The Biker's Rules의 모든 챕터: 챕터 41 - 챕터 50

Date = 22 November Funny how much difference two days and a near-death experience can make.Place = San Francisco (Inferno)POV - Damion“Hey, it’s Damion Grimm,” some guy whispers loudly to his date, not even bothering to lower his voice as he points.Fantastic.I manage a faint smile anyway, feeling the tight pull of the scab splitting at the corner of my lower lip.“He looks like shit,” the guy adds helpfully.“I thought he was still in the hospital,” the girl says, craning her neck as they glide past us on the red carpet, her heels clicking against stone like punctuation marks to my humiliation.“I heard he was tied to a pole in his underwear,” the man says.I almost snort. People really do have a talent for embellishment. There was no pole.“I heard he nearly died,” the girl adds.That one makes the twins stiffen beside me.Yeah. The nearly-dying part did it. It scared them straight enough to finally give their blessing to date their sister — conditional, of course — take it slow

Date = 22 November My first time. Another date to remember.Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV – Melaena“Fuck,” he breathes, the word drags out like a confession he didn’t mean to make.The sound goes straight through me — down my spine, into my knees, which briefly consider giving up on their job altogether. The room feels too small suddenly, like the walls have leaned in to watch. The air is thick, warm, buzzing, as if even the dust motes are holding their breath.Damion’s lips are full and soft, but his kiss is desperate and eager as if he is struggling with something — something inside himself. He nibbles my bottom lip and takes the gap to deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue into my mouth.I feel hot all the way to my toes … and back up. Hot at all the horny spots along the way. And definitely very hot at a certain spot between my legs.No man has ever held me like this before, or kissed me like this before … and I’m sure no man can.His forehead drops to mine, eyes squee

Date = 22 NovemberPlace = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV – DamionWARNING – sex scene!!!“I love you.” It’s barely more than a breath. A slip. An accident.But it lands anyway.It hits me square in the chest and everything inside me just… stops. Cold. Like someone pulled the plug on my heart and left me standing there, stunned, holding something fragile I don’t know how to carry.The old fear rushes in on cue — the one that tells me I’m not enough, never have been, never will be. That I don’t deserve this girl, this moment, this feeling.It swells fast, ugly, and familiar, threatening to choke the life out of me.But this time, there’s no backing out — little Johnny already walked through the tunnel.And what a walk it was.I’ve never been so aroused in my life. Never felt this kind of hunger — sharp, relentless, all-consuming. I was barely holding it together, running on instinct and want and something dangerously close to awe. Control? Not even remotely. It was gone. Obliterate

Date = 23 November Waking up after sex with the girl still in my bed is a first for me. And I like it.Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV – DamionWARNING – sex scene!!I wake to an empty bed, and for half a second, my heart free-falls straight into my gut.Panic is an old acquaintance. So are fear and nightmares.Loyal companions, I came to know all too well ever since my sister died. And in the time since, I’ve been prancing around a mental stockpile of guilt with a dash of PTSD, conjointly sprinkled in like seasoning I never asked for.My hand slides across the sheets. Cold. Untouched.What if something happened to her? What if she left? What if D took her?All of those possibilities hit at once, sharp and real enough to make my chest tighten.Then I hear movement from the bathroom. Water. A drawer opening. Life continuing.I breathe again.Her phone lies on the nightstand, screen lit. I grab it to check the time — and freeze.There’s a message open. She must’ve forgotten t

Date = 23 NovemberPlace = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV - DamionThe Jeep’s parked crookedly near the house. The girls stand around it in a loose semicircle, arms crossed, expressions carved from stone.Uh-oh.As I swing off the bike, my body protests loudly — knees tight, shoulder screaming, leg throbbing where the scrape’s starting to smart.Before I can straighten properly, Mel is in front of me.She doesn’t say a word. She just looks at me.And something in her eyes — dark, bright, furious, scared — tells me kissing her right now would be a very bad life choice.“Are you okay?” she asks, stepping closer. Too close. I can feel the heat coming off her, smell sunscreen and ocean and pure, unfiltered emotion.“Yeah,” I say quickly, flashing my most disarming smile. The one that usually works. “Just a scrape. Nothing serious.”“Good.”The word barely leaves her mouth before — whack — her hand connects with my cheek. Sharp and loud, snapping my head to the side. Pain explodes acros