I shrug. “It’s not bad.”

Saxon freezes with the bottle of his beer inches from his lips, turns to me, and stares.

“I’m kidding.” I punch his shoulder then reach down into the pizza box for my third slice.

Really built up an appetite fucking my man six ways to Sunday. I saw red when I walked into his room. It turned to a murderous shade of black when he refused to fight with me. Wanted to rip his dick off when he started stripping in front of me acting like sex would fix everything. I’ve never been so jealous in my life. I wanted to kill that woman.

Saxon knew, though. He knew what he was doing when he stripped down and challenged me, and it was precisely what I needed from him.

He drains the beer in one long pull, throws the glass bottle into the trashcan, breaking it. “Want the truth?” he asks.

“Always.” I break a long string of gooey cheese from the pizza, popping it into my mouth.

“Thought long and hard about bringing you here. Didn’t really want to.”

Well, that wasn’t expected. It hurts a little more than I’d like to admit.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, darlin’. Can read you like a book. I was scared it wouldn’t be good enough for you. It’s a simple place. Close enough to the club, but far enough away. It ain’t no fancy digs like you and Zeke have. The thing is, it’s mine.”

I stop him by putting down my pizza and crawling in his lap. His patio lounger is roomy enough to let me do so. “It’s perfect, baby, and if I'm honest, I like it better than my house. It’s a place that could be a real home. Simple, comfortable, and just the right size to raise a family in.”

“Yeah?” His voice is shocked.

I nod. “Yes, this perfect backyard fenced in for little Saxons to run around while I stand in the kitchen and cook dinner. I can see them right out the back window with the sliding glass door wide open. It’s a home while not many places are that.”

“And plenty of room to fuck,” he adds.

There’s my man. Serious as hell with the ability to make any topic light and laughable.

“We have to cover a lot of rooms tonight. Might have to go into the morning, since we never left your bed.”

“Had to get you dressed and fed before I took you up the ass.” He flicks the hem of the T-shirt with the club name across the chest. It’s worn and well-loved and now wrapped around my body. “I’m also starting to think you have an aversion to packing or remembering your clothes.”

“Seriously, Saxon—”

He cuts me off cupping my tits. “Starting to think you want to be around me in your birthday suit, yeah?”

“I got some really cute clothes today. You know, the ones I’d love to wear but my job stops me from.” Each word comes out needy and breathless all because of his touch.

“Like you naked.” His hand slips down to my core underneath the pair of boxers I have on, rolled over several times to fit me.

I slap his chest in a playful gesture, fighting like hell to change the subject, and not because the cold, hard truth is this man owns me with one single touch or word. There’s something about him that’s real. He doesn’t need a diploma with his name on it to prove to me how smart he is. How caring or how much he takes his passion for life and puts his whole heart out there with his love for the club, his family, friends, and now me. I’ll never be able to explain it, but it’s all there.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?” Saxon sinks two fingers inside of me in a steady rhythm. I need him, and when his flesh is on mine, he controls me.

My eyes slam shut, and I battle to string together a thought. “Ass. Fuck me in the ass.”

His hearty chuckle vibrates throughout my entire body with force settling between my legs, where he is working in and out of me.

“Gonna claim that ass, darlin’.” Two more pumps inside of me. “And when I do, you’ll never forget who owns you, and when some bitch tries to take me, you’ll get wet right here remembering everything and everywhere I’ve been.”

His fingers were born to strum me. He’s the conductor, and I’m whatever instrument he desires. My hips buck to meet his palm. The sight of his tattooed arm working between my legs would turn anyone on. Shit. Fuck. Oh, my God. Stars. His thumb hits my clit.

“Saxon.”

The fuck?

A voice calls out again. “Saxon, could you please help me get my hose to my garden again? I rolled it up like you showed me, but I can’t reach my tomato plants.”

I make eye contact with the elderly lady peering over the fence for a split of a second, then bury my head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll be right there, Ladore,” he hollers back like nothing is happening here.

“Oh, Saxon! Thank you. You need to get your little ass back here more often. That wind-up thing for the hose you bought me was a great idea, but I still can’t get the head of the hose in the right hole to water.” Ladore’s silver hair shines over the fence with a gleam in her pupils. She’s in love with him. My heart expands, contracts, and rattles in my chest.

“That’s what she said,” I murmur into his neck.

“Be right there, Ladore,” he barks back. But there’s something different in his voice. It’s not the stone-killer type. Nope, it’s ‘I’m your neighbor and will wind up your hose and water your damn garden.’ See? Passion. In his way.

Saxon glances down at me and chuckles. His fingers flex inside of me. “Gotta help the neighbor lady. Don’t be going and getting all jealous on me, yeah? You beat Ladore down, we have words.”

I rise to my feet. Straighten out his shirt and nod. “Hope you find me after you get the hose in the right hole with your neighbor.”

Saxon stands to adjust his cock in his sweat pants like he didn’t just have his fingers deep inside of me. He grins at Ladore then me. It melts my beating heart knowing this little old woman counts on him. “Better protect that ass,” he growls in my ear.

The asshole struts right over to Ladore. She beams like her zucchini won the purple grand prize at the county fair. Saxon Hartley is a complete mystery. It hurts deep inside knowing he was ashamed to show me his house. The square feet or the fact marble doesn’t cover the surface of his counters or floor, none of that matters. The only thing that does right now is that Ladore gets her hose to her garden. Saxon leaps the fence with ease, causing Ladore to giggle. There’s ruckus on the other side of the privacy fence. My back relaxes back into the lounger where Saxon just laid. I grab the piece of pizza and just think of all the what ifs.

Wilder would love it here. The gaping hole in my heart sears with blinding pain. I know Saxon is doing everything to bring him back to me. It’s Saxon’s deep chuckle, laughter, and voice that ground me even if he’s helping Ladore get the end of a hose in a hole.

I have to believe. My gut knows beyond a shadow of a doubt Saxon will bring my Wilder back to me. From the first meeting, he never flinched when helping me. I realize now that’s when I fell for him. I tumbled headfirst into the wall of a man they call Brick.

He will always be Saxon to me. The man who helps his elderly neighbor out, no questions asked. The same person who placed a stranger on the back of his bike heading to the morgue, again with no questions asked. He’s a damn good man. One my parents would fall in love with. He has a big heart buried underneath all that gruff tough-guy act. He may be a biker called Brick, but he’ll always be my Saxon.

“I have fresh lemonade,” I hear Ladore’s voice float over the fence.

“Oh, I’m good,” Saxon’s rough voice floats through the air.

Jesus, I can only picture a shirtless Saxon running his hands over his head.

“Oh, nonsense, boy. Picked these lemons from the tree then squeezed them.”

Shit, Ladore is ruthless. I thought Nelly was a force; she has nothing on this elderly woman.

“Okay, I’ll take a glass,” Saxon relents.

“You won’t regret it.”

I’m happy eating pizza and listening to this. Life isn’t beautiful; far from it. I’m fighting for what is right. No, scratch that; we are fighting for it. I’ve learned some things are out of our control. Does it make it easier? No. You just have to believe in the good of the world in moments. I’ll bring justice to my family. Wilder will be back with me. That’s it.

I don’t need to be the doctor saving lives or delivering babies. Or be the brainchild. I have to believe.

Some people mask their pain with drugs or alcohol. Drown in their sorrow and never recover. Me, I’m coping with something so much better. It comes in the form a big, burly Saxon Hartley.

My raw and open wounds will more than likely never heal. But it’s Saxon’s rare smiles, his presence, and the way he protects me that keep me going.

I’d live at the club with him in his tiny-ass bedroom or even on the back of his bike. I’d go anywhere with this man. I realize I’ve been staring at the horizon right above the fence surrounding his manicured suburban yard. A clattering noise, then a broad, muscular man who leaps over forces me back to reality.

His low-slung black sweat pants, shirtless chest, and glistening sweat pebbling on his forehead make me insane. Saxon gifts me one of his rare and genuine smiles. It hurts to know this amazing and powerful man has never let anyone in to see this side of him. It’s an honor I’ll always hold dear.

Ladore’s wild, silver curls appear over the fence once again. I kick my legs back, enjoying this scene.

“Thanks for getting your hose in that hole. I had no idea it was so simple.”

Saxon turns back to look at his neighbor. “No problem. I’ll pick you up a new storage unit next time around.”

“Thanks, sugar.” She winks at him. “You’re a doll.”

Her gray hair disappears with the sound of her light singing filling the air. That little hooker. I bite down on my bottom lip to stifle the laughter. Saxon stalks his way to me as if he didn’t just charm a senior citizen right out of her granny panties. I can’t help it.

“Your milkshake brings all the grannies—”

My version of the song is cut off abruptly as Saxon tosses me over his shoulder. He stomps into his house. Slams the door shut, then we christen every surface of his kitchen from the floor to the counter and even the small pantry.