by Gemma Weir
His fingers reach for me, and he lifts me into the air, kissing me passionately. “Fuck, sugar, letting you out in public in that bikini might be a fucking mistake. You look edible and so fucking gorgeous.” He kisses me again before placing me back on the floor. Gripping my chin, he tips my face up to look at his. “I’m a fucking lucky son of a bitch that you’re mine.”
The heavy weight of his arm rests over my shoulder, and he leads me across the grass towards the water. He winks mischievously then dips down, sweeping his arm under my knees and scooping me into the air. I wrap my arms around his neck, giggling as he spins in a circle.
“You ready to get wet?” he asks.
Before I get a chance to speak, he rushes to the edge of the pool and steps off. We plunge into the cool water. I surge to the surface, coughing and spluttering. “Echo, you arsehole!” I shout as I spin from side to side, searching for him. He’s nowhere to be seen. “Echo,” I shout for him, spotting him beneath the water just as his large hand wraps around my ankle and pulls me under again.
As I break the surface, I open my eyes and look straight into Echo’s. He’s treading water in front of me. His mischievous eyes twinkle, and I laugh at his carefree expression. I launch myself at him, throwing all of my weight on his shoulders and forcing him under the water.
He pops straight back to the surface, and biting my lip, I dive under the water and swim away from him as fast as I can. I hear his deep, gravelly laugh seconds before he grabs my leg and hauls me backwards. “Ah, ah, ah, sugar. I caught you, no escaping now,” he says playfully.
Holding me against his chest, he dips his head to kiss me, his lips briefly touching mine. Then he releases me, splashing me with water. I laugh and chase after him as he swims away. We play in the water for an hour, chasing, splashing, and swimming like kids.
When we finally clamber out of the water, I collapse on the grassy bank, the balmy air quickly starting to dry my skin. Echo lays down next to me, sliding his arm beneath my head and urging me to rest against his chest.
“This place is amazing, Echo. Thank you for bringing me here.”
His fingers run through my wet hair. “You’re welcome, sugar. I haven’t been here in years, but I figured you should see some of Austin’s highlights.”
I roll into him and stroke his chest. “Where did you grow up…, Foster?”
Echo stills beneath me, and I feel his chest rise as he pulls in a deep breath. “Please don’t call me that. I fucking hate it. The only person to call me Foster was my mama, and she always said it with so much fucking disappointment in her voice.”
“Why would she be disappointed?”
Echo pulls me tighter into him, like he needs to feel me as close as possible. “We’re an army family, that’s what we do. I left. She never forgave me. The last time I saw her, she told me I was a disgrace to the family name.”
Outraged, I sit up. “That’s ridiculous! You were in the army, you served your country. She should be proud of your service, not petty about you leaving.”
Echo reaches for my face, his fingertip stroking my cheek. “It’s okay, sugar, her opinion stopped meaning anything to me a long time ago. I’m happy with my life and my choices. I love being a Sinner. The club and my brothers are my life, and now I have you.”
I drop my eyes and try to back away from Echo, but he stops me and lifts my chin to look at him. “I’m never gonna want to give you up. We’ll figure out a way for you to stay. I promise.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before he kisses me. His lips dominate mine, and I melt into him. Echo ends the kiss, and breathless and panting, I open my eyes and stare into his. He touches my kiss-swollen lips with his thumb and smiles. “Come on, I still have some business to take care of before we go home.”
By the time we’re back on the bike, the sun’s started to set, the sky a multicoloured painting, and I suddenly start to appreciate the freedom of this way of life. Wind rushes past us, and life’s happening all around us, yet it feels like we’re floating along in a bubble.
We pull off the main road and head into a small town, stopping outside a dodgy-looking tattoo shop. Echo kills the engine, lifting me off his bike and removing my helmet. “Come on, sugar, I want to introduce you to someone.”
When he pushes open the door, a bell dings and a muffled voice shouts from the back, “I’ll be with you in one minute.”
A red velvet sofa sits under the window, with a large reception desk commanding most of the space. The walls are decorated with framed tattoo designs. Dime-a-dozen butterflies and flowers sit next to incredible works of art so intricate I want to walk across the room to study them. Echo sits, pulling me into his lap and nuzzling his warm lips into my neck.
A tall, skinny guy wanders from the back of the shop, removing a pair of latex gloves. His eyes scan my face indifferently. When he spots Echo, he breaks into a huge grin. “Echo, brother, how the fuck are you?” I’m shocked by his lilting Irish accent.
Echo nudges my leg, and I stand, moving out of his embrace. He strokes my shoulder affectionately as he moves past me and strides over to the guy, embracing him in a tight hug and thumping his back loudly. “Park, long time no see. When did you get back?” Echo says happily.
Park’s tall with bright pink hair styled into a messy mohawk. He’s wearing Converse with tight jeans and a vintage Nirvana T-shirt, and all the skin I can see is covered in tattoos from his ears to the tips of his fingers. His Sinners cut matches Echo’s, but instead of pristine black leather his is distressed and embellished with studs and graffiti-style letters spelling out Park on the front.
“Not long, brother, just a couple of days ago. It’s fucking good to be back,” Park says.
“Livvy, come here, baby, I want you to meet Park. This fucker’s done all of my tats. The bastard is a fucking genius,” Echo says.
I smile and walk forward, offering my hand in greeting. “Hi Park, it’s nice to meet you.”
I have to tip my head back to look at his face, and he seems surprised by my obvious accent. “Well hello, sweetheart, is that an English accent I hear?” Park says.
I giggle. “It is. You don’t sound so Texan yourself.”
Park takes my hand and kisses the back of it with a flourish. “And what’s your name, sweetheart?” he says flirtatiously.
I smile at him. “I’m Olivia, but you can call me Liv. I bet the American girls lap up all that Irish charm, don’t they?”
A cocky smile covers his face. “They love it. But it usually works just as well on English girlies too.”
A loud laugh bursts from me. “I think I’m immune.”
Park smiles indulgently, then leans in and raises his eyebrows in question. “And why’s that?”
“Because she’s mine.” Echo looms behind me ominously, his body inches away from mine. My eyes roll at his caveman behaviour, seconds before his strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me close. Park’s eyes widen in shock, flitting back and forth between me and Echo.
“Park, I want you to meet Livvy, my old lady,” Echo says, his voice a possessive growl.
Park’s jaw drops, his mouth gaping in shock. “Fuck off. You’re joking. You with an old lady?”
Echo nods, smiling broadly. Park’s eyes fall to me again, and his eyes narrow suspiciously. “Well, sweetheart, you must be a special kind of special to have pinned this one down.” His tone’s intentionally insulting, and I open my mouth to respond, but Echo cuts me off.
“Party tonight, brother?”
Park’s attention turns from me to Echo, his concerned expression morphing into an easy smile. “Hell yes. It’s been too long since I’ve had me any club pussy.”
The men chat easily about the club and the other brothers, and I zone out. Warm lips touch my temple, pulling me from my daydream. “Sugar, stay here with Park. I’ve got some business to take care of in the back,” Echo murmurs.
I nod and Echo disappears into the private rooms behind the reception desk. I awkwar
dly fidget with the hem of my dress, and Park glares at me menacingly as the clock ticks loudly in the uncomfortable silence. My eyes scan the room, and then I turn and walk to the sofa, sinking down into it while Park perches on the desk.
Finally breaking the silence, Park clears his throat. “So, er, what brought you to the US?”
Relieved, I blurt, “Okay, small talk, I can totally do this. I’m travelling, spending six months seeing as much of my American bucket list as I can.”
Nodding thoughtfully, he smiles knowingly. “And when do you go home?”
I blow out a sigh and force a small smile onto my lips. “Ahhhh, so that’s what this is about. I’ve got eleven weeks left.”
Park jumps up to sit fully on the shop counter, his long legs dangling over the edge. “In the club, him calling you his old lady is like him calling you his wife, you know that right?”
The air leaves my lungs on a shocked exhale. “Wow wife. I knew it meant I was his, but he never mentioned wife,” I say, panicked.
Park glares at me expectantly and says, “Does he know you’re leaving?”
I smile sadly. “Yeah, he knows, but he’s not exactly taking any notice.”
His accusing stare melts into a sympathetic one. “He’s not gonna let you go. You know that, don’t you, girlie?”
Sighing, I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. He’s not going to have a choice. My flight’s booked.”
Park’s eyes widen and a mocking chuckle rumbles from him. “Oh fuck,” he says. I raise my eyebrows, and nod in agreement.
The tattoo shop’s one of the club’s legitimate businesses, but it’s also a front for the weed grow we have in the basement. We’ve been having some complaints that the manicured product has been low in weight, and it’s my job to find out who in the hell is fucking with the club. The idiots that work for us have no idea that I’ve got cameras hidden all over the shop and basement to keep an eye on what goes on. Pulling my laptop from my desk, I watch as some stoner fucking punk, barely out of school, blatantly steals from the Sinners. Stupid fucker’s got no clue what he just did, but me and Sleaze can enjoy teaching him some respect later.
Weed isn’t legal in Texas yet, so this is one of those times where the club plays on the wrong side of the law. Park’s an artist; he’s fucking brilliant with a tattoo gun, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do my ink. The guy’s got a client list a mile long and plenty more clambering to get his work on them. But he’s also a hell of a gardener, and the club produces and sells the best weed this side of Colorado.
I’ve known Park since I joined the club, and I love him like a brother. He just turned up one day and never left; we prospected together and have been close ever since.
When I walk back into the front of the shop, the tense atmosphere hits me in the face. My girl and my brother both plaster fake smiles on their faces when they see me, but it’s obvious that something’s going on. I should probably confront them about it, but I just want to get my woman home. I can find out what’s got them so quiet later.
Park’s watched me fuck so much pussy in the last few years that it’s not a surprise me finding an old lady would come as a shock. I want him and Livvy to get along, but I couldn’t really give a fuck if they don’t. She’s mine and Park’s like blood, so they’ll accept each other sooner or later.
Livvy has woken something in me, and it’s not just about having somewhere to stick my dick anymore. I want her, in this fucked-up primeval way. I want to consume her. I want her in my house and in my bed.
She’s mine, and I intend to keep her. My girl was more than a fuck the moment I saw her in that tiny white dress; I just had no idea that she’d end up becoming my home.
We say goodbye and I rush away, desperate to leave Park’s stifling presence. His voice repeats in my head. “Does he know you’re leaving?” Guilt pours through me; I know I’m leaving and Echo knows I’m leaving, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it. Rushing across the road, I wait by the bike while Echo says goodbye. Park’s voice starts again. “He’s not gonna let you go.” Tears pool in my eyes, threatening to fall, and I pull in a shaky breath.
I don’t want to leave.
I close my eyes as a tear spills and runs down my cheek. Quickly wiping it away with the back of my hand, I whisper a prayer to God or anyone else who might be out there. “Please let me find a way to stay with him. I want to stay.”
As we ride home, I wrap myself tightly around Echo. We coast straight through town and out towards the edge of Archer’s Creek. Beautiful cottage-style homes, painted in creams and whites, line the streets. The area screams opulence and money, the American dream of perfect white-picket-fence living.
Echo pulls into a house at the very end of the road. The wood panelling’s painted pale blue, and a covered porch seems to wrap around the whole building. A separate garage is set back from the house with dense trees fringing the garden on two sides.
The house is beautiful, large but not intimidating. He turns off the bike and we sit and silently look at the home in front of us. Slowly climbing off, Echo holds out his hand to help me.
“This is your home?” I ask. He nods, uncertainty lining his face. I turn back and look up at the house, taking in the white shutters on the windows and the swinging chair hanging from the porch.
“It’s beautiful, Echo. Why would you live at the club when you could be here?” I whisper. His lips crash into mine, kissing me long and deep till I’m wide-eyed and breathless. Swinging me into his arms, he quickly unlocks the front door and carries me through, placing me on my feet just inside the hall.
The house is bright and airy and practically empty. Beautiful hardwood floors flow from the front door straight to a gorgeous sweeping staircase. “Do you want the tour?” he asks. I nod, and grasping my hand, Echo pulls me down the hall and into the lounge room. A huge TV and two armchairs sit in the middle of the otherwise empty room. Light pours in through large windows and warms the barren space.
I wander away from Echo and stand for a moment just looking at the view of his beautiful, peaceful gardens. I can feel him watching me, uncertainty pouring from my normally bossy, overbearing man. He observes me quietly before crooking a finger at me. “Come here, sugar, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Echo tows me from room to room, each one empty, unlived in, and void of life. The modern kitchen is brand new, all of the appliances still covered in the protective packaging and unused. I drag my hand across the granite worktops and caress the cool smooth surface.
I turn to look at Echo for a moment then cross the room to the huge American-style fridge sitting in the corner. Intrigued, I pull open the doors to look at the contents. “Beer and bottled water. That’s it?” I ask. Echo shrugs then reaches around me to shut the door. “You’ve really never lived here, have you?”
I’ve never seen Echo look nervous before, but I can see it on him now. He avoids my gaze when he says, “I tried once, but it was just too quiet.”
“You’ve never thought about having one of your women move in?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
He scoffs lightly and smiles cockily. “I’ve had lots of women, sugar. But you don’t ask women you fuck to move in with you.”
“You’re fucking me.”
Ignoring me, he shakes his head and guides me out of the kitchen and onto a gorgeous covered patio that looks over a lavish pool. “So what do you think?”
Echo’s voice pulls me from my daydream of living here, of lounging by his pool or cooking in his kitchen. “It’s a beautiful house, Echo. I just don’t understand why you’d choose to live in one room at the club when you could be here instead.”
He smiles and reaches out to tuck an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. “Because it was missing something.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s missing furniture, but that’s an easy fix. You have IKEA over here, don’t you?”
Pulling me into his arms, he kisses me. His to
uch is a mix of consuming and dominating, but sweet and loving as well. “Sugar, it’s not missing chairs. It’s missing you.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. Frozen to the spot, I can’t move, and warm fingers collar my throat gently.
“Nothing to say, Livvy?” I shake my head, and he chuckles quietly, taking my hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Echo walks us through three large, airy, and empty bedrooms, all with gorgeous attached bathrooms. He pauses outside a door before I’m swept into his arms and carried into the room. His bedroom’s stunning, with floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the room with light. His bed’s raised on a platform with steps that lead to the dark wooden bed frame and crisp white bedding. Doors step out onto a balcony that overlooks the gardens below.
Echo moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Move in with me,” his raspy voice says into my ear.
I don’t respond. Instead, I stare through the glass at the peace outside.
“Move in with me, Livvy.” His voice takes on a demanding tone; he’s not asking anymore, and I waver, so tempted to agree.
“I can’t,” I sigh. Defeated, I close my eyes, my head dropping forward.
Silence engulfs us, and crossing my arms over my chest, I hug them round myself. His growl shatters the quiet, anger and frustration peppering the air. I hear his footsteps. then I’m airborne and weightless, till my back hits his soft bedding with a thud. My eyes pop open. Echo’s above me, dominance sparkling in his eyes.
“Echo, you can’t sex a yes out of me. I can’t move in when we both know my time is limited. It’s too cruel to both of us. We should be taking a step back, not a massive one forward.”
“No,” he snarls. My mouth forms a reply, but he cuts me off. “If you didn’t have to leave, would you say yes?”
