Biggie: Motorcycle Club Romance (Savage Saints MC Book 12)

by Hazel Parker

  Bold? Yes. Did it jinx it? Maybe. Did I feel apologetic about that? Not in the slightest.

  Jack was mine. I was Jack’s.

  And as the lovemaking climaxed with him on top of me, kissing me, moaning into my mouth as he unloaded his seed into my wet sex, I knew that whatever came of this moment—or any like it—the two of us were going to be side by side until the very end.

  It was the moments after coitus, though, the ones in which he gently kissed me, the ones in which he held my head close to him, the ones in which his body remained pressed into mine, that were the ones that I would remember for a long, long time.

  “You know,” Jack said, his words sounding like that of a dull droll, a man who barely had his wits about him. “I know you’re not supposed to say this right after sex.”

  “Hmm?”

  I know what’s coming. It’s going to be wonderful.

  “But damnit, I just need to say it. I love you, Lilly.”

  Yes, it was just as wonderful as I had expected. The surge of comfort coursing through me, the joy emanating from me, the certainty of the feeling…it was real.

  “There’s never a bad time to say that, Jack,” I said, putting my hands on his face. “Because it will allow me to say something back to you. I love you too, Jack.”

  Jack could only respond with a kiss. It was just as well—trying to find words that could top what was just said was all but impossible.

  “You know, that should be something in your next book,” Jack said. “Create a romance novel!”

  “Oh, please, nothing can top this,” I said with a laugh. “And, oh, shit!”

  “Huh?”

  “My laptop. It’s back at that house. It’s probably destroyed. It’s—”

  Jack held up a finger. He reached over the side of the bed, grabbed his phone, and held it up to me. It was a message from Marcel, stating that he had my laptop whenever I wanted to come and get it.

  “Goddamnit, Jack, how are you so perfect?” I said as I moved his phone aside to kiss him.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I do know this. You are perfection, Lilly.”

  “No,” I said.

  I promise this will be the last one-up.

  “We are perfection.”

  Jack smiled, pulled me in for a kiss, and held me tight. We were, indeed, perfection. This moment was perfection.

  Our lives, now, despite all that we had been through, despite all the troubles that would inevitably crop up, despite all of the collateral from the past week, had become perfect.

  We had the one thing we needed. Each other.

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  In the basement of a church, just minutes before the ceremony many of us had been waiting for, I sat on a chair, quietly reading the paperback version of Fires of the City. Although Lilly had insisted that she didn’t want to know what I thought of it, fearing that I would find an error, there was not a single bad thing I had to say about the book. I didn’t just say that because she was my girlfriend and the girl I planned on marrying, either.

  It was genuinely good. Like much in our lives now, things were genuinely good. We’d gone through an awful lot of hell and lost a lot of good people, but in the process, all of us had gained something much more valuable than any club, any paycheck, any job could provide.

  Love.

  “…for it was not the spirit of the city, but the fires that kept it alive. And it was not the fires of the city that allowed it to thrive, but the love of the citizens that gave it that status.”

  I closed the book, leaned back in the chair, and smiled. It may have been the end of the book, but it was far from the end of Lilly and me. In fact, I dared to say that there would be no end at all in sight. I wouldn’t say anything today, but as soon as things wound down…

  The door busted open. I swung my eyes around and saw Marcel standing there in his white tuxedo, looking every bit the part of the groom.

  “Brother!” he said. “You gotta help me with this bowtie, man. I swear it’s constricting me.”

  “Cuz you started gorging on all of Christine’s cooking, you fool,” I said, letting out the bellow of a laughter that had come to define so much of the past twelve months. “Alright, one second.”

  I stood, placing Fires of the City onto the chair next to me as I went over and helped. Marcel, of course, didn’t need any help; he was just a nervous wreck for his wedding day.

  “You better get used to this,” I said.

  “To what? Dressing up fancy?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said as I pretended to fiddle with his bowtie, knowing full well nothing needed to be done. “Niner and Fitz are already engaged, you know. I’m the only one that hasn’t asked the question.”

  “When are you planning on doing so?”

  Jeez, way to jinx it, I thought with a laugh.

  “Soon enough. Soon enough.”

  “When is soon enough, brother?”

  I shrugged.

  “Next few weeks or so. I want to surprise Lilly.”

  “Do you?” he said, a curious expression on his face. “Then I know just when you need to pop the question.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t hate me for it, but here’s what you should do.”

  * * *

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever, I am happy to introduce…Marcel and Christine Stone!”

  The crowd roared with approval as my brother and his new wife made their way out to the dance floor, making some silly dance moves as they made their way to the middle. My arm went around Lilly as the DJ then announced that it was time for their first dance—moving along to “My Best Friend” by Tim McGraw. We watched in silence, giving Marcel and Christine all the attention they deserved.

  No one, and I mean no one, had done a better job of carrying this club through the aftermath of the previous year than Marcel had. Having lost Uncle and the club members that we had could have cast a pall on the club, but as soon as Kyle was gone and as soon as we had escaped scrutiny from the state, he was the one that rallied morale. He was the one that shifted the emphasis from a bacchanalian, hedonistic lifestyle into one that made a difference in the community.

  Of course, in my peripheral vision, I could see a few more people who had made a difference in helping Marcel—Niner and Carrie; Fitz and Amelia; and all of the other Savage Saints who had flown up to Brooklyn for the wedding. Not every member attended, but Richard, Trace, and their wives, along with Dom, Splitter, BK, and Pork and Mama, had made the trip up.

  The Savage Saints were not just a club. They were a brotherhood. And even when that brotherhood fought, even when that brotherhood had almost all of the continental United States separating them, there was little doubt that we would fight for each other and spread the name—as, in fact, we already had, having launched three satellite clubs in Atlanta, Charlotte, and Boston, respectively, with more on the way.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for their first song together,” the DJ said, drawing polite applause. “But now, Marcel and Christine would like to invite everyone else to partake in their marriage by joining them for this number.”

  And then, just as Marcel had promised me in the groom’s waiting area, “Cupid Shuffle” came on. Naturally, for a bunch of dudes and their girlfriends and wives who had drank too much alcohol, this was the perfect song to distract everyone. Lilly tried to pull me away, but it was time for something different.

  “Come here,” I said. “Marcel’s giving me permission to do this.”

  “To do what?”

  “To just talk,” I said. “I have something to say.”

  Ironically, despite those words, we walked in silence until we got someplace a little more private. I took her outside of the church, down the street, and to a nearby park where there was much less noise. It was only a walk of about five minutes, but it seemed like an eternity.

  “What’s up?” Lilly said, though there was a hint of suspicion in h
er voice.

  “Lilly Robertson,” I said. “When we first started out, we went through things so crazy that they defy definition. How we got through what we did would be too unbelievable for one of your fantasy stories, but one thing that is not a fantasy and is not unrealistic is the love that you and I have shared over this past year. You are, unequivocally, the best thing to ever happen to me. You have stuck with me through some dark times, some good times, and some mundane times, and now, it is time for me to return the favor by promising to stick with you for the rest of my life.”

  I knelt down, reaching into my right pocket. Lilly put her hands to her mouth and started to gasp and sob. Her eyes welled, and I had to fight to control my tears long enough to say the magic words.

  “Lilly,” I said, my voice starting to shake—but not enough to stop me. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. Yes! Yes!” she said, the tears bursting forth in full force.

  I rose, letting my tears stream out of my eyes, and kissed her. I pulled her close and squeezed. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to hold her forever.

  And now, it wasn’t just a want. It was a promise.

  “Oh, hell, yes,” I said, laughing and crying. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “I can’t either,” she said, finally pulling back so she could have some space to breathe. “Wow. Wow. Just…wow. Jack. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I said, moving in for a kiss. “But now, we gotta head back to the wedding. Marcel’s dying to know if this happened!”

  “He knew?” she said, but she seemed more amused and surprised than anything negative.

  “Well, yeah, why do you think I was able to pull you away for a bit?” I said, taking her hand. “Come on. He’s going to be so pumped.”

  I took Lilly back, but this time, instead of nervous silence, there was just unending chatter about how happy both of us were. Both of us skipped, laughed, cried, and did just about everything else in between. I had nervously anticipated this moment for some time, but I was glad Marcel had pushed me to do it now—otherwise, the anticipation might just have killed me.

  When we got back to the wedding, “Don’t Stop Believing” had come on. Although Marcel was dancing with Christine, as soon as he saw us return, he immediately said something to Christine, hurriedly escorted her to us, and smiled nervously.

  “Well?” he said, like a school kid trying to find out what his Christmas presents were.

  I looked to Lilly, who nodded to me.

  “She said yes.”

  “Ahh!” Marcel screamed, embracing me in a bear hug. I embraced him right back, patting him on his shoulder. “You did it, man; you did it. You found the one!”

  “I found the one,” I said. “No, scratch that. We did. We found the one.”

  “Damn right we did,” Marcel said, opening his arms so that Lilly and Christine could join in the group circle.

  “And you know what?” I said. “This, right here? This is what it’s all about. Family. Real, genuine family.”

  Marcel just smiled, patted me on the back, and nodded.

  I had my brother.

  I had my sister-in-law.

  I had my wife.

  I had my family.

  I had everything I ever needed and could ever want, now and forever.

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  Author Bio

  Hazel Parker is known for her contemporary romance writing and loves her bad boys. From bikers, rugged mountain men, and all sorts of sexy alphas, Hazel will have you turning the pages for more.

  She lives on Vancouver Island with her hubby and three kiddos. Most days you will find her in her office with a hot cup of coffee doing what she loves: Concocting ultra-sexy, juicy romances for her fans.

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