by Addison Jane
I frowned and folded my arms across my chest. “Dakota, the last thing I would ever describe you as is incapable or fucking less than.”
“It might surprise you when I say I wasn’t always so…” she licked her lips as she fought to find the right word.
“Exuberant? Outrageous? Fucking crazy?”
“All of the above,” she replied with a grin. “I was adopted. My, uh… my real parents left me on the steps of the police station when I was about three years old. They didn’t even bother to let anyone know. They didn’t call 911 or even knock on the door. They just left me there.”
Fuck.
I clenched my fists in anger as I watched the brightness of her eyes dim just a little.
That alone left an ache in my chest.
The story sounded familiar.
It sounded like mine.
I was shocked.
I couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to walk away from someone so beautiful, so full of life because right now, I was wondering whether I would be able to.
DAKOTA
His fists clenched and one side of his lip curled up in a snarl. “Motherfuckers…” The sharpness to his tone told me just how furious he was at the idea, that alone made me feel kind of warm, even though I’d never met a person so far who’d heard my story and been anything but sympathetic. Coming from Ripley, it just felt different.
“My dad had just returned from a call out and saw the bundle on the steps. By the time he got to me, I was hypothermic, and it was touch and go about whether I was going to make it.” I could feel the burning at the back of my throat. I fought to blink away the tears that were welling in my eyes, and when that didn’t work, I tried to disguise them with a laugh. “So, my dad never left my side. And eventually, he and my mom decided I was already theirs, and they just needed to make it official.” I took a deep breath and shrugged like this story didn’t steal a part of me every single time I told it.
“Do you remember your parents?” he asked curiously, his head tilted just to the right. He looked like a little owl, it made me smile.
“Not really. I wouldn’t know them if I walked past them on the street. I wouldn’t know them if I met them in a store.” That didn’t really bother me. “I grew up with two amazing parents and a family that I love. The fact that they were so willing to give me up says a lot about who they were as people. So after years and years of crying and wondering, I had to remember that I didn’t want to be a part of a family who could so easily toss me out in the cold and not care whether I would live or die.”
Ripley was quiet.
His eyes stayed on me, but I could tell there was a part of his brain that was ticking over and over, processing the information I’d told him.
“My mom didn’t want me either,” he murmured finally, digging his hand into his pocket and dragging out a packet of gum. I wanted to say something, tell him I was sorry, but I knew it wouldn’t mean anything. “Drake’s always had the same attitude as you… why would he want to be around someone who wouldn’t choose to be around him.”
I swallowed back the emotional lump in my throat, forcing it back down, knowing that wasn’t what he needed. “But you miss her?”
His brow pulled together, and he dropped his head for a moment so his chin was almost sitting on his chest.
This was a Ripley I had no idea existed a week ago.
He was open, he was exposed, and there was a vulnerability that I’d never seen before. I knew what he was feeling. It was scary, sharing with someone the one thing in your life that really broke you and tore you down. Sometimes it feels like just the acknowledgment of it is going to destroy you all over again.
But this was different.
I’d given him a piece of me, and now he was giving me a piece back.
“I don’t miss her as such,” he finally answered, looking surer of himself. “I just wished I could have helped her. I wish it hadn’t been that way. It didn’t have to be.”
My chest ached for him. I’d heard the story before. I’d heard Meyah and Huntsman talk about it, and Meyah had explained a few things here and there, but this had given me a new perspective. Not just about what happened, but how it had made Ripley the man he was today.
“I wish I could say something to make it better,” I declared quietly. “But I know how annoying that can be when people try and sugarcoat it.”
He huffed out a laugh and nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t I know it.”
“Like aww… I bet they think about you every day. I bet they’re proud of you.” I shook off the words I’d heard a million times. They annoyed me, they drove me fucking crazy coming from people who’d never experienced this kind of loss before.
This wasn’t a grandparent dying, it wasn’t someone who’s sick, who has no choice because their body is shutting down. This is about people choosing to walk away from you. Choosing to say that you aren’t enough for them, and that they would much rather take a different path.
One that doesn’t include you.
“Why would they be proud of me? They left. They didn’t turn back. They didn’t fight for me.” I was starting to get emotional. I usually didn’t. Normally, I could speak about this with a joke and a laugh, but instead, I could feel my heart beginning to beat a little faster and my throat burning with tears. “Dammit, sorry,” I cursed, turning back toward the door.
Before I could make it, Ripley reached out, grabbing and spinning me back toward him. He pulled me to his body as he pressed my back against the wall.
The air around us swirled and buzzed as he held me there, our bodies illuminated by the bright lights in the workshop, here for everyone to see and not hiding in the shadows. He braced his hands on either side of me, dipping his head so I could clearly see his eyes. “They’re missing out,” he whispered, his voice rough and raspy but at the same time could never be mistaken for weakness.
I inhaled a sharp breath.
When he touched me, I couldn’t help but lean into him when he cradled my face.
That feeling was returning. I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt like I could stay in this moment forever with him surrounding me, and I would never have to worry about anything else.
“There’s not many people out there who would fight for me,” I murmured, raising my hand and placing my palm against his hot chest. I moved forward, as much as he would allow, until I was close enough to get on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. He stayed frozen. “So, thank you.”
I moved to pull back, but he barely let me get an inch. “Fuck, Pixie,” he cursed under his breath, reaching up and wrapping his fingers in my hair, not even allowing me the chance to take a breath before his lips crashed into mine. Strangely enough, I could tell he was being gentle, trying not to hurt me, which both warmed me a little and annoyed the hell out of me too.
I didn’t want watered-down Ripley.
Watered-down Ripley wasn’t the guy who drove me crazy, he wasn’t the guy who could make me instantly turn into some kind of dirty hussy the moment he spoke.
He pulled back just slightly to take a breath. “Pixie?” I queried, pressing forward, seeking more. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it was becoming more common. “Is that meant to be another joke about me being short?”
He smirked and pulled my face closer, his hand cradling my jaw. “Maybe, but I kind of like it.”
I wouldn’t admit it, but I kind of did too.
His mouth captured mine, probably afraid that I’d make some kind of protest if he didn’t.
My heart was racing, pounding out of my chest and forcing all the blood to what felt like one place—my clit. It throbbed harder and harder as his mouth swallowed every fucking involuntary moan. He kept one hand threaded through my hair as he pushed me back, holding me against the wall, while the other slid down the curve of my body until it landed on my ass. He squeezed it hard, pulling my hips forward against him making me gasp.
My head was foggy, and I was thrown off by the
way my body was reacting to him. I shouldn’t have been, though. I’d spent far too long thinking that I wanted to date the good boys, the boys next door, the boys with secure futures, the boys who would remember our anniversary and buy me flowers on Valentine’s Day.
Turned out, the good boys were never going to win.
Because nothing fucking compared to the way my body lit on fire from just one damn kiss.
His kiss.
Holy shit.
He pulled back leaving me gasping for air but chasing his lips for more, not caring if I passed out right now from lack of oxygen. My entire body felt like it was sparking and fizzing like static surrounded us and each time we touched another shock went straight through me.
“Fuck, Dakota,” he growled as he stared down at me, his chest heavy with breath, each one matching my own and his eyes bright and dangerous.
I was out of my depth with this.
Tease Ripley about his hair or his clothes. Sure. Easy.
Make dumb comments about how I had to get glasses after seeing him naked because he’d burned my retinas. No problem.
Realize just how much my body aches for him to touch me, to kiss me, while trying not to just plead with him to carry me back to his cave like some caveman and fuck the life out of me. Fucking problem.
“Tell me you want this as fucking bad as I do,” he demanded. His lips traced my jaw, and his fingers trailed my panty line driving me fucking crazy in anticipation.
Everything else was out the window. Right now, I was just desperate to feel, and Ripley made my body come so alive I could help but. My mouth fell open, and my eyes fluttered closed as he nipped at my neck. I was completely unable to form any kind of response, which he obviously wasn’t about to put up with.
He pulled at the elastic on the leg of my panties, then let it go so it snapped back against my skin. The sting made me jump and instantly shove him away.
“Ripley,” I hissed, glaring at him.
He smirked back at me, his body crowding mine again, but this time I was partially on the defensive.
“I asked you a question,” he urged, boxing me in again.
I stood my ground, standing tall, even though that pushed us closer together. I smiled sweetly. “No, you didn’t, you demanded I tell you something.”
Rip was used to being the alpha, he was used to women dropping at his knees and pleading with him just to fuck them. I couldn’t blame them really. He was hot, he was arrogant, and even though I was trying not to look, I could see the outline of what I knew was a very big, very hard cock that I knew for a fact was hidden inside his jeans.
“You’re right, I did,” he replied with a cocky smile. “Are you gonna answer?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
This was the Rip I knew. He was a smartass, and he knew how to push my buttons. And I knew he was up to something.
“No.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
DAKOTA
My body was a little achy, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the reason why. Every step pulled at a different muscle, but I didn’t even care. I managed to slip out of Ripley’s bedroom and make it down the hallway to the room I used when I stayed at the clubhouse.
I figured it was Meyah who had forced the boys to make sure I had my own room, but it still made me feel like I kind of belonged there. Like it could possibly be home.
I slipped inside, thinking I’d managed to get away with it.
Turned out, I wasn’t that lucky.
“It’ll never work.”
My heart skipped, and my entire body jumped at the intrusion. I froze and took a deep breath before I leaned back out the door to see Lauren leaning against the wall just a couple of doors down. She pushed off it and walked toward me. I pushed my shoulders back, forcing myself to stand a little straighter as she placed herself directly in front of me. Her eyes looked me up and down with obvious disdain.
I just sighed and smiled. “If you think you’re going to intimidate me with a look, honey, you better go back to the drawing board. Excuse me.” I stepped back, placing my hand on the door ready to push it shut. Before I could, the bitch pressed her palm against it and stuck her foot inside.
I gritted my teeth. “Fine, you got something to say, go ahead and say it because I have shit to do… like, have a nap.”
It annoyed me that Lauren looked like she’d just stepped out of some kind of modeling shoot. Her hair was sitting perfectly, not a strand out of place, her brunette waves flowing superbly over her shoulder. Her jeans looked like they’d been pasted and molded to her body, and her black T-shirt was cute as hell with its rips and tears that screamed rock and roll.
The reason it all annoyed me was because it was just after 5:00 a.m. in the morning, and no one should look that fucking perfect at this hour. Yet, she looked like she was ready to hit the town or fly to Milan for fucking fashion week. And here I was, standing in the doorway in my brother’s raggy old college football jersey and my hair in one of those messy buns that make some girls look sexy as hell, but made me look like I lived on the streets.
Who the hell was this girl?
Did she not sleep?
How long does it take her to get her hair to look that fucking amazing?
“It’ll never work.”
I snorted, already over this conversation and ready to go and take a very long, scorching hot shower. “You said that already. I’m gonna need to hear some new information before I slam this door on your hand and break every single one of your fingers.”
That threat was very real. I had to consider right now whether this was one of those times where it was easier to ask for forgiveness than it was permission.
What surprised me though, was the fact that she started to laugh, and it made me even more furious because it was melodic and pretty, matching the rest of her.
“You know, I grew up in the club. There’s a way that things work there. Obviously, no one let you know, so here is your fair warning and the only one that you’ll get. Stay the hell away from Ripley.”
I raised my eyebrow. Part of me wanted to just tell her where I’d been and what I’d been doing, but was pretty sure she already knew. I could see the fight in her face, but her eyes were misty and tired.
The thing was, if she’d come at me a few days ago with this speech, I probably would have laughed and laughed until she’d been so annoyed she walked away. But instead, shit had changed—dramatically. And now, the idea of Rip and me being something more than what we were, didn’t seem so damn funny.
I cleared my throat and smiled as I shook my head. “Ripley’s a big boy. Old enough to make his own choices. Stupid enough to hang out with whoever he might like to hang out with.”
“And the last few days, that’s been you.”
I frowned as I realized the only way she would have known that is if she knew we were spending the nights together. We were basically avoiding each other like the plague during the day, both of us still not sure whether we should tell Meyah.
“You seem like a smart girl, Lauren. You’re beautiful, you’re intelligent, you have attitude.” I could tell by the look on her face she was extremely surprised by my comments. “Why the hell are you around here chasing after a guy like Rip, who’s made it quite clear that in his mind, women are to be fucked and not wifed?” I was surprised at how much it twisted my gut to say those words, maybe because part me hoped they weren’t true. But at this stage, this was the only way I could figure out how to get through to her, to appeal to the fact that Rip was kind of an asshole, and she didn’t deserve that.
She smiled, it wasn’t cold, but it didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy. “Like I said, there’s a way things work with the Exiled. Everyone plays their part, everyone has a job and a place,” she explained. After the way Meyah explained the history of club daughters marrying officers and bloodlines and all that bullshit, I’d become more curious about this life they have.
People don’t u
nderstand just how the laws work within an MC.
They make their own, they abide by them. And what happened if someone broke one? Well, an outsider would never know because that’s something that isn’t shared outside club walls.
“I’ve known my part within the club since I was little,” Lauren continued, her demeanor seeming much more casual. To her, the way she was talking wasn’t strange, it didn’t seem weird because it was how she’d been brought up. “It’s no different to Ripley knowing that one day he’ll take over as president of the club. That’s his part and his place, and he’s known that since he was a kid, and Drake passed it up.”
I hated to admit it, but that actually made some kind of sense to me. Everyone’s families have traditions, they have things in their family which are passed down, whether it be a name or an object or a ring.
The club just does things a little differently.
“I know what it takes to be an Old Lady,” she explained, her hand on her hip. “I know what these guys need, what kind of woman they need behind them. I know what kind of woman Ripley needs behind him, and that’s the part I was always going to play, ever since we were kids.”
It honestly sounded like a script. Like it was something she’d had drummed into her. Like it was something she’d been forced to repeat so many times it just came out robotic.
“Lucky for you then because the idea of ever standing behind a man, does not appeal to me whatsoever,” I told her with a smile as I propped my shoulder against the door frame. “That isn’t the part I want to play, and if you think that I, for some reason, am here to take that from you, you’re seriously mistaken.”
She sighed and shook her head. “See this is the problem with people coming from outside the club and trying to be with club members, you have no idea. You think it makes us weak and unequal to want to stand behind our men and support them. You think it’s not right for us to know what our future holds. But you’re so freaking wrong.”
