by Drew Elyse
“My woman shot that asshole. Whether it was your bullet or hers that hit first, she still fucking fired. I’ll have that on my soul for life, brother. I lay awake at night thinking about that shit. Get fucking nightmares about it.”
We both sat with that knowledge out there between us, neither of us saying a thing because that said it all. At least, I thought it did, until Sketch said more.
“But I don’t lay in that bed alone. I’ve got Ash next to me, and she sleeps through the night. Since you talked to her after it happened, she doesn’t dwell on it. I’ve got that in my arms, so even if I’m up all night thinking about how I could have lost it, I get by knowing I came out on top. And when I drag my ass out of bed, I get to see my little girl smile at me and call me daddy each morning. I get to hear her laugh and spew all the ridiculous shit that comes out of her mouth. Best part is, I know I get that for a lifetime just like I get her mom. And now I’m going to get another kid to give that to me.” He stopped, shaking his head. His face was one of awe over going to be a dad again.
Eventually, he finished, “That’s how I get through. I carry that weight without letting it drag me down because, for them, I’d carry the whole goddamn world if I had to.”
I said the only thing I had to say. “Glad you’ve got that, brother.”
“Not nearly as fucking glad as I am. And, no joke, you get your head on straight before you fuck it up, I’ve got no doubts at all Ember’s the type of woman who could give you the same. You got shit you’re carrying and I get the feeling you’d try to shoulder the weight she’s now got, but she’d make it all feel worth it. She’d make it feel like that weight isn’t so damn heavy. You just gotta open that door for her.”
With that parting shot, he stood and walked out of the gym, leaving me alone with all he’d said.
After my few days of wallowing, I shook myself out of it. I was back to finding ways to keep busy. I’d spent the day before at Deni and Slick’s, trying to keep Deni from losing her mind. Despite the days ticking away, their son had still not made an appearance. It was now two days from “Induction Day” as Deni was calling it, and she was more than mildly impatient to get the show going.
Deni was well past stir-crazy and Slick was even further past giving a shit if his wife was going insane, he wasn’t letting up on enforcing the bed rest her doctor had ordered.
Today, as much as I loved Deni and wanted to help her out, there was no way I was going back. One day I could handle, two would be too much. Ash had volunteered to go keep her company, so I went to the garage with Dad.
I alternated between hanging out in the office with Cami while playing with Levi—who the guys had tricked out the office for so Cami could work and watch her son—and moving around the bays to see what the guys were working on. I’d even helped Dad for a bit on a vintage Dodge D-100 he was restoring for a customer.
I was sitting in the driver’s seat of that truck, just chilling while Dad was on the phone looking for a part when Ace came strolling my way.
“I’m starved,” he announced. “Time to feed me.”
“Do I look like your maid?”
He leaned into the truck, his forearms braced on the roof above the open door. “Are you suggesting I get you a little French maid outfit?”
I knocked my arm against his stomach, not hard enough to send him double, but not a flirty touch either. He backed away a step, rubbing his abdomen. “Now, you owe me lunch.”
I hopped out of the cab and righted my shorts. “Aren’t you capable of feeding yourself?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly.”
I shook my head, already giving in. “Fine. We’ll go to the clubhouse. I’ll make us lunch and bring some back for Dad.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders. “That’s my girl.”
I kind of wanted to punch him again, but I just let it go.
“We’re taking my car, though,” I announced as we made it to the front of the garage.
“Alright,” he agreed brightly.
“And I’m driving,” I added.
He cursed and I grinned big.
Later that evening, I was laid out in bed searching for jobs online, when someone started banging on the door. It was loud, so loud it startled Roscoe from his snooze, and he started barking with menace.
I hurried down the stairs, wondering who thought that kind of knock was necessary and worried there might be something wrong with the club. Dad wasn’t home, and for a terrifying moment, I feared one of the brothers was there to tell me something happened to him.
That fear, and the desire to ease my startled dog, had me pulling open the door without checking to see who was there.
I should have checked. I really, really should have checked. Dad told me since I was a kid you never open the door not knowing what you’d face.
I should have listened.
Without saying a thing, Jager muscled his way inside. He put a hand on my waist, pressing a bit to get me to back up and give him room. As soon as he passed the door, he threw it shut with a bang behind him.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
I tried to back away, but the hand he’d been using to push me out of his way clamped on to hold me in place.
“You aren’t his girl,” he growled.
“Excuse me?”
He moved in until the hard, hot length of his body was against mine. Then, in a tone so low it made me tremble—from fear or lust, I didn’t know, but I was pretty sure it was a mix of both—he repeated, “You aren’t his girl.”
Forcing myself to keep my wits about me, I asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Ace,” he bit out. “You are not fucking his.”
Then, I understood.
I hadn’t seen him, but he must have been there in the garage. He’d heard what Ace said. Heck, he might have been the reason Ace was so intent on getting me out of there. He was trying to keep me from an awkward encounter with Jager.
For that, once I survived this, I would make him a hundred lunches.
“Yeah, I was there,” Jager confirmed, noting the realization in my eyes.
“Jager,” I started, wanting to get this done and him out of my house. He didn’t give me the opportunity to finish.
His mouth came down on mine, hard, rough, and deep. He took advantage of the fact that I’d been about to speak, darting his tongue into my mouth right away. I tried to fight it. I yanked back from his hold, but he followed me, turning us so we slammed into the wall. Then, he pressed me there, giving me nowhere to go.
His kiss was rough, but his tongue was gentle, teasing even. He wasn’t letting me get away as he tried to coax a reaction from me.
It was difficult to hold back, but I was succeeding. I was staying strong. I expected him to get frustrated. I braced for him to pull back and demand I give him what he was after. His dominance was going to be a test of my resolve, I knew. Still, I felt confident I could fight it.
Except, that wasn’t what he did.
Faced with my fight, he didn’t turn aggressive. Instead, he gave me something I’d never had from him.
With a gentleness I would not have been certain he was capable of, his hands left my waist and came up to cup my jaw. His touch was light as one of his thumbs swept over my cheek. That show of tenderness was my undoing. I had no idea whether I was making a huge mistake or not, but I couldn’t deny him when he was being sweet like that for the first time.
So, I didn’t.
I kissed him back.
My kiss had all the frustration, all the anger, all the longing that had been living in me since the last time I’d felt him that close. I wanted to release it all, give all of that feeling to him, and take the sweet he was offering to replace it.
Jager didn’t let me. He didn’t take control, but he didn’t let the kiss turn into the blazing fire I was stoking. He kept it soft and slow. With his hard body closing me in, I felt as secure as I always had with him. What surprised me was his to
uch made me feel cherished. He held me like I was precious to him.
We should have stopped. If I had half a mind to self-preservation, I would have gotten away from him, doing whatever I had to in order to achieve that.
What I did instead might have been stupid, and I might have come to regret it.
But I did it anyway.
I brought my hands up, slipping them beneath his cut. He didn’t hesitate to move his arms, allowing me to pull it off. I didn’t let the leather fall to the ground though. I held onto it. Knowing what it meant to all the brothers, it didn’t belong on the floor.
I moved my mouth away from his enough to say, “Upstairs.”
“Roadrunner?” he asked after Dad.
“He’s watching Levi. Won’t be back for hours,” I explained.
That was good enough for him. I knew it when he bent down, hooked his arms beneath each of my legs, and hoisted me up. I threw my arms around him, his cut still held tight in one hand, and he made his way to the stairs.
I heard Roscoe’s tag jingle as he made to follow us, so I called to him, “Stay, good boy.”
The jingling stopped. Whoever had surrendered Roscoe to the shelter had at least cared enough to train him when they had him.
I let that train of thought fade away as Jager took the first step. I had no reservations about letting him carry me up, even if we were both going up blind. No matter what had happened, I trusted Jager to never let me get hurt.
Neither of us spoke on the way up. There was plenty to say, maybe even too much to undertake it. I stared into Jager’s eyes, seeing more than the wall usually guarding his thoughts. He was open to me, showing me his desire, his affection, the lingering fire of his jealousy. That did more than all the words in the world. At the end of the day, he was letting me see that, and that sight alone told me what I really needed to know.
Jager found the way into my room on his own. I didn’t ask how. Dad had been in the same house since I was seven. He was a brother. Him knowing the layout wasn’t shocking.
Inside, he laid me out on the bed. I watched the surprise on his face when he realized I still had his cut in my hand before he took it from me and laid it across the chair in the corner.
I started to pull off my shirt, but he stopped me with a soft, “Don’t.”
He climbed on the bed, forcing me to lay back as he came over me. He hadn’t undressed aside from kicking off his shoes and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Jager didn’t give me much headspace to do anything with as he started kissing me again. His hands made a slow journey along my side, from my hip to my ribs. My shirt went up with his hand until he cupped my breast. He kept his hand there above my bra, holding me but doing nothing more as we kissed.
Part of me felt silly, like we were a couple of high school kids slowly working our way up to the real thing. Yet, nothing about the skill with which he kissed me was silly. It was deep, powerful despite its gentleness, and it was downright consuming.
I sunk into the feeling, blocking out everything else, not caring if going under meant never resurfacing.
Already worked up and trying to move things along, I ran my hands up his back, not stopping until his shirt caught on his arms. Even then, I tugged at the fabric to make it clear what I wanted. He didn’t move.
I groaned in frustration, the sound swallowed by his mouth. Jager pressed his hips down against me and the sharp ache that elicited echoed through my whole body.
I groaned again and he lifted up, breaking the kiss as he stared down at me. “Patience,” he chided.
“No,” I replied.
Leaning in, he said right against my lips, “Let me give you this.”
How could I argue with that?
Jager took his time, kissing me until I thought I might burn up from the heat of my own desire. When he finally lifted my shirt up and off, I moaned at the pure relief of getting it out of the way. He moved his lips from mine, taking his time worshipping the skin he revealed.
His lips felt like they were stirring flames to life beneath my skin. They traced patterns of pure fire along my abdomen. By the time he removed my bra, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please, Jager,” I begged. “I need you. I can’t wait.”
His eyes were electric, like a storm about to begin the deluge. That dominance innate to him could only just be contained. My pleas made some of that control slip.
His hands were more firm, his movements quicker as he stripped off the rest of my clothes. For the first time, he let me remove his. I reveled in the freedom to touch him, to put my mouth on him. Every other time we had been together, I’d been bound either by actual restraints or his commands to remain still.
As much as I wanted to take the time to enjoy having all of him at my fingertips, I wanted to truly have him far more. It wasn’t something I needed to say. I simply laid back on the pillows, moving my arms up to wrap around his shoulders. He understood.
With a slowness that had my eyes rolling back in my head, he pushed inside. Like every time he was inside me, I marveled at the feel of him. He filled me so completely. Unlike any other time, he didn’t fuck me hard. He moved in and out with slow, controlled motions.
“Feel me,” he commanded on a low groan.
And I did. I so absolutely did. I felt every inch of him enter and retreat. I felt the heat of his body looming over mine, warming me so thoroughly, I forgot what cold felt like. Most importantly, I felt and saw what he was really giving me.
His eyes didn’t leave mine. Even as they were consumed with desire, I could see the way he laid himself bare. I had that, all while having his body in a complete, unhindered way I never had before.
And I knew, down to my soul, the gift he gave me as he took me there, building it slowly until that crest broke with a shattering power, was one I would never forget.
“Jager?” Ember called.
She didn’t need to call out to me. We were still in her bed. I was on my back, Ember on her side pressed half against me, half on top of me. We were close.
Her asking for my attention meant it was time. I’d come back without giving her what she actually needed. She’d let me have her because she trusted that my being there meant I was ready to offer that. And I was.
Ember walking away had been playing on a loop in my mind, shaking the foundation of the life I’d built. Sketch’s little come-to-Jesus shit the other day had made the crack in the wall. Hearing Ace call her his—even if I knew he didn’t mean it, and the dick probably only said it to get a rise out of me—had sent that fucker crumbling down.
I came to her pissed, but that was a front.
It hadn’t sunk in on my way over, but I was there with a fucking purpose that went beyond any game Ace was playing with me.
So, I gave it to her.
“I had a sister.”
Her body got tense. I was fighting against my own doing the same, but I managed to keep calm by focusing on her weight and warmth. I could smell her shampoo, her perfume, the scent of her sweet pussy—it all helped.
I tried to help her relax by rubbing my fingers lightly along her spine. The feel of her soft skin centered me further. Her muscles loosened and her back arched a bit into my touch.
“Had?” she asked.
“Had.” I swallowed, trying to force down the desire to shut her out. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to take off. But Ember was there, laid bare for me. She’d let me have that even after I’d been a fucking dick.
“She’d make it all feel worth it. She’d make it feel like that weight isn’t so damn heavy. You just gotta open that door for her.”
Looking at Ember, her face turned up toward me, I felt the truth of Sketch’s words settle in. He was fucking right. Even with sympathy in her gaze and the lingering worry over what I would do next, hope shone bright in those ice blue eyes.
She wanted this. She’d give it all to me, I just had to open that fucking door.
The appeal of keeping my shit locked up couldn’t t
ouch the appeal of her.
“Jamie,” she whispered, even now trying to help me on my way.
I was startled by her having that knowledge. I hadn’t told Ash that. I hadn’t told a fucking soul that shit.
Seeing my reaction, she explained, “You’ve said the name in your sleep. Just her name. I thought…”
She took her eyes away from me and I knew why. She thought Jamie was a woman I’d been involved with.
Fuck, my Ember. She thought I was hung up on another woman and, despite claiming she was just in it for sex, she’d stuck around. That knowledge, and the not completely unpleasant burn searing through me with it, gave me the push to keep going.
“Yeah, Jamie. She was my little sister. She was ten years younger than me.”
“That’s quite a gap,” she said. She was trying to make me comfortable. I wanted to kiss her for it, but there was no way I’d want to return to this conversation that she needed to happen if I got a taste of her.
“I guess. It was just always the way it was for us. I figured it out later that my mom had trouble getting pregnant after me. My parents wanted to have more kids, so they did fertility treatments and all that shit to get Jamie. The way they were so excited about it got me excited. When Jamie came, I wasn’t upset about not being the only kid anymore. I wasn’t annoyed I was going to have a little girl following me around. I was happy. The first time I saw her at the hospital, I fell in love.”
I could still remember, even after all the years that had passed, being ten years old and holding her little bundled body the first time. I’d thought she looked weird, all small and wrinkly, but I also knew she was ours. Me, Mom, and Dad—she belonged to all of us.
“They let me pick her name,” I went on. “Gave me a couple options. Kayla, Elizabeth, Alyssa…”
“Or Jamie,” she filled in.
“Yeah. I don’t know why they let me choose. I never asked, but I think it might have been to help me feel connected to Jamie. I don’t know. If that was why, I don’t know whether it worked or I just loved her because she was my sister. It doesn’t really matter, I guess.
