It’s more than just the threat overshadowing us. It’s the unspoken reality of what Ghost just walked in on: me with Sierra, a woman he clearly has feelings for too, judging by that day he saved her at Dolly’s, and the stolen kiss I suspected they shared. None of us knows exactly how to navigate this, but there’s no immediate hostility or jealousy darkening his expression.
I clear my throat. “We’ll talk about… all of this later.”
Ghost nods curtly, turning for the door. “I’ll call Frost. Be ready to meet in the main lounge in ten minutes.”
He steps out, leaving Sierra and me alone in the echo of the moment we just lost. She turns to me, face flooded with worry. “A traitor? This means they can track me, or find out my schedule.”
