“Went to talk to LeeLee after you fell asleep earlier this afternoon. Spent an hour hanging with Stella and Bear. Played cars and shit,” he shrugs as he washes the grease and oil from his hands. I blink in surprise.
“Missed her, too,” he whispers. I close my eyes before bowing my head. “Missed both my girls,” he continues as he wraps his hand around my lower back.
He’s in front of me and I can smell him, smell his scent, his sweat, his oil and grease. I want him. I want him to take me and own me all over again. One day in his presence, and I’m ready to spread my legs for him. I am such a fucking idiot.
“Bates,” I say with a shaky voice.
“Let’s just relax tonight. No talking, no drama, just you and me and Stella. Maybe watch a movie?” he suggests.
I look up at him. He’s grinning and he looks so handsome, so unbelievably handsome. I nod, unable to speak.
“You spend some time with Stella, I’ll make dinner.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head once, effectively shutting me up. I step away from him and look at him for a beat. Neither of us speak, we just take each other in.
I’m soaking in the fact that he’s here, in front of me, offering to make me dinner and take care of me. I can already tell that he’s going to be working hard for me to accept him back. I’m already wavering, already wondering how long I can keep him at arm’s length.
Bates makes Stella and me ribs, corn on the cob, and fries. It feels like a very manly meal—starch, meat and potatoes—but I don’t complain.
It’s sweet.
After the week of no sleep I’ve endured, it’s nice to be taken care of a little bit. We settle in on the sofa, Stella in between us as we watch a cartoon movie. Princess and the Frog, chosen by Stella, of course.
Bates’ arm rests along the backside of the sofa, and I almost moan when I feel his fingers tangle in my hair and gently begin to massage my neck and scalp. He doesn’t tug on the strands; he just massages me.
I try with everything inside of me not to look over at him. I can only hold off for about five minutes, and then I quickly glance over at him. He’s just watching the movie, completely unaware of how turned on he’s making me. Or maybe he knows, but he doesn’t care?
I bite my bottom lip and try to keep from moaning, or sighing, or making any noise at all whatsoever. He spends the entire length of the movie torturing me, and by the small smile tipped on his lips, he knows it, too.
Once the movie is finished, I jump to my feet and announce that it’s time for Stella to go to bed. Bates follows behind us and offers to read her a story before bedtime. I’m surprised, but I let him. I sit on the bed and listen to his sexy gruff voice read about princes and princesses. I close my eyes and just let his voice consume me.
“C’mon, mama,” he murmurs as I feel my body being lifted into the air.
“What…” I exhale, opening my eyes. He’s carrying me toward my bed.
“You passed the fuck out,” he announces as he sets me down on the soft mattress.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” I admit.
“Get some rest, baby. I’ll be on the couch if you need me, yeah?”
I nod and watch him go. He closes the door behind him and I just stare. He didn’t try a thing, not a single thing. Granted, this is only night one, but I expected something. A kiss—something. I don’t understand my disappointment; I should be glad that I didn’t have to fight him off.
I’m a complete disaster.
I huff before I change into my pajamas and open my bedroom door before I slip into bed. I like to have the door open in case Stella wakes up. I want to be able to hear her. I sigh as I curl into a ball and close my eyes.
I want to be able to trust Bates, but I don’t think that will ever happen, and that—that is why we will never work out. I need to trust him and he needs me to trust him.
Without trust, I can’t be in his life, I can’t be by his side. Kentlee trusts Fury one hundred percent. You can see it in just how they look at each other.
I want that, he needs that.
We’re a freaking disaster.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SNIPER
I watch her from afar. She can see me. I’m not hiding, just watching.
Brentlee is working, and I’m waiting until her shift is over to take her home.
It’s been a week since I came back to her. Apologized to her. Started sleeping on the couch every night.
A week since I’ve had hard liquor.
It’s been hands down the best week of my life.
I didn’t think I could have a week with no sex be the best. But it has been. I’ve been spending every waking moment with my girls, in one way or another, and I couldn’t be happier.
Well, I lie.
Sex would make it just that much better, but I can wait. I want Brentlee sure of me, of us, before we go there again. I shouldn’t have pushed it the first time; it was too soon, for both of us.
“You cool?” Vault asks as he takes the seat next to mine.
“I am. The coolest,” I joke.
“You back in there?” he asks, lifting his chin to Brent. She is serving Buck a shot of tequila and laughing at something the dirty old fuck has to say, no doubt.
“No, not yet,” I admit with a shrug.
I don’t need to be back there, though. I’m good. Real fuckin’ good. Slow is something both of us need. I haven’t had a nightmare since my shit’s calmed down, and Brentlee seems better, healthier. She’s put on some weight, and the dark circles are gone from beneath her eyes. She’s never looked more beautiful.
“You will be,” he says. I tear my eyes away from Brentlee to look at him, arching a brow in question.
“You two are like fuckin’ magnets, brother,” he grunts before he slaps my shoulder and walks away. I turn back to Brentlee and our eyes connect. She doesn’t move, except to offer me a shy smile.
Magnets.
Two people that have a powerful attraction.
We are that.
Magnetic.
I’m drawn to her and she to me.
“Hey, baby,” the sweet voice of Star says. It makes me cringe. I take my eyes off of Brentlee to face her. I don’t say a word.
“Haven’t seen you much lately,” she says, taking Vault’s vacated seat.
“What do you want?” I bark, annoyed with her.
“I’m here for you. Anything you need, I’m yours,” she says, pushing her tits together and leaning forward to give me a view—a view I don’t fucking want.
“I don’t want anything of yours, Star. Don’t you fuckin’ get that?” I ask.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you. It doesn’t seem like Brentlee is really all that into you anymore,” she shrugs. Her eyes shift up to where Brentlee is, proving she’s calculated, as if I didn’t already know.
“Wouldn’t matter if Brent didn’t want me. I don’t want you. Never did,” I grunt as I stand.
“I know the score, Sniper. Brand me and I’ll make sure you’re always happy, no matter who your cock slides into,” she pleads.
“Thought you didn’t want me?” I ask arching a brow.
She shrugs, not giving me a verbal answer.
It’s pathetic, needy, and just plain sad. She’s searching for somebody, for something, but it ain’t me. I’ve found my somebody. Brentlee.
“Doesn’t matter what you offer me, Star. I don’t fuckin’ want it. Got everything I want right there behind that bar,” I state. She opens her mouth, but I don’t give her a chance to spew any shit.
Instead, I turn toward Brentlee and see red at the sight in front of me.
She’s leaned over the bar, her tits on full view for Dirty Johnny as she says something to him with a huge smile on her face. He reaches over the bar and touches her shoulder.
I charge, without a fucking word, and walk behind the bar, picking her up and throwing her over my shoulder.
Fuck. This. Shit.
“Bates,” she cries as her hands grab onto my belt.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grind out before I slap her ass. Then, because I can’t help myself, I grab a handful of her perfect ass.
I open my truck door and throw her ass inside. I grin when she bounces in her seat. Then, I slam the door closed and run over to the driver side. I start the truck and speed out of the parking lot. She’s saying some shit to me, but I’m completely tuning her out.
I’m just happy she’s talking.
Even if it is screaming. She’s been like a scared pussycat the past week, afraid to say or do anything. Then she openly flirts with my brother, my friend, and a guy she’s fucked before.
Hell.To.The.Fucking.No.
I drive out to the country, nowhere near my house, just a big open field I’ve gone to to think before in the past. I put the truck in park and stare out the windshield into the darkness ahead of us.
I know there’s a pond out there somewhere, but I can’t remember how far. There are also trees and rocks and all kinds of shit.
“What the hell?” Brentlee screeches.
“You let him touch you,” I simply say, not looking anywhere but straight ahead.
BRENTLEE
“You let him touch you.”
His words ring throughout the quiet pick-up cab and I look at him in surprise.
“Bates,” I murmur.
I’m afraid to say anything else. I don’t know what to say. Star was talking to him, and I got jealous as hell. I started flirting with Johnny. He told me I was playing with fire; he knew what I was doing immediately, but I didn’t care.
“I’m fine with not being able to touch you right now, Brentlee. But that doesn’t mean I can stand to watch another man anywhere near you,” he grumbles.
“You were talking to Star,” I begin. His hand flies up and wraps around the back of my neck, startling me. I stare at him in shock and surprise.
“I didn’t let that whore touch me. I wouldn’t. Not now, not ever again,” he says.
I search for the lie in his eyes, except I don’t find it. Truth. His eyes are swirling with nothing but the absolute truth.
“I…”
“You need time to trust me, that’s cool, baby. I get that. You don’t get time to get off with another dick. You’re still mine,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine.
“It was innocent,” I whisper.
“Bullshit. You were showin’ him your tits and flirting with him,” he barks. I back up, but don’t get far as his hand is still on the back of my neck.
“Fuck you. You had your dick shoved down Star’s throat. You don’t get to tell me anything,” I snarl. He grimaces.
I lift my arms to hit him, but his other hand wraps around my wrists and he pushes me down onto the seat. His hips between my legs.
“I love you, my tigritsa,” he whispers as he gently pushes his hardened, jean clad cock against my panties.
“I’m so fucking mad at you, Bates,” I cry as tears begin to leak from my eyes and down into my hair.
“I know, baby,” he murmurs before his lips crash against mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
I fight him for about two seconds, maybe three. Then I shamelessly moan and roll my hips up to meet his rough jeans.
“Forgive me for fucking up, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my jaw and neck.
I want to forgive him, but I can’t. A week of being a good boy doesn’t take away the way he treated me. I can’t forgive him, not yet, if ever.
“I can’t,” I truthfully admit. I feel his whole body sag on top of me before he sits up and rights himself.
“How can I make you?” he asks. It almost makes me laugh.
He was the exact same way when we were young. Anytime we fought, he’d try and force me into telling him how to fix it. Some things never change about people.
“I don’t think it’s anything I can just do. It’s going to take time. It’s only been a week,” I say. Bates takes my hand and wraps his warm, strong fingers around it, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“Time,” he nods. “I’ll give you as much time as I can, but please, for my sanity, don’t fuckin’ flirt with other men.”
“Okay,” I agree with a nod.
Wordlessly, Bates starts the truck and we head back home to his house. We walk inside and relieve Tammy. I thank her for staying with Stella, and for being wonderful in general. Once she’s gone, I check on Stella and then walk toward my bedroom.
I turn around and look at Bates.
He’s standing in the middle of the living room, looking hopelessly lost, and so damn sexy it makes me ache. I want to just invite him into my room, tell him it means nothing, lie to him and to myself. I want to, but I don’t.
I turn away from him and close the door before I do something stupid. Something that would clearly ruin what we’re trying to build—what we’re both desperately trying to fix.
The next thing I know, there is screaming coming from the living room. It’s animalistic and guttural and so fucking scary, my heart practically leaps out of my chest.
I don’t think.
I do.
I jump out of bed and run to the living room. Bates is on his knees on the couch, his pillow wrapped in his arms, his eyes wide as he looks at it, screaming with tears running down his face.
I take a deep breath to calm my shaky nerves and I slowly walk toward him. I don’t want to startle him. I start to call his name, hoping it will wake him from his dream. I call his name louder and louder.
I’m afraid to touch him, so when I’m right in front of him, I dip down to get in his view and say his name sharply, with purpose.
His eyes flick to me and he inhales suddenly, but he doesn’t see me. I don’t know what he sees, but it isn’t me. His eyes are wild and his movements jerky.
He stands and scoops me into his arms, holding me close and tight as he stomps loudly to the bedroom. I’m thankful that Stella is a hard sleeper. This, right here, would terrify her.
The bedroom door closes and he locks it before he throws me onto the bed. His heavy weight shortly follows, and I gasp for air. He grunts in return. I feel his hand slide beneath the cotton shorts I’m wearing, and then two fingers roughly enter me.
I cry out in pain and tears soon follow. I watch as he wakes. His eyes slowly focus and he looks down at me, horror replacing the wild before he quickly leaps from me.
“I… fuck,” he growls.
“Bates,” I say, sitting up and reaching for him. He shrugs me off and heads for the door.
“I won’t stay here anymore. I’ll go back to the club,” he murmurs, leaving the room before I can speak.
I sit quietly for a moment, then I hear his bike start. I quickly scramble to my feet and run to the front door. By the time I get there, he’s gone. I close my eyes and I cry. Not because he’s abandoned me; he hasn’t, not really.
He’s going to protect me, that much I know. But I don’t want him to. I want to help him. I want to hold him when he’s had a nightmare, a flashback. I want to comfort him however he needs it, just like I want him to do for me.
I just want him.
All this push and pull, this internal struggle. It isn’t because I don’t want him, not in the slightest. I do want him, that’s part of the problem. I want him so baldy, I never want him to leave me again.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and decide I need to get my shit together. He’s fucked up. I’ve fucked up. Doesn’t matter how or when, we’ve both fucked up over the years. But if we don’t let that shit go, we’ll never get back to each other and we’ll forever be unhappy.
I don’t want to be unhappy.
I want to fight and makeup and love.
I want to love him and he love me and show it however we desire.
I want it all.
The good, the bad, and the assuredly downright filthy and ugly.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SNIPER
It fucking aches to st
ay away, but I have to. If I don’t, I could hurt her. When I slept next to Brentlee, with her in my arms, my nightmares were almost nonexistent.
I hadn’t slept that good in years.
I didn’t even realize I was sleeping so well next to her until I started sleeping on the couch. I was sober, and the nightmares, they came in full force. I almost raped her. I would have, too, had her crying not woken me.
“Gotta head up to the border, you game for a few days?” Torch asks as he walks into the room. I’m sitting at a table drinking a bottle of water, thinking.
“Yeah, I need a few days,” I grumble.
“Brentlee still giving you hell?” he asks.
“No, I had a nightmare,” I explain. I don’t have to go into detail with Torch. He knows and he understands.
“Let’s roll,” he grunts.
We ride together, to the border and then over to Canada. I think about the brothers we lost when Fury was in prison, the families that were destroyed by the skinheads and the Bastards.
It was the saddest sight I had ever seen. It made me question the life, question my position. I would die if something happened to Brent or Stella because of my involvement with the club.
“What’re we doin’ here?” I finally ask once we’ve pulled through the clubhouse gates and start to get off of our bikes.
“Just doin’ an accounting check and popping in,” he shrugs.
“Who ordered it?” I ask. I’ve been checked out lately, so I don’t know what the hell is going on with the clubs, apparently.
“MadDog,” he says. Fury’s dad, and the President of the original charter. This club must be in some deep shit.
“Hey guys, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Blow, the clubs President, hollers as we walk up to the building.
“Just out for a ride and thought we’d stop by and pay a visit to our brethren,” Torch smirks.
“Well, come on in—fresh beer, weed, and pussy for you guys,” he says with a chuckle. I watch his eyes as they shift from side to side. He looks cagey, uneasy, and that in turn puts me on alert.
Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet Page 50
