His biker girl, Her biker prince

JAXSON.

Warm blood slid down my cheek, and the air around us went dead quiet. My chest burned, not from the cut, hell, that was nothing, but from the fact that this girl had just made me bleed in front of the entire club.

Nobody ever touched me. Nobody dared.

But she stood there with fire in her eyes, calm as hell, like she owned the place.

"You've got balls, princess," I growled, stepping closer, my voice sharp enough to cut. "No one's ever dared to mess with me."

Her glare didn't waver. "No one's ever dared to touch me without my consent, you asshole."

A ripple of murmurs broke through the crowd. Boots shuffled, cigarettes flared, and low whistles cut the tension. My fists itched, my pride screaming for me to shut her down, but then I felt them behind me, heavy footsteps that drew even more eyes.

Ryder came first, tall and cold as stone, his gaze flicking from me to her like he was weighing a threat. Cole wasn't far behind, wearing that cocky grin he always did when trouble brewed.

Ryder's voice was flat. "All this noise for one girl?"

"She's not just any girl," Cole said, eyes glinting. "She made Jax bleed."

Nova stepped forward, tense. "You guys don't need to gang up on her-"

"Stay out of it," I snapped, cold.

The little princess tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Don't worry, Nova. If they want a show, I'll give them one."

My jaw flexed. "Who the hell are you?"

She didn't even blink. "The girl who just proved you're not untouchable."

A low laugh slipped out of me, sharp and humorless. "Cute. One lucky scratch and suddenly you think you're dangerous? Newsflash, sweetheart, standing up to me doesn't make you strong."

Her lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. "All bark, no bite? Maybe that scratch on your face was enough. How about we settle this on the road?"

The lot erupted.

"No fucking way-"

"She just challenged Jax!"

"She's signing her death sentence."

Cole barked out a laugh, clapping Ryder's shoulder. "This I've gotta see."

I smirked, eyes locked on her. "Are you challenging me to a race?"

She stepped closer, chin up. "You heard me."

Ryder arched a brow. "Do you know who you're challenging? Do you know the consequences if you lose?"

"And who said I will lose?" she shot back, steady as stone.

"She's crazy," Ryder muttered.

"She's ballsy," Cole corrected, grinning wide.

My chest tightened with fury and something darker. "Racing you is beneath me. But humiliating you? That might be worth it."

She smirked. "Scared?"

That did it. "Fine. We race. And if you lose, you're mine. Deal?"

Her eyes burned. "If you lose, I get accepted into your club."

The lot roared with disbelief.

"No way in hell!"

"She's fucking insane!"

"She won't even make it past the first turn!"

Cole shook his head, laughing. "Princess, you've got guts. But guts won't save you tonight."

I turned back to her, savoring the stubborn fire in her eyes. "Let's race."

And there it was again, that smirk. Stupid. Reckless. Stupidly attractive.

The bikes were rolled into place, engines rumbling like thunder. I pulled my gloves tight, leather creaking as I locked eyes on her.

Nova fussed with her gloves, whispering something in her ear. The girl didn't look at me once, like I wasn't even there, like she didn't feel the weight of a hundred eyes waiting for her to fall.

We mounted our bikes. She straddled hers with a confidence that shouldn't belong to someone so new. My gaze dragged over the curve of her body as she leaned forward, all fire and sin on chrome.

The bandana girl stepped into the road, arm raised high.

Engines revved. The air grew thick with smoke and gasoline, my pulse matching the rhythm of the machines.

"Three... two..."

The little princess finally looked my way, helmet tilted just enough to flash me a smirk before she snapped it shut.

"...one. GO!"

Tires screamed, smoke swallowed the air, and we shot forward.

The first turn came sharp and fast. I leaned hard, cutting my bike close enough to her that her front wheel nearly kissed my back tire. A scare tactic. Any sane rider would've backed off.

Not her.

She leaned lower, knuckles white, body fluid with the bike, wind clawing at her hair. The fire in her didn't dim-it burned brighter.

"Fuck me," I snarled under my breath.

We tore down the straightaway, my engine roaring as I surged ahead. I flung gravel in her path, a dirty move. She only gritted through it, closing the gap again, riding me like my own goddamn shadow.

Then came the corner. I slowed a fraction, she didn't.

She dove inside my line, reckless as hell, taking the turn so tight her knee nearly scraped the asphalt. Gasps ripped through the crowd.

"She's out of her mind!"

"No one rides like that!"

"She just cut Jax off!"

For a second, I thought she'd wipe out. But she didn't. She flew past me, engine howling like a war cry.

Adrenaline surged through me, hot and wild. I snarled, ripping the throttle to take the lead back. We hit another stretch, neck and neck, engines screaming, sparks spitting from metal scraping asphalt.

The finish line came into sight, headlights marking the end. I pushed harder, edging ahead by inches. Victory burned on my tongue.

Then she did it.

She turned her head mid-race, at breakneck speed, she turned to look at me.

Helmet tilted. Body bent low. Her ass pushed high as she leaned deeper into the bike, showing me curves that had no business distracting me in the middle of a race.

My blood went molten.

For one split second, I forgot the finish line. Forgot the roar of engines. Forgot everything but her.

And that's all she needed.

She cut across, clean and ruthless, sliding right in front of me. My chest slammed with fury as she surged ahead, crossing the line before I even registered it was over.

The lot exploded.

"She beat him!"

"No fucking way!"

"She just smoked Jaxson King!"

I slowed, pulling my bike back as my grip tightened until the leather creaked. My pride burned hotter than the scrape on my face.

She'd beaten me.

The unthinkable.

And yet all I could think was how fucking hot she looked doing it.