Page 13 of Biker Daddies

The man doesn’t like to be touched. He doesn’t touch. Hell, he doesn’t even hug. The most that ever happens is if someone accidentally brushes against him.

Alto grabs Bane’s shoulder and Bane spins around, wide-eyed and ready to attack, but his hand is still on the ground, trapped under hers.

“It’s just me, Bane. It’s Alto. Your VP.”

The haze leaves his eyes and he blinks, confused and lost. He yanks his hand away from hers and stands, taking a deep breath.

“Sorry. Got lost in thought.”

“That’s the second time. Do you need to go back to the clubhouse? Colt and I can handle Harlow. Or maybe go home.” We all share a house together anyway. We could live at the clubhouse, but we choose to have a private space.

“I’m fine,” he says with a curl of his lip.

Harlow takes the time to sit up, her face pale, and she curls over the toilet seat, throwing up some of what she drank tonight.

I stand behind her, knowing just how she feels because I’ve had plenty of nights like this. “It’s alright. Let it all out, sweetness.” I hold her hair back just as she sniffles.

“I really don’t feel good.” Her voice is amplified by the toilet bowl.

“I know you don’t. You’ll feel better soon.” I rub her back, trying to soothe her, then catch myself.

I’m touching the Prez’s daughter.

Both Alto and Bane are staring at me. Bane looks angry, typical, but Alto looks resigned.

“I’m only trying to help her. Can’t you see she’s sick? Damn, he’d want us to at least take care of her. Stop being bitches about this,” I tell them, leaning to the side to grab toilet paper. “Go get her some water or Gatorade. Something with sugar in it.” I dab her mouth clean before flushing the evidence down. “Feel better?”

“No,” she says at the same time as she nods, giving away just how drunk she is.

“Someone please get me an ice pack. She’s burning up.” Maybe she does need out of these clothes. She’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that’s soaked through with sweat. “Hey, Harlow? Hey?” I tap her cheek and her head falls back like a bobblehead. “Sweetness? Hey, I need you to wake up for a second.”

Her eyes slowly open and I can tell she regrets how much she drank tonight.

“I’m going to get you changed, okay? I promise not to look.”

She nods and I pick her up by carefully swinging her into my arms, then lay her down on the bed. I rummage through her drawers. I open and quickly shut her underwear drawer because I do not need that image in my head.

So much about tonight is fucked-up. Too much. There’ll be no going back after this, I just know it.

“And those are bras.” I shut that drawer too, my cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. I don’t know why. I’m not doing anything wrong. “Bingo,” I say, finding her shirts.

I find an extra-large one that says Venom Vultures MC on the right breast and figure that’s good enough. Turning around, I lift her up and look away, yanking her sweat-soaked shirt from her body then tossing it somewhere.

Only it doesn’t land anywhere.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alto hisses.

I turn to see he’s holding the shirt. He and Bane are staring at me with flames of fury in their eyes and I reevaluate my situation.

“I know this looks bad. It isn’t what it looks like. I haven’t seen anything. So you fuckers need to look away.”

They do the moment I say it. “Her shirt was drenched. She’s burning up. I wanted to make her more comfortable.” I slip the MC shirt over her head, and it falls to her knees. Without thinking, I slip my hands under her shirt, unbutton her pants, and slip them off. “Flip on the fan.”

Bane flicks the switch and when the fan gains a good speed, she moans as cool air drapes over her skin.

“See? Do you have the ice pack?”

“Yeah. Here.” Alto throws it to me, and I settle it on the pillow, then drag her up the bed so the back of her neck can be pressed against it.

---