Brooke padded barefoot across her bedroom, keeping a careful eye on the two mugs of coffee she carried. She didn’t need to spill them on her white carpet. When she got to the end of the bed, she glanced up and what she saw drew a smile to her face.

Dex had a wrist handcuffed to each upper corner of the headboard. His legs were spread wide and thick black leather cuffs were buckled around each ankle with a strap connected under the bed to make sure he couldn’t close his legs.

His nipples were swollen and red, his lips as well. His cock now lay flaccid along his hip.

They’d had a good night. An active night. And this morning was even better.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t said no to any of her demands and he also had shown no fear to any of her suggestions. Things he’d never tried before.

Once again, she was pleased he was willing.

His eyes were dark as they roamed down her naked body. “Coulda let me go before makin’ coffee.”

“Could have,” she said, then moved around the bed to place the mugs on the nightstand. “But I decided I like you like that.”

“You decided,” he repeated in a mutter.

She had broken out most of her toys last night because she had wanted to push his boundaries. No matter what she did, he’d refused to even murmur the safe word she assigned him. Not once.

Which worried her a little because for a moment she had forgotten herself and found it a challenge to see just how far she could go and how much he’d resist saying it.

But she finally remembered herself and backed off since she didn’t want to ruin the experience for him.

Or her.

“Gonna help me drink my coffee or you gonna lemme go?”

With a sigh, she grabbed the cuff key from the dresser, but before releasing his wrists, she unbuckled the ankle cuffs and let them fall to the floor. Then she stared at him for a few moments, admiring his body, beautiful in its own way with the colorful tattoos, the dark scruff on his face and his intelligent brown eyes.

She had been so wrong. He was not a dumb biker. Maybe he didn’t have a college degree. And he certainly wasn’t a doctor, lawyer or financial wizard, but he wasn’t stupid.

His speech habits left something to be desired, but she considered it similar to an accent, something that you picked up from your environment and the people who surrounded you. Though the rest of his “brothers” spoke the same way, she found it funny, for the most part, that the club women didn’t. The men probably just didn’t give a shit.

She didn’t think Dex gave a rat’s ass what anyone thought of him. Of how he looked, how he acted, or how he talked.

Even her.

He hadn’t tried to impress her once.

No. She saw exactly who he was. He certainly didn’t hide it.

There was nothing fake about him.

So many men in her past had done their best to impress her. And for what? To try to land in her bed? To have a relationship?

But after a while the gold plating would become worn and she’d see the real men beneath their shiny exteriors.

Eventually, they would look past her appearance and her success to see her as she really was, as well. She was not a “yes” woman when it came to men. She didn’t need to appease any of them. She didn’t need their approval.

And sometimes that didn’t sit well with them.

Sometimes? Hell, almost every time.

She was sure it would be the same with this one, too.

With some reluctance and disappointment, she unlocked the cuffs and pulled them from his wrists, tucking them away in a drawer. Then she moved back to the coffee and held out a steaming mug as he rubbed at his wrists.

He took the coffee from her and she grabbed the remaining mug to take a careful sip. After settling on the edge of the bed, she asked, “Did you mind them?”

“The cuffs?”

“Yes.”

“No, long as it ain’t the pigs slappin’ them on me, I’m good.”

She smiled, took another sip and studied him from over the lip of the mug. “You wore them well.”

He grunted and swallowed a mouthful of coffee. He glanced down into his mug, surprise on his face. “Good shit.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Crow makes the coffee at church every mornin’, thank fuck. Otherwise, it’s toxic sludge.”

She wiggled farther onto the bed, enough to sit cross-legged, facing him as he relaxed against the headboard. “How long have you lived above the club?”

“Since a prospect at eighteen.”

That news surprised her. “You had to be a prospect?”

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“Even though you were born, like you say, into the club?”

“Yeah. Everybody’s gotta do their time.”

“And your mother, Ace’s sister, was born into the club as well.” She was trying to picture this family tree—now twisted as he said—in her head.

“Yeah.”

“What does Dex stand for?”

He lifted his dark eyes from his coffee. “Whataya mean?”

“You all have some sort of biker nickname, right? Dex has got to be short for something.”

He snorted, then took another sip of the hot coffee. “Yeah. It’s short for somethin’.”

“What?”

His eyebrows furrowed and he placed his mug carefully on the nightstand. “Dexter.”

“But it’s a nickname, right? One they gave when you were a prospect? Like Rooster, Jester and Moose? Why Dexter? Did you used to wear some nerdy glasses or something? Is that why they gave you that name?”

He rubbed a hand over his forehead and stared at her. “My mom named me that.”

Whoops.

“Went through some sorta fuckin’ phase where she loved punk rock an’ named me after Dexter Holland.”

“Who’s that?”

“Some singer in a band. The Offspring or some shit like that.”

“Oh.”

“Thought it was cool.” Though, it was clear he didn’t think it was cool by the expression on his face.

“Oh.”

“She was wrong.”

Her lips twitched and she hid it by taking another sip of coffee. “It’s a good name.”

“The fuck it is.”

She lifted a hand. “But you could have changed it to some cool biker name. Like Diesel or Hawk.”

“Those are their real names.”

“Oh.” She frowned. Who named their kid after fuel? She thought for a moment. “Crash and Rig?”

“Yeah, those are nicknames.”

“See? Something like that.”

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“’Cause prospects get shit names on purpose. An’ since Dexter is a shit name, the brothers thought it’d be funny to make me keep it. That’s why.”

“But you could’ve changed it once you were patched in?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Guess so. But at that point it didn’t fuckin’ matter.”

She leaned over and placed her mug next to his. “Well, I like it. I may have to start calling you Dexter. Like Dexter Morgan. He was cool.”

“He was a serial killer.”

She pursed her lips. “True.” She lifted a finger. “But smart.”

He snorted. “What’d be smart is if you fuckin’ fed me so I got energy to fuck you good later.”

“You think I cook?”

“Eggs are easy. Get cookin’, woman.”

She raised her brows. “You know I have a ball-gag, right? You saw it in my toy box last night?”

He grunted and grinned. “Can’t eat your pussy with one of those in my mouth.”

That aforementioned pussy clenched hard when Brooke pictured his head jammed between her thighs. “Hmm. Good point.”

Dex rubbed his sore jaw and wiggled it. He wasn’t doing that ball-gag shit again. He wasn’t sure he had limits until last night when he discovered that he did.

He rolled over onto his side and studied the woman sleeping next to him. He traced a finger down the indentation of her spine, then back up, rubbing her long, soft hair between his fingers.

Fuck him. Two nights at her house. Two nights in her big bed. Two nights of her blowing his fucking mind.

She still had a mark on her neck from where he bit her hard the other day and he circled it gently with the tip of his finger.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand and he sighed, flipped to his back, then reluctantly reached for his cell.

He hit the power button and, once it lit up, he scrolled through the newest messages. He’d ignored most of them the past couple days and nights, but these he couldn’t.

Diesel.

The new father didn’t sound happy with Dex’s disappearing act.

Need 2 deal with this shit.

Need ur ass back here.

Supposed 2 give her news not ur dick.

Get what we need n get gone.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He had completely forgotten about the diary. If they were going to crucify Pierce, then they needed proof of what he did. It didn’t have to be solid, but it had to be something.

Stripping the man of his colors was serious.

He texted the club’s enforcer back. U tell Kels?

No. Need facts first.

Dex nodded to himself. He still couldn’t believe that Pierce had not only fathered Dex’s cousin, but the woman currently lying naked next to him.

He sent one last text: Gettn diary n headn home.

2day came the one-word order. He should ask D about the baby, but he knew his cousin wouldn’t want to chit-chat. Even about his own kid.

He rolled onto his back once more and realized Brooke was not only awake, but watching him.

“Bad news?”

“No. Gotta get back soon.” He watched her carefully to see if she’d show any disappointment in his announcement.

Nope. Apparently, he was the only one feeling disappointed.

“Right. I need to get back to work, too. I’m not getting much done by never putting on clothes and only getting out of bed long enough to shower and eat.”

She leaned over and kissed his shoulder. Before she could move away, he curled his fingers around the back of her head and pressed her cheek to him, holding her close.

“Babe...” he murmured, unsure on what would happen once he left.

Would she just go on about her business and forget all about him?

He wanted to rub away the ache in his chest. A feeling he didn’t recognize.

She placed a hand on his gut and snuggled closer with a sigh. Her skin was smooth and warm against him, her hair soft as it brushed against his cheek and chest.

He buried his nose into her hair and inhaled. He didn’t think he’d ever forget that scent. It would always remind him of her. And their short time together.

One thing was for sure, he’d never look at sex the same again. Fuck no. She had opened his eyes to shit he never, ever thought he’d like.

But the problem was, he couldn’t see himself doing it with anyone else.

He closed his eyes and blew out a breath at the thought of climbing on his sled and heading west once again. He needed to get home.

Because Harrisburg wasn’t it.

He also needed to get that diary first. Needed to read what Brooke read. See the shit for himself.

Then the Committee needed to take action. Either move on from these accusations because Brooke interpreted something in her mother’s words that just might not be true. Or they needed to remove the cancer from their club.

But one thing was for sure, he doubted Brooke was simply going to hand over her late mother’s diary. And he had no fucking clue where it was. He doubted he could just ask and she’d willingly give it to him to take back to Shadow Valley.

However, she might let him read it since they had discussed that prior.

He combed his fingers through her hair. “The other day, you asked what my word’s worth. Tellin’ you now, my word to you is worth everythin’. Know we’ve been avoidin’ the discussion about Pierce an’ we need to talk about it before I leave. I promise we’re gonna handle it... him.”

“I hope you do.”

“Plan on it. Just gotta trust me. Trust us to do the right thing.” He hesitated. “Need you to do somethin’ for me, though.”

She turned her blue eyes up to him and his breath caught. He steeled himself against the strange feeling that went through him. The one he couldn’t identify. Or maybe one he didn’t want to.

“What’s that?” she asked softly.

“Need to see your mom’s diary.”

She didn’t say anything for the longest time, instead her gaze shifted to somewhere else in the room.

After a while, he said, “Need to read the part that’s important. Not the whole thing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Babe, I believe you. Just need to be able to say what you read’s the same shit I read. He ain’t gonna be able to face his accuser, so just wanna be sure.”

“What will you do with him if I show you her diary and you agree what I read really happened?”

She wasn’t going to like his answer, but it needed to be said. “Babe, that’s club business.”

She lifted her head. “Dex, it’s my business, too. If what my mother indicated is true...” She shook her head. “I’m the result of his actions. His actions which changed my mother’s life. Which brought me into the world. His blood runs through my veins. And I know your club is all about loyalty and blood.”

“It is.”

“So maybe I should get a chance to face him. Make him look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”

“Ain’t gonna tell you the truth. Ain’t gonna admit shit.”

“Are you sure about that?”

No, he wasn’t sure. And if it was him, Dex would want to face his mother’s rapist, too. But the woman was wicked with a gun and he wouldn’t put it past her to plug him right between the fucking eyes.

No matter what, he felt the need to protect Brooke and he couldn’t tell her that. Fuck no. That would get her madder than a pissed-off hellcat.

“Get it. Gotta read it.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that an order?”

“Nope. A please an’ thank you was on the beginnin’ an’ end of that question.”

“There sure wasn’t and that wasn’t a question.”

“Heard it. Need your ears cleaned out.”

Brooke snorted. “Remember that ball-gag you had in your mouth last night?”

Dex tipped his eyes down to her, put his fingers against his jaw and wiggled it again. Yep, it was still achy. “Fuck yeah.”

“Didn’t like it, did you?”

“Fuckin’ loved it.”

She grinned and tweaked his nipple. “Liar.”

With a sigh, she pushed away from him and rolled out of bed. He watched her the whole time because... hell, she was naked.

And her body was fucking hot.

And so was her pussy. And those tits.

Fuck.

How the hell was he rolling out of there today?

He lifted his head and groaned when she bent over to dig something out of a bottom dresser drawer, her ass and everything else pointing toward the bed.

His hand automatically went to his dick. But when she straightened and turned he released it quickly, giving her an innocent smile.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Nope.”

She shook her head and threw whatever she had in her hand onto the mattress. He stared at the small book with the hard cover. It was clear what it was since “Diary” was embossed in gold lettering across the front.

Well, damn.

She moved around the bed and grabbed the robe hanging from the back of her bathroom door, sliding it over her shoulders and tugging her hair out from underneath it.

Heading toward the bedroom door, she tossed over her shoulder, “I’m going to make breakfast.”

“Don’t wanna be here when I read it?”

She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. “I can’t. Not again. Just put it back in the drawer when you’re finished... please.”

“Yeah,” he grunted, waiting until she left before letting his fingers slide over the cover. As he heard Brooke head down the hallway, he picked up the diary and flipped through it.

He only wanted to read the part that pertained to Pierce, and he had no idea where in the diary it was.

As he flipped through, he realized the diary was empty. He closed the cover and began again, slower this time.

Cursive handwriting filled the first page, both front and back, the same for the second, the third, then the fourth... But that was it.

Four pages.

In the whole fucking diary.

He closed his eyes and sucked in deep breath, paged back to the beginning and began to read...