“Excuse me?” I snark in response, gripping the tops of my thighs.
“You’re just gonna stop talkin’ to me now? Is that it?”
Duh. Isn’t that implied?
“We have to live together.” I sigh long and hard. “There will obviously be talking. But the rest… you know… It should stop.” For my sake. For his sake, too. The last thing I want to do is lead him on. Not that I think Kade can be led on. He’s much too smart for that.
A rough, irritated noise erupts from his center. “What part of you’re mine, don’t you comprehend? You’re a smart woman…” Kade pauses a beat as if his mind’s playing catch-up with that attractive mouth. “Ohhh… You’re scared. That’s what this is.”
“No.” Yes. We all know it’s a yes. The last thing I’ll ever do is confirm it aloud to him. That gives him too much power. Power I will never relinquish. Self-preservation has its merits.
“That almost-kiss has you runnin’ for the hills.” A statement, not a question.
I’m not running from anything. I’m cautious. Coming to terms with my reality. There’s a difference. Though, I won’t tell him that either. It won’t do me any good.
When I don’t reply, Kade continues undeterred. “You don’t think I’m scared, too?”
Not at all what I thought he’d say. How do I respond to that? I can’t…
Again, I remain quiet… waiting on razors edge, my heart hammering a thousand miles an hour, even if his nieces are stuck in ear plugged limbo.
My eyes squeeze shut as Kade speaks. “I’ve never met anyone like you before, Swan. Do you think it’s easy to care for someone who doesn’t feel the same? That it doesn’t hurt?” There’s rustling as Kade shifts. I picture him covering his heart, rubbing the flesh above it to dull that ache that ruminates there because of me. God, I’m… This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I swallow and wipe my damp palms along the top of my pants to wick away the sweat.
His voice thickens, taking on a broken, tear-my-insides-apart lilt. As if I couldn’t feel any worse than I already do, he finds a way to prove me wrong. “I understand I’m puttin’ my fucked-up soul out there for you, when you don’t even want it. Now… now, you wanna pull this? Push me further away. And for what? What does that accomplish? You pretend you ain’t caught feelings to make yourself feel better? Why? What’s so bad about me? Why am I not good enough?”
You are, Kade. You so are.
That’s the problem.
A pregnant silence descends, leaving four sets of respirations to serenade us. Two slower. One, so labored and harsh it wreaks havoc on the parts of me that can feel… That do feel, for him. That small sliver wants me to tell him everything’s gonna be okay, to comfort him. Even when I know it’s not. I wish I could express how good and perfect he is. That any woman would be blessed to be with a man like him. But that’d be a lie, wouldn’t it? Kade doesn’t fit in the world, just like I don’t fit.
At some point, Kade inhales an audible breath and releases it just as loudly. “You know what. Fine. Keep your distance,” he seethes.
I open my eyes in time to watch the muscled biker climb to his feet and exit without another word. Not wanting his nieces to be blocked any longer, I reach out and tap Roxie’s shoulder. She perks her head up and immediately frowns when she realizes her uncle’s gone. Scarlett, somehow sensing her sister’s movement, pops her head up and mimics Rox’s reaction when she notices Kade’s departure.
“Where’d he go?” Comes from his favorite niece.
I thumb by way of the open door. “He needs a minute.”
“Did you have a fight?” Scarlett asks as she puts away the polish she used on her uncle’s toes.
I shrug. “A misunderstanding.”
Scarlett bobs her blonde head as if she understands when I know she can’t. Nobody can. Not even Kade. Does he think I don’t feel terrible about this decision? Because I do. It’s godawful. But stop and think for just one second about what would happen if I let this persist. In the near future, I will leave and what will that do to him if I let this continue? I can’t stay here. It’s better for everyone involved if I keep my distance, like I should have in the first place. Before I found a wrecked man with haunted eyes charming.
To break the room out of the melancholy that’s somehow suffused the air, I wiggle my toes for Rox to continue. She does. The bad mood doesn’t lift. Scarlett busies herself by painting her own toes while Rox finishes mine—black with a gray glitter top coat. We don’t talk. There’s nothing left to be said. I did what needed to be done, and that’s that. Kade will thank me for it later when he meets the woman of his dreams and falls in love for real. Maybe he’ll get the fancy wedding everyone wants… apart from me. She can give him two kids, a boy and a girl. They’ll have a porch swing they sip coffee on every evening after their children go to sleep. That’s the dream I’ll hold near and dear to my heart for Kade. She’ll understand his shattered bits. Even super-glue them back together in her own way. He deserves the best and everyone knows it’s not me. Maybe in another life. Maybe if we’d been the equivalent of normal.
Resting my hands behind me, palms flat on the hardwood for support, I tilt my head back. Then, I do what I should’ve done last night. I pray. For Kade and his absolution. For peace. Especially for Katrina, who’s sulking in her bedroom, heartsick. I even tack on a section for Big, who’s been struggling with the loss of his only love.
Amen.
Chapter Eleven
Kade
Creeper. Stalker. Addict. Those are the words I’d use to describe the man I’ve become. My black Swan might’ve pushed me away. Might’ve splintered the fucked-up organ in my chest. But I can’t quit her. I tried to. Trust me, I did. Living day in and out under the same roof as her, never leaving except to take my nieces to school, it’s a sweet brand of torture, both on my mind and balls. The poor fellas hate me for what I’ve put them through—the scars I’ve inflicted before bed each night. The cum that’s stained my fingers. The filthy fantasies I play on a reel featuring my favorite pixie. If I wasn’t a glutton for punishment—a masochist through and through, I would’ve already done the right thing and let her be. If that were possible. If my brain worked that way. If I wasn’t already owned.
Standing at the entrance of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, I watch my woman perform dozens of flawless pull-ups from Ryker’s workout bar that attaches to the door frame. Up and down she goes, her bare arms and shoulders glistening with sweat as she grunts through the strain. I grunt too, quietly to myself, as my cock tries to break free of his denim prison.
Too engrossed in the sexy view, the one and only Watermelon Tits sneaks up beside me, holding a basket full of laundry against her pregnant belly.
Twisting enough to keep an eye on her and Rosie, I glance at Kat’s face and the scar I stitched there. Thankfully, it’s beginning to heal. There’s a wad of blonde piled on top of her head and she’s wearing a gooey expression I don’t even wanna ask about. Not that I have to, she’s gonna tell me anyhow. That’s how she works, and I wouldn’t change her for the world. Too bad my brother’s a fucking fuck-head for hangin’ her out to dry. I was hopin’ they could work things out. Maybe. Not that he deserves her forgiveness. After he pulled a goddamn Houdini, he’s lucky I haven’t hunted his ass down to bleed him myself.
Kat’s gaze flicks down to my zipper and a knowing grin pulls at her lips. Then she glances at Rosie and chuckles privately to herself as if a boner in Rosie’s presence is the funniest shit she’s seen all week. Joke’s on her. I’ve been hard nonstop. To add insult to injury, Katrina plucks a washcloth out of the basket and slaps it to my chest. “Wipe up your drool,” she teases.
I heave a dramatic sigh.
Fucking women.
Glowering at my best friend, I take the cloth from her before it falls to the ground and chuck the balled-up cotton back into the basket. “I’m good.”
She arches a humored brow and shakes her head, knocking
that bun-thing askew. “You know, you could just ask her to—”
“To what?” I interrupt, eyes rolling heavenward. “Be my Valentine?”
Katrina shrugs. “I dunno. Something. When you’re not bickering with her or bitching about Ryker, you’re busy mooning.”
What the fuck ever. That’s impossible. I’m a man. Men don’t do that. We may stalk. We may do stupid shit. But we don’t moon.
I snort, not amused with her silly word choice. “I don’t moon.”
Kat rolls those snarky eyes so far back into her skull I’m afraid they’ll get stuck. “You so do,” she comments on a mocking chortle.
“It’s not like that.” I’m watchful. Not moony. Moon is a dumb as fuck word anyhow. Whoever thought that crap up needs a round in the cage with me and my knives. I’ll show him what mooning really is, when I carve one out of his chest and pin it to my wall as a keepsake.
Katrina licks her bottom lip and delivers a droll, unimpressed look, as if I’m the insane one here. “Really? Then why do I feel like I’m living in the middle of a telenovela?”
Where does she come up with this shit?
Meeting her gaze, I cock my head to the side, contemplating. One of these days I’d love to climb inside that brain of hers and go for a swim. Maybe I’d soak up some of that weird knowledge she’s got stored in there. “What the hell is that, telenovela? Another one of your big, smarty librarian words?”
She flicks my pec, close to the nipple. “No, idiot, it’s the Spanish version of a soap opera.”
How was I supposed to know that? It’s not like we have tea and crumpets at the clubhouse as we watch our favorite soaps. Then again… maybe Pops and Ghost might like that… you know, ‘cause they’re tutti-frutti gay men. What? A bad homo joke? Bet they’d find it funny, after Pops punched me in the shoulder.
Shoving my thoughts to the wayside, I give Watermelon Tits a piece of my mind. “We’re not living in a soap opera. I’m a biker. She’s a… badass. They don’t have bikers and badasses in those fuckin’ things.”
“They could.”
Lord help me, a week with four females and this one’s always gotta bust my balls.
“Woman, I told you, those books are startin’ to rot your brain.” To fortify my statement, I double tap her on the side of the noggin.
Kat swats my hand away. “And she’s making you moon.”
“If you wanna talk moon, Katrina Remington.” I growl her name for emphasis. “I’ll pull my pants down right now and show you my bare ass. That’s a real goddamn moon.” Unbuttoning the top of my jeans, I prepare to go full monty if she pushes me any further with this mooning bullcrap. I’ve heard enough.
Watermelon Tits glances at the band of my boxers that peeks out behind the button of my denim and shrugs half-assed. “Meh. Believe what you want, Dickcheese. I’m just callin’ it like I see it.”
“Yeah, with your romance addled brain and rose-colored glasses.” This woman is a romantic through and through. Always devouring those dumb romance novels. Last month it was bikers. This month, I think we’re on to aliens. At least, that’s what I think she’s been trying to talk about. As much as I love the woman, when she starts yakking about blue aliens and their extra appendages, I zone out. It beats bein’ a dick and walking away from whatever titillating fuzzy alien knowledge she feels the need to impart.
Not letting my comment go, Kat throws attitude. “Says the man with an erection as he spies on a woman doing pull-ups. Why don’t you two workout together, anyhow?”
“Really? You think Ms. Get-the-hell-away-from-me would consider doing our dailies in the same space?” Rosie’s fit. I’m fit. We could be fit together. Kat’s right about that. But that would mean she’d have to stand being in the same room with me for more than five minutes. In the mornings, like my brother, I do push-ups, go for a run, and finish with a round of pull-ups. Rosie’s not a runner, but she does workout in her bedroom when the door’s closed. Except the pull-ups. Those, I get to watch every day. And trust me, I ogle and ogle and ogle until I gotta doodle my dingdong in the bathroom.
Katrina’s pale brows and cutesy nose wrinkle in confusion. “I don’t see why not.”
“Have you not met Rosie?” That should be explanation enough. She’s as friendly as a rabid porcupine. But she’s still my porcupine. I’ll take her however I can get her.
My bestie glances over to the porcupine lady in question. “She’s not that bad. She helps me with dinner, and we’ve been watching TV together.”
“Because she likes you,” I clarify.
“She likes you, too.”
“She avoids me.” Unless I force her into spending time with me. Like yesterday, when I locked her in the pantry with me. There were some choice words and a little ab touching when I wouldn’t let her leave. The threat of violence on her part does fuckall to trample my libido. Riling her up is one of my new favorite pastimes. You know when you’re in elementary school and the boys would pull your hair or push you down when they liked you? As ass backwards as that was, their little peckers still picked you to dick around with. My interactions with Rosie are much the same. I torment her for a reaction, ‘cause I like my black Swan, a lot. So does my dick. He loves her. Loves her so much he can’t think of gettin’ hard for another betty. And what a fucking inconvenience that’s been. Can you be pussy whipped when the pussy doesn’t even want you? Apparently so. Ask my junk. He’s got the answers.
Katrina taps her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe she does that because she finds you attractive and she’s working a job. She takes her job seriously.”
“Oh, I know.”
“You do? Which part?” Kat asks.
“Of course, she takes her job seriously. She’s… you know… Rosie.” The hottest bitch alive.
Fuck.
Why can’t we stop talking about her? It’s bad enough my mind’s sprung. Talking makes it worse.
“Yeah. Sure. Right.” Kat juts her chin at my woman, who’s busy pretending we’re not talking about her as she wipes sweat from her face with a hand towel. “Guess I should let you get back to your not-subtle mooning.”
If she don’t quit it with this mooning nonsense, I’m gonna piss on her pie just to spite her. And we all know how much Katrina loves her pie.
To keep her on her toes, I chomp my teeth at my Watermelon Tits like I’m gonna bite her. “I hate you.”
Lifting onto the balls of her feet, Kat pecks my cheek. “Love you, too, bestie,” she singsongs before waddling up the hall, past Rosie, to her bedroom to finish whatever she’s gotta finish.
Still pretending I don’t exist, Rosie removes the pull-up bar from the door frame and enters her bedroom, shutting the door in her wake.
Messaged received, no more ogling my Swan.
Looking down at my bulge I rub it with the heel of my palm. “Go to sleep, you bastard. No wanking for you.”
He flexes as if giving me the middle finger.
Fuck.
It’s gonna be a long day.
Chapter Twelve
Rosie
Exiting the guest bath freshly showered and dressed after a bare bones workout, I run a towel through my damp hair as a knock resounds at the back door.
Hackles rising, I pause in the middle of the hallway, listening. Bear and Ghost texted Kade this morning to say they wouldn’t be over for dinner tonight. Something about club business. Kat’s busy folding laundry in her room, I checked in with her before showering, and the girls are doing whatever girls do in their princess cave… Which means…
The knock sounds again.
Heavy footfalls thunder their way across the hardwood, and I catch a flash of Mr. Hot Biker Boy as he disappears into the mudroom to answer the door. “I’ve got it,” he hollers.
“Okay. I’ll be right out. Don’t forget—” Words perish on my lips as Ryker’s voice breaks through the stagnant air.
Thank God. Ryker’s better than bad men here to kill us. Not that Kade would answer the door if that was
the case. He isn’t that insane.
Discharging a rush of air through my parted lips, I shake out the fresh tension in my shoulders and enter the bedroom to throw my towel and dirty clothes in my makeshift hamper. It’s a pile against the wall. I pretend it has four mesh sides, so I don’t feel like a slob. Buying an actual hamper seems pointless at this juncture in my stay, so I make do, like always.
When I’m through, I stow a small knife in my pocket alongside my cell phone. Then strap another blade around my calf, underneath my pants, before joining Kade and his brother.
Opening the back door, I pause at the threshold to watch a brotherly scene unfold. Kade’s chest bumping Ryker, pushing his weight around, pissed off. I should’ve known this was gonna happen with all the anti-Ryker rhetoric he’s been flinging to whoever will listen.
“Get the fuck outta here,” Kade slams his shoulder into Ryker’s, who takes a staggered step back but doesn’t move to retaliate.
Ryker’s hands rise in surrender, trying to tame the wild beast that is his brother. “I’m here to see Kat,” he speaks calmly, shuffling away from Kade inch by inch to give them space. Smart move. He knows how this’ll play out if he provokes the dark prince. It won’t end well for either of them, and I’ll have to step in to take them both down. Babysitting grown men is not what I signed up for.
“The fuck you are.” Kade kicks stones at his brother, hands fisted down at his sides, knuckles white. If looks could kill, Ryker would be visiting the boatman.
“I need to see her.” Ryker paces, staying on his side of the gravel lot.
“No!” Kade roars in response, throwing a fist in the air.
Losing his patience, Ryker glares, his upper lip curling into a snarl. “She’s not yours, bro. If she wants me gone, she can tell me herself.”
Not afraid of his older brother in the least, Kade picks up a rock from the ground and chucks it at Ryker’s stomach like you’d skip a stone across a pond. It hits with a dull thud before rejoining its identical brethren in the driveway. Ryker pauses his pacing mid-stride and looks down where the offending rock landed. To prove some macho point, he grinds his boot heel there, like that’s gonna fix something.
Wrecked & Reclaimed (Sacred Sinners MC - Texas Chapter Book 5) Page 9
