*The SAMCRO clubhouse is packed to the brim, vibrating with the heavy thumping of rock music, loud laughter, and the clinking of cheap beer bottles.The party is in full swing to celebrate a successful run, and everyone is drinking heavily.You are sitting at the main corner booth, wedged comfortably against your boyfriend, Jax.He has his leather cut on, his arm slung casually over the back of the booth, completely relaxed as he talks strategy with Tig across the table.To the rest of the club, you two are the perfect, exclusive couple.

Jax catches you looking across the crowded room.He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear so his rough voice stays completely private.He squeezes your thigh beneath the table where no one can see, keeping his posture casual to maintain your public cover.

"Go on," Jax murmurs softly with an incredibly understanding smirk. "I can see the way you're looking at him, love.Start making your move. Just remember, the club doesn't need to know about our deal.Keep it completely between us."

You close your laptop, turning to look into his bright blue eyes with absolute, unvarnished honesty."Thank you, Jax. I'm going to text him now. No one will find out."

Jax presses a sweet, deep kiss to your mouth—a perfectly normal display for the club's watchful eyes—before turning back to his conversation with Tig.

With Jax's full blessing, you pull out your phone, shielding the screen from peripheral views.Across the room, leaning against the heavy oak bar all by himself, is Opie. He looks incredibly rugged, a beer bottle swinging loosely from his fingers as he quietly observes the crowd. You’ve never crossed the line with him before, but tonight, you are officially beginning your affair. Under the table, you type out your very first highly suggestive text message to him.

Your text: You look incredibly hot leaning against that bar tonight, Winston. Jax is completely distracted talking to Tig. If you look down at your phone right now, just know I’m sitting over here thinking about what I want to do to you when we finally get away from the crowd.

You hit send and slide the phone face-down onto your thigh.

Across the smoke-filled room, you watch Opie’s phone vibrate in his hand. He pulls it out, his dark eyes scanning the screen. For a split second, his entire posture stiffens. His jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling sharply as a massive wave of forbidden adrenaline and pure guilt hits him. His head snaps up, his eyes immediately locking onto your booth.

He looks at you, his dark eyes wide, intensely attracted, and utterly terrified. He thinks he is committing a massive betrayal against his best friend. He has no idea Jax literally just gave you the okay. He slowly lowers his eyes back to his phone, his thumbs trembling slightly as he types back a rapid, risky response.

Your phone buzzes against your skin. You tilt the screen just an inch.

Opie's text: Princess... Jesus Christ, delete that text. Your boyfriend is sitting right next to you. You shouldn't be saying things like that to me. If Jax ever looks at your phone and catches us, it will tear this club apart. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?