Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Includes bonus novel Kinged!) (24 page)

As I sat there, the sound of a motorcycle in the distance made my heart race. I always felt that way whenever Ford was coming home. We’d been together for a while now, but that feeing hadn’t faded at all.

I was fully, deeply, crazily in love with him.

I watched as he rounded the bend and parked his bike right out front.

“You’re home early,” I called out.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he said, grinning. He climbed off the bike. “How’s my wife doing?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask her.”

He laughed. I stood up, putting my mug on the ground, and he swept me up in a huge hug.

He kissed my neck, my lips. I smiled at him. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“Fine. You don’t have to keep asking.”

He laughed. “Listen, woman, you got my baby growing inside you now. I’m going to fuckin’ ask when I want.”

I laughed, smiling hugely. I was just beginning to show, a little tiny baby bump in my stomach. He put his hand over it, though he couldn’t feel anything yet.

I kissed his lips. “You’re incredible,” I said.

“Damn right I am.” He knelt down in front of me and kissed my stomach. “And my baby is going to be fuckin’ incredible too.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on, get up.”

He stood and followed me inside, slapping my ass. I laughed as I grabbed him a beer. He cracked it open, grinning. “I got you something.”

“Oh yeah?”

He pulled out a small box from his jacket.

“Ford,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Wait.” He dropped down to one knee. “Listen, Caralee. I’m in love with your sexy pregnant ass. I’m going to love you hard, rough, and however you want it for as long as you want it. Be my wife?”

I laughed. “Yes. Of course.” I took the box and opened it, gasping. “Ford!”

He stood. “You like it?”

“Of course I like it!”

The ring was perfect. It was a cluster ring, made of perfect little diamonds. I had no clue how much it had cost, but it had to have been expensive. I slipped it on my finger, and it fit perfectly.

“What’s this for?” I asked him.

“Figured you’d like an engagement ring. We never did do that.”

I shook my head and kissed him hard.

Ford, my man, my badass biker. My husband, my baby’s father. The man was hard as rock when he was with the club, but he was beginning to soften the farther along my pregnancy went.

Soon, he’d be just another dad, cooing and laughing at everything his kid did.

I kissed him hard as he wrapped his arms around me.

We stood like that in the cabin, our cabin in the woods, our little piece of land. Ford would have to build an extension pretty soon, but for now, it was just right.

Everything was just right. The baby, the man, the life. It was more than I could have imagined all those months ago, way more than I could have guessed.

It was love. It was family.

I was the biker’s bride and I always would be.

He kissed me and I kissed him back, kissed him again, and again, and again.

Thank You!

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Keep reading for the full text of
Kinged
!

Can you handle more pulse-pounding steamy alphas? Then you should read
Step Bride
!

I’m the mobster’s forbidden bride.

I never wanted to do anything crazy. I’m a good girl, the total opposite of my reality TV star mother.

But in Vegas, anything can happen. Even marrying a rich, handsome stranger.

He has a ripped body and the cocky attitude to match.
His name is Lucas, and he’s the dirty-talking heir to the Barone crime family.

I don’t know why he wanted to get married, but I couldn’t stop saying yes over and over again.

And it gets worse.

My crazy mother eloped with his mafia father. We’re one big happy family, right?

Lucas is so arrogant that he won’t let me go.
I’m his wife, his step bride, and I’m stuck living with this secret in his family’s heavily guarded mansion.

If his dangerous father finds out the truth about us, we’re totally screwed. With a rat in the mob and the Russians coming after everyone, we’re living on the razor’s edge.

I need to divorce him. I need to stop wanting him.
I need to get out of this situation before both our families are torn to pieces.

Click here to read it on Amazon!
Or keep reading for the full text of
Kinged

People don’t realize how chaotic real fights are.

I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when a group of bro douche-types spilled out from the open doors of an annoyingly loud bar. One guy in a popped collar nearly toppled into me, and their little crowd was blocking the sidewalk. People were yelling and screaming, girls running everywhere, and the two idiot dudes were flailing around at each other like little kids. Everyone was too drunk to realize how awful they were acting.

I couldn’t tell what the fight was about, but I had better things to do. Before I got a chance to walk away, though, one of the brawlers, a guy in boat shoes, short cargo shorts, and a pink polo shirt, got pushed directly into this cute young chick. The girl went down, her long blonde hair everywhere, and the guy went back after the other dude without so much as a “sorry.”

That pissed me off. I wouldn’t normally get involved, but violence against women was always a problem. I walked over, reached down, and helped the girl climb to her feet. She looked up at me with these deep blue eyes, and it hit me square in the chest how fucking hot she was. Full lips that wouldn’t stop, a body she clearly worked on, and perfect blonde hair. I knew right away this wasn’t the kind of girl who went for a dude like me, but whatever. Her eyes ran down my arms, along my muscles, and lingered over my tattoos. I guessed she didn’t know what they meant since her expression didn’t change, which was good for her.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. I grunted in return.

“Stay clear of this,” I said.

“Who are you?”

I didn’t bother answering. I took her by the arm and led her a few feet away from the crowd, gave her a look, like, “stay here if you’re smart,” and then waded into the pile.

The ring was three people deep at that point, but they parted for me easily enough. More people were spilling into the street, and I knew I only had a few minutes before the cops got there. I had to make it quick.

The two brawlers were locked with each other, wrestling like morons. Pink polo was trying to spear button-down boy, but instead they were yelling and stumbling in circles like idiots. I pushed my way through the front of the crowd and entered the space.

I heard some people yell something at me, but I ignored them. Fuck those pussies, whoever they were. Everyone was too much of a coward to get involved. Plus, that guy deserved what was coming.

I walked up to the two of them, and shoved the pink polo guy down. He toppled over like a toy, and almost took button-down boy with him. I turned to button-down boy, and as he tried to give me a high five, thinking I’d come to help him, I dropped my hip and punched him in the jaw with a satisfying crack. He went down faster than I’ve ever seen. I guessed the boy had never taken a real punch before, but it was never too late to learn how. He was at least in his mid-twenties, and I’d been beaten more times than I could count by the time I was eighteen. And this pussy couldn’t even stay on his feet.

The crowd let out a gasp and went silent. I looked around, seething with rage, and their faces were scared and blank. Typical rich assholes, yuppies, and douchebag bros, the kind of people who mocked me when I was a kid and ignored me when I was grown. Fuck all of them.

Polo guy was climbing to his feet, and he looked confused. Before he had a chance to figure things out, I advanced on him. He had the brains to put his fists up, and even threw a weak right. I ducked it, stepped in, and jabbed him in the nose with my left, hard. He stumbled back a step and put his hands to his face, crying out. I followed with a leap in the air and dropped my fist onto his face. He went down, just like his buddy did.

Before anyone else decided to be a hero, I pushed back through the crowd and made my way down the street. I had to get away as fast as possible before the cops started looking for me. Plus, I was already late for the fight at Drake’s, which meant Michael was probably going to be pissed. I walked quickly, but I didn’t run. I had to keep cool or else give myself away. This wasn’t my first escape, though, and I knew a few shortcuts out of there. I kept walking, and didn’t look back.

I really hated fucking assholes that hit women.

I
didn’t realize how chaotic real fights were.

It was a brisk summer night and I was half drunk. The girls I had gone out with were totally boring, and I felt homesick for New York, but there was no going back anymore. I took a drag of my bummed cigarette then dropped it on the sidewalk and stubbed it out. It was a gross habit, and I wasn’t really much of a smoker. On the weekends I indulged sometimes, and I was feeling particularly down that night. I tried not to think about what my breath smelled like.

Before I could slip further into my personal misery, a huge group of people came smashing out of the bar. Two guys, one in a button-down shirt and one in an ugly pink polo were fighting, and people swarmed around them like bugs. I moved to get out of their way, but was too slow. Before I could take a step, pink polo guy smashed right into me, his elbow catching my eye, and I tumbled down hard.

I think I saw stars, but it might have just been the arms that helped me up. Covered in complex tattoos, they were ripped. I looked up at the guy, and my breath was suddenly sucked out of my body. His eyes were bright forest green, deep pools of anger and pain, and his face was covered in thin stubble. He had a small scar across his right eyebrow, and his nose looked like it had been broken in the past. Despite that, he was incredibly handsome, and I was absolutely struck by his lean, muscular physique. He was tall, easily over six feet, and I could sense something dangerous about him. Honestly, he was fucking hot, and I was blown away.

I realized I was staring. “Thanks,” I said quietly, unable to summon enough strength to say anything more.

He grunted in response. Totally cliché, super manly kind of grunt, but he pulled it off.

“Stay clear of this.” He had a deep, gravelly voice.

“Who are you?” I asked, and realized how badly I wanted to know. There was something hypnotizing about him, about his body, and his face.

Instead of answering, he grabbed me by the arm and tugged me off to the side. I was too shocked to resist. The asshole seriously had the audacity to touch me and physically steer me where he wanted. There was something in his touch, firm and commanding, that made me follow along. Once we were a few feet away from the growing crowd, he gave me this weird look, like it was a good idea for me to listen to him or something. Before I could say anything more, he was gone.

I watched him walk off and start pushing through the crowd. I stood there gaping at his back, his thin, tight black T-shirt clinging to his muscled body and his cutoff jean shorts contouring his perfectly sculpted ass. I hadn’t seen a man like him in the whole city yet, and I liked it. Before he got too far, I started to follow him.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. He pushed directly into the ring of people and approached the two guys who were fighting. This man didn’t even pause as he shoved one dude to the ground and knocked the other one out. There was something graceful and dangerous about the way he moved, like he was used to being in a ring of screaming people. As soon as the first guy dropped, the crowd went silent, and there was a palpable fear suddenly rippling through everyone. The second guy, the asshole who knocked me over, approached, and tried to fight back. My sexy mystery man was too fast though, and ended up doing this crazy mid-air knockout, and sent the polo dude flying.