Page 17 of The Biker and the Single Mom

"Please," I managed. "I need⁠—"

"I know what you need." He rose over me, positioned himself at my entrance. "Eyes on me, Rory."

I met his gaze as he pushed inside, slow and deep, both of us gasping at the sensation. Perfect. Complete. Right.

He moved then—slow, deep thrusts that hit something inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. His mouth found mine, swallowing my moans, and I clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world.

"So good," he groaned against my neck. "You feel so damn good."

The pleasure built, coiling tight and hot in my core. His thumb found where we were joined, circling in time with his thrusts, and I shattered. Came apart in his arms with his name on my lips.

He followed a heartbeat later, his body going rigid, my name breaking from his throat. We collapsed together, gasping for air, tangled so completely I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

"I'm falling for you," I whispered against his chest, listening to his pulse race.

His arms tightened around me. "Already fell, sweetheart. Weeks ago."

I tilted my face up to meet his gaze. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He kissed me soft and sweet. "You and Luna? You're everything I didn't know I needed."

"We're yours." The certainty settled warm in my chest. "For as long as you'll have us."

"Then you're stuck with me forever." He pulled the blanket over us, gathering me close. "Because I'm not letting either of you go."

I fell asleep in his arms, more secure than I'd been in years. Luna sleeping soundly down the hall. The club brothers standing watch outside. Doc's steady heartbeat beneath my ear.

This was home.

This was family.

This was everything.

CHAPTER 5

DOC

Three weeks in, and Diesel was bleeding out on my table.

"Stay with me, brother." Gauze pressed against the knife wound in his side, my hands moving with the precision that came from three tours and too many combat zones. "You're not dying in my clinic."

"Wasn't planning on it," he managed through gritted teeth.

The blade had gone deep. Nicked an artery. I could see it in the blood flow, the way his breathing had gone shallow. This needed to be fast and clean or I'd lose him.

Pope stood by the door, Hammer at his side. Waiting. Watching. Ready to call it if I couldn't save him.

I didn't give them a reason to call it.

My hands didn't shake. Not once. Not when I made the first incision. Not when I found the bleeder and clamped it. Not when I sutured layer by layer, methodical and steady.

The brothers had gotten into it with some Iron Serpents at a bar two towns over. Diesel had taken a blade meant for Hammer. Now I was keeping him breathing while sirens wailed somewhere in the distance.

"Done," I said forty minutes later, stepping back. "He'll live."

Pope's shoulders dropped. "Good work, Doc."

Stripping off my gloves, I finally let myself register what had just happened. Emergency surgery. Life or death situation. High stress, everything on the line.