The Biker’s Obsession

Chapter One

My poor car died with a sad, sputtering cough. It left me completely stranded on the side of the dark, lonely highway like a total fool. I smacked the steering wheel with the palm of my hand and let out a loud, frustrated groan.

"Great. Just great," I muttered to myself.

I checked my phone. No signal. I knew my spare tire was completely flat, too. The only sign of life for miles around was a bright, rowdy-looking building glowing in the distance. It was the local biker bar, a place owned and run by the Iron Reapers motorcycle club.

I knew better than to go there. Everyone in this town knew better. The Iron Reapers were dangerous men who lived by their own rules. But tonight, I was desperate, deeply heartbroken, and officially out of options.

I grabbed my small purse, locked the doors of my useless car, and started walking down the dark road. The heavy thumping of loud music and the rough roar of male laughter grew louder with every step. Gravel crunched loudly under my sneakers. My heart pounded harder and faster against my ribs. By the time I reached the front entrance and pushed open the heavy wooden door, my palms were sweaty and my stomach was tied in tight knots.

The intense smell hit me first. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, cheap whiskey, and heavy leather. The large room was completely packed with huge, tough-looking bikers. They all wore black leather vestscalled cutswith scary patches on the back. White skulls and sharp scythes stared right back at me from the fabric. A few of the women sitting with them shot me very curious, unfriendly looks. I felt completely out of place in my simple blue jeans, plain white tank top, and light gray cardigan.

I took a shaky breath, trying to look brave. My eyes scanned the crowded room, searching through the smoke, until they finally landed on him.

Tyler.

He was leaning casually against the wooden bar. He had his muscular arm wrapped tightly around a pretty blonde girl, laughing loudly at whatever she was whispering in his ear. This was the exact same Tyler who had kept me trapped in the "friend zone" for two long years. He was the reason I had driven all the way back to my hometown for the weekend. I had planned to finally confess my deepest feelings to him.

Instead, my chest tightened with a sharp, painful ache. This painful sight was exactly why I had come inside. And there he was, looking completely into someone else, entirely unaware that I even existed.

Before I could lose my nerve and run away, my gaze shifted across the room. I looked toward the far end of the bar, where one man sat completely alone. He sat there like he owned the entire county, the bar, and every single soul inside it.

Stone.

Even if he wasn’t wearing the large "President" patch on his leather vest, I would have known he was the most dangerous man in the room. He was absolutely massive. He had incredibly broad shoulders, thick arms covered in dark ink, and a powerful presence that made the very air around him feel heavy and hot. He had short dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes so black they seemed to swallow all the light in the room. A jagged scar slashed right through his left eyebrow. He looked like pure trouble wrapped in raw, masculine power.

And he was already staring right at me.

My legs felt like water, but I forced myself to walk straight toward him. I didn't look back at Tyler. I kept my eyes locked on the predator in front of me. I stopped right in front of his high bar stool. I was standing so close I could catch his intoxicating scenta mix of expensive leather, rich tobacco, and something deeply, darkly masculine that made my skin tingle.

Stone took a slow, deliberate sip of his amber whiskey. His dark, intense eyes never left my face.

"Lost, little dove?" he growled. His voice was deep, rough, and gravelly. It sent a sudden, hot shiver racing straight down my spine.

I swallowed the lump in my dry throat. "I need your help."

One of his dark eyebrows lifted slightly. A small hint of dark amusement crossed his hard, handsome face. "You know whose bar you just walked into, sweetheart?"

"I do," I said. I tried to keep my voice steady, though it trembled just a little bit. "I know exactly who you are. You’re Stone. You are the President of the Iron Reapers."

He set his heavy glass down on the counter with a soft thud. He leaned forward slowly, resting his thick, tattooed forearms on the bar. The sudden movement made the hard muscles in his arms flex powerfully under his tanned skin.

"Then you’re either very brave, or you are very fucking stupid," he murmured, his dark eyes tracking the movement of my lips. "Which one is it, little dove?"

I glanced quickly over my shoulder. Tyler still hadn’t noticed me. He was too busy smiling at the blonde. My sadness turned into a hot spark of anger.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I blurted out my crazy plan before I could chicken out. "I want you to pretend to date me. Just for a couple of weeks. Just long enough to make someone in this room very jealous. I’ll pay you whatever you want. I can give you money, do favors, anything. Just… please pretend to be mine."

A heavy silence fell between us.

Then, Stone let out a low, dangerous laugh. It was a dark sound that made several bikers nearby turn their heads to look at us. He looked genuinely entertained by my desperation, which somehow made him seem even scarier.

"You’ve got some real balls walking in here and saying that to me." His dark gaze dragged slowly down my body, lingering on the exposed skin of my collarbone, down to my chest, and then all the way back up to my eyes. The intense look made a bright, burning heat flood my cheeks. "Why the fuck would I agree to play pretend boyfriend for some desperate little civilian girl like you?"

"Because I’m asking you nicely," I said, finding a sudden burst of courage. I took one bold step closer to him, until my knee softly brushed against his heavy, denim-clad thigh. "And because you look like a man who doesn’t get surprised very often. I thought this might actually entertain you."

Something shifted instantly in his black eyes. The lazy amusement turned into something much darker. Hungrier. More predatory.

He stood up from his stool very slowly, completely towering over me. At six-foot-four, he made me feel incredibly small and fragile. He stepped so deep into my personal space that I had to tilt my head all the way back just to meet his piercing stare. The heat radiating off his massive body was intense, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

"You have no idea what you’re really asking for, Tessa," he murmured.

My breath hitched. I hadn’t told him my name. But of course, a man like him already knew exactly who I was.

His large, calloused fingers reached out. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His hand didn't drop away; instead, his warm fingers lingered at the sensitive side of my neck. His thumb rested right against my racing pulse. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but it felt like a heavy, unspoken warning.

"If I say yes to this little game," he continued, his voice dropping into a low, commanding rumble that vibrated right through my chest, "we do this entirely my way. You wear my patch in public so everyone knows who you belong to. You sleep at my clubhouse. You let every single personespecially your little crush over therebelieve that you are completely mine. And when I say it’s over… that is the only time it’s over."

My pulse thundered wildly in my ears. My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could feel it beneath his thumb. This was supposed to be a fake relationship. It was supposed to be a safe, silly plan to make Tyler finally notice me.

But the way Stone was looking at me right nowlike he was already claiming every single part of memade my stomach flip with equal parts fear and a strange, hot desire that I didn't want to name. He wasn't looking at me like a helper. He was looking at me like a man who had just found his next meal.

I thought about Tyler. I thought about him laughing with that other girl, ignoring me for two long years. I thought about being invisible, always waiting, always hurting. I was tired of being the safe, quiet girl.

"Deal," I whispered, the word slipping out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Stone’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. It was the smile of a wolf that had just trapped a little lamb. He hooked one thick finger under my chin, tilting my face up higher to meet his lips. His rough thumb brushed slowly across my full lower lip, pressing down just enough to make a sudden jolt of electricity shoot straight through my body.

"Welcome to the wrong side of the tracks, little dove," his voice dropped even lower, becoming a dark, sexy whisper meant only for me. "Try your best not to get addicted to me."