Finally, Grant finished with a groan, his grip almost painfully tight on her hip. Panting, he held himself inside her for a long moment. Then he bent over, pressing her into the hard counter, and kissed her shoulder. “Dinner’s in a half hour, so you have time to get cleaned up,” he said. He pulled out, causing her to wince, and then he stepped to the toilet.
“Okay,” Alexa whispered. She grabbed tissues from the fancy silver dispenser on the counter to clean herself up, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror as she did.
Because she wasn’t sure what she’d see in her eyes, or how her expression might reflect the queasiness taking root in the pit of her stomach.
“Alexa?” Grant asked from behind her. She whirled, startled. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she said, clutching the counter behind her to hide her shaking hands. “Just catching my breath.” And trying not to lose my mind.
He gave her a wolfish grin. “Okay,” he said, and then he walked out into the sitting room.
Alexa stared at the empty place where he’d been standing. Pull it together, Al. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Except that feeling of dread she’d been flirting with for the past couple of weeks was stronger than it had ever been before.
CHAPTER 10
The biker rolled into the big parking lot in front of the Raven Riders’ clubhouse and brought his Harley to a stop. Maverick gave a wave and waited as their newest prospective member hung his helmet on his handlebars and dismounted.
“Maverick, thanks again for sponsoring me, man,” Mike Renner said. Stocky, with reddish-brown hair and a close-shaved beard, the guy was a few years younger than Maverick’s thirty-four and had been a club Hang Around for almost a year. Mav had met him about three years before when he’d bought a custom bike from him, which was when Mike had first become interested in the club.
“Glad to have you,” Maverick said, shaking Mike’s hand. “Do me proud.”
Mike grinned. “I will.”
Nodding toward the front steps of the big two-story clubhouse, Maverick led Mike inside. “The induction ceremony is pretty low-key. Some words from the prez, advice from some of the patched members, and then you get your cut.” Maverick winked at the other man. “And then the hazing—I mean, the fun, begins.”
Laughing, Mike nodded as they stepped into the big front lounge that had once served as the lobby and reception area to the inn when it had been the center of a mountain resort decades before. On the wall by the mess hall hung all the members’ photos, including Jeb’s. Above the old registration desk, foot-high words carved into the wood spelled out the club’s motto, Ride. Fight. Defend.
Tempting smells that had Mav’s stomach growling came through the mess hall door—proof that Bunny, Haven, and Cora were putting together a fantastic, celebratory Sunday dinner—but Maverick led Mike in the other direction, toward the big rec room where about thirty Ravens were waiting.
A round of applause and cheers erupted as Maverick and Mike walked into the big rectangular room and made their way toward Dare, standing in front of the bar.
“Dare,” Maverick said when the ruckus died down, “I’m proud to sponsor Mike Renner for prospective membership into the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club.” After the insanity of Friday night’s raid on the Iron Cross, it felt really fucking good to have something positive for the club to focus on.
Dare reached behind him and grabbed a denim cutoff jacket with black leather patches sewn on here and there. “Mike, are you interested in becoming a member of the Raven Riders?”
“Yes, I am.” Wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans, he stood solemnly with his hands clasped in front of him.
“Are you committed to learning about the club, supporting its activities, being a brother in actions, not just name, protecting the club and its business, and putting your loyalty to the Ravens above all else?” Dare asked, nailing the younger man with his dark stare. The words sucked Maverick back into his own induction ceremony at the age of eighteen. He could still remember the pride he’d felt at standing next to Dare as Doc asked them these same questions and they became brand-new prospects together.
Mike nodded, his expression serious. “I am.” An approving murmur rolled through the group.
“The Raven Riders is more than just a club. It’s a brotherhood of men who share similar interests, interests that include standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It’s a family of choice, made up of the brothers and their kin—a family that protects and takes care of its own. We ride, we fight, and we defend as one. If you want to be a part of the Raven Riders, declare your intentions and accept your prospective status by putting on this cut.” Dare held up the jacket for all to see. Unlike the cuts of the fully patched members, a prospect’s cut lacked the Raven Riders’ patches and name and location rockers, or badges, on the back. Instead, both the back and the chest simply read, Prospect. The full patches had to be earned. “Wearing it proclaims your loyalty and membership until such time as we deem you fit for fully patched status.”