Sydney dropped the helmet to the floor by the front door. "Jett?"

She walked toward the kitchen and finding the room empty, went down the hallway and peeked into their room. "Jett?"

"Maybe he went for a walk," said Kylie behind her.

"At one o'clock in the morning?" Sydney exhaled in exasperation. "I don't know what to do."

"Don't freak out yet. He's probably around here somewhere, or maybe one of the Brikken members came and picked him up." Kylie yawned. "The guys were probably looking for something to do while their women met at the clubhouse."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Disappointment filled her. She'd just got him back, and he wanted her to go to the clubhouse after Johanna told her to take time off and now he was gone. "Go ahead and go to bed. I'm going to stay up a little longer and wait for him."

"All right. See you in the morning." Kylie opened her bedroom door. "Love you, sis."

"Love you, too." She walked down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Getting a water bottle from the fridge, she cracked the top and drank, putting it back on the shelf to keep it cold. Mentally beat after dealing with the babies while worried about Jett, she couldn't think about going to bed until her body unwound from all the tension.

She removed the phone from her pocket and put the cell on the counter. Jett never mentioned if he was carrying a phone since he'd come home. There was no point in her having one in her pocket or purse to lug around anymore. He wasn't in prison, and she wasn't waiting for a call. Tomorrow, if it were okay with Jett, she'd see if Kylie wanted the phone. Her sister could call Milo if she wanted or if she got another boyfriend it would make it easier for her to be able to communicate with him.

Removing the hairband holding her messy bun, she shook out her hair, running her fingers through the strands. Her scalp tingled in relief. It seemed like she was always counting the minutes until she could be with Jett. Her obsession with him went out of control when separated from him. All she wanted was normalcy and feel good about what she was doing.

She sighed.

He might never ride again. What would that do to a man who'd lived his whole life knowing he would become president of a motorcycle club someday?

The sliding door behind her opened. She gasped and pivoted, relaxing as Jett stepped inside.

"Scare you?" he asked.

"A little." She leaned against the island. "I thought you were gone."

He frowned, his gaze intensifying. She looked down at her phone. Now that he was in front of her, talking about what to do with the cell seemed trivial.

"Syd?"

She raised her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Come out and sit with me on the deck. It's a nice night."

"Morning," she whispered. "It's after one o'clock."

He shifted in the doorway, looked outside, and then back at her. "Please."

Jett was not a man who ever said please. Not with her. Not with anyone.

She walked around the island and to him. He remained standing inside, blocking the door.

"Give me your lips." He lowered his head.

She kissed him and pulled back.

He never moved. "Syd."

She raised to her tiptoes again and kissed him longer until she opened her mouth because it was wonderful to have him back, demanding her lips, and making her give him everything.

Falling back on her heels, she touched her mouth. His gaze warmed. "That's what I want every time you come home, or we've been apart."

She nodded, her stomach fluttering. Afraid to say anything in case his better mood disappeared, she followed him outside.

He sat in a lawn chair and patted his leg. Careful of his injured hand, she sat sideways on his lap. Jett pulled her onto his chest, and she snuggled against his shoulder.

His heart raced against her. She put her hand on his chest, feeling the proof that he was here with her, holding her, wanting her.

A breeze kicked up. She shivered.

He put his injured hand in her lap. Holding still, she tilted her head, trying to see him in the dark.

"I don't have use of my middle and pointer finger. In time, my thumb, pinky, and ring finger will get stronger, but the other two are damaged. The second surgery was my only hope the cartilages could be repaired, but the joints were shattered. The scar tissue too much because of the wait for surgery, there was nothing to rebuild." He inhaled deeply.

It made her sick to her stomach that he'd suffered and the injury would be with him his whole life. "Is it painful?"

"Nothing I can't handle." He looked down at her lap. "A bit," he mumbled.

"How long does the doctor say it'll be until you don't have any pain?"

He chuckled, and there was nothing humorous about the sound. "Prison doctors...they don't say much. Their treatment is another way to punish the prisoner."

While she and Kylie had nothing to do with his incarceration, if it weren't for her making contact with Brikken members to con them out of money, Jett never would've met her, and ultimately, he wouldn't have been talking to Kylie and been spotted by her sister's foster dad.

"Can I touch?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Tell me if I do anything that hurts you." She hesitated. "You still have feeling in your injured fingers though?"

He nodded. She tenderly slid her hand under his and covered his fingers with her other hand. The roughness of his skin a welcoming sensation.

"I'd forgotten how big your hands are," she whispered.

Under her thigh, his cock hardened. She set his hand back on her lap. Last night, having sex, confused her after she'd come down from the high of the actual act and what he'd given her. She'd assumed after sleeping with him, he'd be more demanding and want sex again in the morning or whenever the urge hit him.

Aware of his hardness, her body became...not her own. "Jett?"

"Hm?"

"About last night..." She glanced at him, glad for the darkness hiding the warmth in her cheeks. "Thank you."

All the questions she had and the second guesses that beleaguered her today seemed more of a complaint about what happened, and that's not the point she wanted to make. He'd been gentle, and she'd lost her virginity. She swallowed. That was the problem.

It seemed like she'd done everything and it wasn't something Jett took from her.

She still wanted to give him that.

"I don't know how to talk about sex." She sighed, self-conscious. "I know that sounds stupid, but by the time I was thinking about having it, I was hiding by working for...well, conning people. Then, I was with you and then locked up in JDH. I didn't really have anyone around in my life who discussed stuff like this besides girls making off-handed comments."

"What do you want to know?" He pulled her back to his chest.

"It's not what I want to know." Hidden in the crook of his neck, she said, "Well, I just wanted to let you know it's okay if you want to, you know, do it again, whenever you want."

"Is that so?" He grunted.

She nodded against him. All she wanted to do was let him know she wouldn't stop him if he wanted to have sex but even to her ears, it came away as begging.

He kissed the top of her head. "You're not sore?"

"No." She placed her palm on his chest. "Are you?"

"I don't get sore," he said, his chest vibrating in amusement.

She pushed off his lap and turned her back to him. If she knew he was going to laugh at her, she never would've brought sex up.

"Syd?"

She turned around. "Don't make this harder for me. You knew I was asking about your hand."

"Fuck my hand." He stood. "The only thing you have to be concerned about is us."

"Your injury is part of us." She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows, shaking her head. "You can't close yourself off and pretend it doesn't exist."

He stood and stepped in front of her. "It doesn't exist."

"It does."

He hooked her neck and brought her forward, kissing her hard. When he pulled back, he said, "I will do whatever needs to be done to care for you and protect you."

"Jett." She tried to move away, but he held her. "That's not—"

"You're still in my house. You work at the club." His fingers tightened, pulling her within an inch of his mouth. "You're mine, Syd. Been through hell and back, and you are the only thing on my mind. You're still young when it comes to relationships. I get that. But, don't question what we have or how I feel toward you because I'm injured."

"Okay," she murmured. "But—"

"Damn, Syd." He brought her closer, capturing her mouth.

His lips softened after the initial possession and pulled back. She sucked in a breath, lightheaded. Then he went back to kissing her. She pressed her hands against his stomach, trailing them around his ribs, and to his back. This was the kiss she'd spent years dreaming of and wanting.

The one she missed.

The one that made her feel wanted.

He'd given her a glimpse of what it felt like to have someone care, not because the state was paying him money, and then she'd lost him for years. She'd spent the hardest time of her life wondering if she'd imagined the whole thing and calling herself all kinds of stupid for holding on and letting him push her away.

But, deep down, she understood him. She believed in him. She trusted him.

Her brain refused to work as his tongue swept hers.

The pressure of his mouth was better than any claim on her or conversation. His lips, stronger and thicker than hers, dominated her. Her eyes closed.

The whiskers from his beard and mustache roughly brushed her chin, her cheeks, and the bottom of her nose reminding her of the differences between them. Everything about Jett was hard. His body, his personality, his touch.

She accepted him for that hardness because she'd seen, felt, experienced a deeper level to his coarse exterior. He was the man who held her and refused to have sex, even when it was obvious he was ready and willing because she'd been a minor.

He comforted her with malted milk, something so simple and random, it only took his time to share that marvelous concoction with her. No foster parent had ever pulled her away and shared a small part of themselves with her before.

When he'd refused to talk to her about his time in prison and explain what was going on in his head, he pushed her away—and maybe that was for her protection. She liked to believe that was the reason and after he'd again verified how much he wanted her in his life, she had to trust him.

He eased back, sucking on her lower lip. She took another breath, surprised she was capable of drawing air into her lungs. He softened the nip with a caress of his tongue.

Finally, he sealed his mouth to her lips and held her with one arm. His urgency pushed into her lust-filled brain. She arched her neck, kissing him back, sucking his tongue, nibbling his lips.

Jett groaned in approval. Her lower body fluttered, liking the guttural sound she'd drawn from him. His tongue came out to meet hers, and his breath quickened. Her sex pulsed and she squeezed her thighs together, remembering what it felt like to have him fill her.

His arm left her, and he grasped her wrist, shoving her hand between their bodies to the front of his jeans. She rubbed his hardness, swearing it was doing more for her than for him.

Her legs shook. Something about being outside, fully clothed and making out with Jett excited her more than lying in bed.

Jett cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple through her lace bra. She scratched her fingernails over the denim covering him. Her mouth pulled away, and she gasped for air.

He backed her up until he'd pressed her against the side of the hot tub. Jett's hand pulled her tank up. She raised her arms, and he yanked the material over her head.

The cool night air kissed her skin. She shivered, thankful for the large hot tub behind her keeping her steady.

Jett's gaze swept down her body. Her nipples peaked and her sex spasmed at the excitement, the urgency, the intense way he stepped toward her. She reached up, wound her arms around his neck, and met his kiss.

He ground his pelvis against her. She moaned, and he quickly swallowed the sound. Her leg came up and rubbed the outside of his thigh. Her stomach curled, calling to get closer.

Both of his hands landed on her waist, and her body lifted until her toes left the ground.

She landed back on her feet in a startling jolt.

Jett moaned and moved away, bending at the waist.

Shocked out of her arousal, she moved forward realizing he cradled his injured hand against his stomach. He'd tried to pick her up and hurt himself.

"Oh, God." She rubbed his back. "What can I do?"

He straightened and walked a few paces away, stifling a groan. She followed him, wanting to do something.

"Can I get you an ice pack or—"

"Just go..." He grimaced, turning his head from her. "Go in the house."

"I want to help." She touched his good arm. "Come and sit down."

"Fuck." He roared. "Get away."

She stepped back at the outburst but hesitated to leave him. He shouldn't be alone. Maybe he needed a doctor. He could've done more damage trying to lift her.

Her throat tightened in empathy. He'd been through so much pain already.

Jett cradled his hand against his chest, kicked out with his boot and knocked the lawn chair off the deck. She jumped back.

"Get the fuck in the house," he said with a growl. "Now."

She whirled around and ran into the house.