Bexley. She’s here, in this building, he thought, following the hallway, feet and legs moving by rote. The memory of her body, soft and rounded. Beautiful. Vulnerable. Dusky rose peaks on her breasts, the way her legs folded into her body, her scent. A treasure he treated with care. Would always handle with care, if entrusted with that precious duty. Something, if he was reading the signs right, that suffered unspeakable abuse, an intruder forcing their way. Fury rose within him, swift and fierce, blood pounding through his veins, in his head, demanding he find who had done that to, “My girl.”
He leaned his forearms against the wall just outside Bulldog’s office, fighting for control of the anger seething in him, that rage feeling like a living thing, writhing just underneath the skin. The door opened abruptly, and he jerked back, staggering against the opposite wall, staring down at the doc. Without acknowledging the struggle Brute knew had to be screaming from his face, Bulldog turned his back, leaving the door standing wide, calling over his shoulder, “Come on in, grab a cup, head to the back.” He stepped behind the receptionist desk, shuffling through papers as Brute hesitated in the doorway. Without looking up, Bulldog told him, “Close it behind ya. No need to let the world in.”
An hour later, Brute stood back in the same place, paused a half step over the threshold listening to Bulldog call to him, “Next week, back here same as we did, right?” Unsure what he actually agreed to, he nodded, taking the next half step to the hallway, shutting the door behind him. Experimentally, he opened his mouth wide, jaw muscles cracking with disuse, feeling the skin on his cheeks and neck wrench and pull, stinging with the movement but not hurting. There was no searing pain as he would usually experience, the ultrasound and massage utilized by Bulldog alleviating his discomfort by no small margin over what it had been before.
The entire elevator ride down to street level, he continued to push and test the boundaries of his new-found reprieve, stopping short of the movements that stretched bound-in rigidity too far but enjoying the breadth of the newly-discovered comfort zone. Encouraged for the first time in the eternity that had seemed his life, he felt the bounce and sway of the elevator car as it reached the floor, leveling with the surface before the doors opened wide. Distracted, he was two strides into the lobby before the gaggle of women standing around registered and by that time escape was impossible, the doors pinging quietly behind him as they cut off retreat.
Gasps came from every side but he heard a ringing “Pappa Ricky,” from ahead, so, he dipped his head to the side and turned towards the one voice he wanted to hear, knowing his Natty was at the end of the sound trail. Chin angled, he kept his face pointed towards the wall, edging the outside circumference of the group, hearing her tentative chatter dipping and waning. She wasn’t sure about the situation or her audience, but like his Natty always did, she was trying hard to push through. “…meet my godfather, Ricky Monte.”
Her feet in view now, he glanced up and froze. How did I not see this as a possibility?
Brute’s beautiful girl, his gorgeous Bexley, stared up at him, gaze fixed on his face.
Bexley
My hero. That was the first thought to crash through her head. From her position in front and slightly to the side, she held his gaze as he rocked to a halt. She was vaguely aware of Natalie’s introduction, hearing his name. But at seeing his face, his eyes, words flew from her head as she waited for a sign from him that he remembered her. That he was real. In the weeks since she’d seen him riding his iron mount down her street, she had nearly convinced herself that the grocery aisle kissing bandit had been as much a mental anomaly as her hallway lurker, neither real in the sense of her world. Her brain’s way of protecting her against the ghosts these counseling sessions stirred.
Why she would imagine a man like hers, she had no idea. A cruel trick of her brain to conjure up one like this, able to command surrender with the slightest pressure of his lips against hers. What possible healing could she give herself by causing even more pain? Was it her own mind actively rejecting her damaged, meager charms?
My hero. Pounding fast, her heart demanded the illusion and her brain acquiesced, even going so far as to feed his scent into her flawed fantasy. Musk and man, just as she remembered.
As from a distance, she heard Ruby talking. They’d connected weeks ago after a particularly trying group session, one in which Bex had admitted to resorting to danger-seeking activities resulting in her being naked in bed. One in which she did not mention her hallway lurker.
Over the course of that single hour, Ruby had determined Bex needed someone in her life. The woman had proven herself a tenacious supporter, committed to dragging Bex kicking and screaming into a friendship. A ballast Bexley could use to keep the dangerous impulses at bay. Not five minutes after the session was over, Ruby was tucking her phone away, Bex’s number safely entered into the contacts, electronic storage of an association unfounded at the time. Since then the connections came, not every day, not even every other day, but regularly. At least twice a week Ruby’s number came up on the screen in a call or a text. Just testing the waters, making sure things were steady, that the flow wasn’t undermining Bex’s resolve. Only twice had she ventured out, both times making it safe to home, no hallway lurker escort needed.
There was a pause in the background noise, a cessation of the conversation and Bex heard Ruby ask, “Brute, you okay, big guy?”
Ricky Monte, Natalie had called him, but Ruby’s Brute seemed a far better fit.
Without looking away from his eyes, she felt his rumbling voice like a caress when he responded, “Yeah, Ruby.” The timbre of his voice changed, adjusting to a lower register, resonating in all the right places when he continued, “I’m good.”
It took a physical effort to move her gaze from his eyes, but she did it, proud of herself until she realized it hadn’t gone far before becoming locked on his mouth instead. Sensuous lips. Lips she knew the shape and feel of, the heat and weight of, lips she wanted the right of entry to again, to confirm something she already knew. Eager admission that it had been the best kiss she’d ever had, it was a rare gift granted to her in a grocery store aisle.
A man of microscopic responses, she saw the upper line of his top lip change slightly, knew it was with pleasure but wasn’t certain what had pleased him. Wanted to know so she could make sure it happened again, and again. Happened in a bigger way so he could be free to give her more, because she just knew that the more would be even better. Rich timbre still in effect, his lips parted, and he said her name, “Bexley.”
Ball’s in my court, she thought, running her tongue across her dust-dry lips, seeing another microscopic change. His lips moved, almost as if he were mirroring her motion inside his closed mouth, lips proving a barrier to the tip of his tongue. Reflexively, she repeated the action and saw the same response. Liking his name, she liked the near-title Ruby bestowed on him better, and so she claimed that in a way she hoped he didn’t miss. “Brute.”
The inrush of breath at his name in her mouth surprised her, then she realized it was another of those microscopic tells she could see because she was so close. She didn’t feel crowded, but he had kept coming towards where she stood with these two women who knew him. Kept moving until he was in her space, looking down, so close she could feel the heat from his body. So when he took a breath, she got to witness it, lips parting on a gasp, the wall of his chest expanding, his chin lifting slightly in a purely physical response.
Natalie spoke, and when she did, their shared moment was past. Brute’s eyes closed in a blink, severing the connection and when his eyes opened again, his gaze was directed beyond her, pointed at Natalie. “Pappa Ricky? I need to head back to the doctor’s office. But…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m with you, Natty girl.” Meant to be reassuring, but his rumble now was different from the last, a line of anger riding the sensation this time and Bex watched as his eyes flared, pupils expanding and then contracting at a memory or secret knowledge.
“Right here, honey.”
“I…” Natalie paused, then pushed through to what she and Ruby had been discussing just before Brute—Brute—walked off the elevator. “I want you there”—this came out in a rush, and the words following tumbled freefall from her lips, nearly running together as she fought to get them out—“but I need to talk to the doctor first. And I want Ruby with me when I do.” Natalie’s voice broke, exposing her fear. “Don’t be mad, please don’t be mad.”
Proving he was plainly perfect, cementing the knowledge that he couldn’t be real because men like him didn’t exist, he immediately responded, “Never mad at you, baby girl. You can’t upset me, honey. I’ll give you what you need. You only gotta tell me like you did just now, and I’ll break my back to give it to you.”
He shifted slightly and Bexley watched as his arms lifted an inch, then two from his sides, presenting a hidden but open invitation she felt her body longing to accept; before she could move to claim something not hers, Natalie was there, and he wrapped her up tightly. So tight she didn’t know how Natalie could continue breathing in air, but it must have been the right amount because the girl said softly, her voice gentle, not wheezing, “Love you, Pappa Ricky.”
“Love you, too, Natty girl.” Bex’d lost sight of his eyes. They were closed now, not squeezed shut with pain, but simply closed, blocking out stimuli so he could focus on the girl in his arms, making sure he gave her what she needed. Protecting. Holding on. Keeping her safe. A sheltered harbor for this girl so ill-used. “Let’s get you back to the doc.” Giving.
Without thought, Bex’s mouth moved, tongue and lips giving voice to words she didn’t expect. “I’ll keep you company until they need you.” That gained her his eyes again, lids flying open, intense whiskey-brown gaze directed her way, caution written there. He wasn’t saying no but was wary of her for some reason. Maybe there were memories of her after all.
Natalie turned in his arms, fingers wrapping around his wrist as she stepped away from him, pulling out of the embrace in a way that looked like she’d been doing this since she was born. “That would be awesome, Bex.”
The rumble moved through her again, and she shivered when he spoke. “Not necessary.” He paused after this rejection, not the first she’d received from him. The pain she felt must have been visible because she got another eye flare and then he continued, voice carrying so much emotion the atmosphere around them became heavy, “But it would be welcome.” He hesitated, then said, another odd intonation rushing through the rendition of her name, “Bex.”
The next hour was a revelation because her Brute was real. Real and seated right beside her on an uncomfortable, plastic-covered couch that would otherwise have caused her to fidget and fuss, but today it didn’t even register. She worked to get more of those responses, finding a thread he found humorous and tugging it gently, pulling and twitching it to milk more from him. They both carefully skirted the fact they knew the other, pretending for a non-existent public that this was their first encounter but knowing through their shared glances that the other thought about the stolen moments as they talked.
The only seeming misstep hers when, laughing quietly at something he said, she leaned close and rested her hand on his arm. Palm to his bicep, the touch so innocent if it hadn’t been for the fact that the heat from his skin against her hand blazed through her, she wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but he froze. At the touch, he locked into place, gaze focused with heated intensity on her face. He let her pull back, let her stammer out the first words of her request for forgiveness, embarrassed that she had broken the ease of their fitting together.
Using one of those microscopic movements, he shook himself, throwing off the moment and interrupting her feeble attempts at an apology by saying, “Liked it.” Words locked in her throat, she waited, and he didn’t disappoint, clarifying, “Liked you touching me, Bex.” Then he blew her mind, approaching the events in their past that she, at least, had been skirting carefully. “Liked your kiss, too. Like everything about you, Bex. Too much, maybe.”
She heard the squeak in her voice when she asked, “Too much?” She caught the eye flare again, his dark eyes warm on her and from the corner of her vision, she saw movement. She looked down to see his hand lifted a half an inch from where it had rested on his thick thigh, raised in her direction, as clear an invitation as his open arms had been to Natalie earlier. She accepted it just as quickly. Threading her hand through the air, she placed it in his, palm to palm, where warmth and heat that had nothing to do with body temperature and everything to do with arousal hit her. He cradled her hand, tugging slightly and lowering their joined grip until they rested on her thigh, the backs of his fingers scorching through her jeans.
His fingers tightened around hers as he answered, “Maybe…” He blinked, then continued, “Maybe just the right amount.”
Brute
What in the fuck am I doing? Brute thought as he sat there on a day that should have been filled with nothing but shit, holding the hand of the woman he had watched for months, spoken with three times, and kissed for a barely-there moment. Her hand willingly placed in his, eagerly even, held on like it mattered to her. The reality of Brute’s girl didn’t disappoint. She was every bit as beautiful as he knew she was, but inside, where he still had bits of uncertainty before today, now existed clarity. The woman he thought her to be, proven beyond the shadow of a doubt.
After Natty had trailed the doctor into her office, head held bravely high, Ruby’s hand in hers, Bexley perched on the edge of the couch’s cushions. She hadn’t said anything, just looked up at him expectantly, and he, not wanting to disappoint because he had seen the aftermath of that emotion on her face earlier, sat beside her. Those ticking moments after her impulsive offer to entertain him, an offer he had been about to decline until resignation flashed across her face, a hollow surety of rejection that tore at him. The joy that followed his acceptance was hard to miss and painted a layer of pleasure across his insides.
I made my girl happy, he thought, accompanying pleasure still echoing in his head while they talked, a give and take as sweet as candy. And just as addicting and something he wanted to hold onto forever. Then it happened. Her talking, him knowing where it was going and he finished one of her comments, their brains so in sync he knew what she’d been about to say, and in response, she’d laughed and touched him.
That touch caught him off guard, an unexpected boon as precious to him as the memory of her willing kiss. People who knew him weren’t cautious with their approach, like Natty and Ruby. They knew he welcomed the chance to connect physically and reached across that chasm frequently. His girl, his Bex, how did she know he needed that? Then for her to take his reaction as dislike or distaste when it was so deeply the other direction, wounded him. So he gave her more, a solace for her jumbled nerves, firm reassurance that she hadn’t crossed a line, that in fact, she had drawn one between them. Words, and she liked those, then his silent offer to extend that line and she had liked that even more. Attaching herself to him in a way that was unmistakable.
The door opened, doctor framed by the inner sanctum, beckoning him with a soft smile. Natty must be good, but this meant an end to their interlude. He turned to Bex and mouth open, prepared to say something. He didn’t know what, but he wanted an offer to extend their time. She beat him to the punch, squeezing his hand tightly before telling him, “I’d like to see you.”
With a nod, he stood, drawing her to her feet. A tug and she stumbled towards him, hand to his chest, chin tilted upwards. Looking into her eyes, he asked, “When?”
A glance over her shoulder and she looked back to him with a tiny frown, not much to see, but it was there. Cautious on Natty’s behalf, she was weighing her wants and Natty’s needs. “I think your schedule is the one we need to worry about.” Confirmation that she wouldn’t tread on someone else for her sole benefit. “I could cook if you wanted to bring Natalie for dinner.” A statement, but the uplifting tone on the end turn
ed it to a question, one written in her insecurities.
Leaning in, he told her, “I’ll call you tonight,” and damn him if she didn’t sweep her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, that action one that had caused his dick to jump in his jeans earlier, having the same effect on him now. “That okay?” Another sweep of her lip and he wanted to taste her mouth, that desire, need, deep inside him, boiling out in a heated flood.
She nodded and leaving her hand in his, reached back with her other. Palming her phone, she worked the buttons ineptly, but patiently, more disposed for this to take another moment longer than she was to release his hand. Eyes to his, she waited expectantly. Not willing to take the chance he’d give her a wrong number, she was ready to cement knowledge immediately. Numbers rolled, her thumb moved, his pocket gave a quiet ding, and she smiled. “Hold you to that,” she murmured, pocketing her phone.
Across the room, a discretely cleared throat brought him back to the need at hand. “I gotta get in there for Natty.” He told her something she already knew, and she smiled as she nodded. “I’ll call you tonight,” he reassured her, and the nods came double time, accenting her eagerness.
Ruby’s voice came from the hallway, breaking the moment. “Bex, honey, I’ll walk you out.” Bexley released his hand as Ruby moved close, snugging an arm around his waist and giving him a sideways hug. “Brute, call me if Natty needs me. Anytime, honey. You call. Regardless, I’ll be over tomorrow morning. I’ll pick her up about eight. Some of the girls want to meet us for coffee.”
Bexley lifted her head, eyes to Ruby as if weighing her words, balancing them against a probable rebuff, which seemed to be her go-to on things. A moment later Ruby had linked arms with her and, chatting, was guiding her up the hallway. The doctor had stepped into the waiting room, indicating the open doorway with one arm, and Brute walked from where he never expected to be, into a place he’d rather not know existed.
A Kiss to Keep You (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 14) Page 6
