ONE
LEXI
He’s watching.
I can feel his eyes on me from across the room, heated and heavy, filled with the promise of what he’s going to do to me the second we’re alone.
My core clenches at the thought.
His mouth, his tongue, his cock… I want them all.
But this isn’t the smartest way to get it. It’s never a good idea to poke an apex predator, but I do it anyway. I’ve always known how far I can push him before the monster slips out of the box. I also know he’ll never hurt me.
But I need him to seemetonight. Need to feel his heat on my skin, his possession in my bones. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s nothing he’s done—he still fucks me like I’m his reason for breathing. This is all on me.
Which is why I pulled on this dress and walked into the Crimson Sinners’ clubhouse with an audacity that verges on destructive.
It’s a good dress—too good. Casey hates it. Correction, Casey hates other men seeing me in it. And I understand why.
It dips low at the front, barely covering my nipples. The curves of my breasts peek out at the edge of the material, full andround, and my spine is exposed to the dimple just above my ass. It’s obscene really, but fuck, I feel beautiful in it.
Which is why I’m confident when I lean on the bar and push my ass out, inviting him to play. I know my dress will ride up enough to flash my thighs, just as I know he’ll be clenching his jaw to breaking point seeing this.
I don’t blame him for that. I’m a wet dream in a room full of men who fuck like it’s therapy and I’m inviting him to play.
I risk a glance over my shoulder. Unsurprisingly, he’s locked on me, his eyes blazing and his jaw so tight his face must be aching.
Casey Callahan—president of the Crimson Sinners, biker, and my handsome, overbearing husband.
The love of my fucking life.
The man is sin wrapped in wrath and ruin, which is fitting considering his road name is Preacher. His cut sits over his broad chest, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos I know better than my own reflection.
Even after three years of marriage, I’m still hopelessly obsessed with him. He’s so fucking attractive, it’s criminal. He has dark hair that’s long enough to run my fingers through, and a thick layer of scruff on his jaw that feels amazing scraping over my thighs when he’s between my legs. Right now, he’s standing across the room, clutching a bottle in his hand so tight he’s going to shatter it if he doesn’t relax.
Surrounded by patched members and out-of-town brothers, Casey’s wearing lethal calm like a second skin, but I know him better than anyone in this room. I see that storm brewing in his eyes.
And I fucking welcome it.
He says something to Chopper and then he’s moving. Right toward me. The crowd parts around him, his eyes never leaving mine.
My heart is bouncing against my ribs, my skin so hot the clingy material is irritating.
I turn forward, waiting. Preparing.
Barely breathing.
Nitro raises an eyebrow at me from the other side of the bar, as if to say you brought this shit on yourself. He’s the only man in this room who has looked at me. The only one who would dare when I’m dressed for sinning.
My breath is ragged as I cling to the edge of the bar, anticipation pooling in my belly.
And then his hands are on my hips, warm and firm. Even though I was expecting it, I still twitch, and when his chest presses along my spine, I whimper like a desperate bitch.
“You walked into my clubhouse wearing that fuckin’ dress?” His words are hot against the shell of my ear and I melt against him, his hands banding around my belly. “You tryin’ to make me fuck you in front of every man in this room? You want me to show them who you belong to, Lexi?”
Oh,fuck. I squeeze my thighs together before I combust. “I wanted to look good for you,” I rasp as I twist enough to slice a look at him.
“Dresses, sweats, in fuckin’ nothin’—you always look good for me, but this dress ain’t for eyes that ain’t mine, baby.” He kisses my jaw and I melt against his chest. He’s barely touched me and I’m already a fucking a puddle.
