Her body jerks in my arms, but I don’t move. When I open my eyes and meet her gaze, her gasp tells me that I’m doing a shit job at hiding my feelings right now.
“Not a call I like getting, darlin'. Scared me to my core.”
She pushes at my chest with my words and I wait a beat before dropping her slowly to her feet. I don’t move my body away from hers; instead I wrap my arms around her and pull her as close as I can get her with my belt in the way. She struggles, not against my hold, but with where to put her arms. Finally settling with just letting them hang at her sides. I hate that she won’t take some strength from me. Dipping my head, I press my mouth against her neck, smiling when I feel her shudder. I don’t speak, but when I take a deep breath, pushing the air out in a rush, she shivers again in my hold.
“You’ve been avoiding me, Megs. I don’t like it.”
“It’s Megan.”
I laugh softly, “Yeah, baby.”
I don’t speak again, just continue to hold her while she shifts awkwardly. Finally with no other option, her arms come up from hanging limply at her sides and wrap loosely around me. My belt digs into her abdomen and I curse the fucking thing for keeping us apart. We don’t speak and it takes a few seconds before she pushes against my hold, giving her the space she needs to drop her arms back down to her sides.
I take another deep breath and allow her to fully pull away. Her arms instantly shoot up and wrap around herself in a protective stance that makes my relief from just seconds before vanish instantly.
“This ends now,” I state.
“What does?”
“The games, baby. No more avoiding me.”
I bend, pressing my lips against hers, but don’t move to deepen the kiss. When I back away, I move my hand and lightly caress the marks that asshole left against her pale skin. They aren’t going to bruise, but they’re fresh enough that I can still see the impression of his fucking thumb and just that mark alone has me wanting to charge through the club to put a bullet through his skull.
“He touched you.”
“I’m okay, Liam.”
Dipping my head, I move until my eyes are level with hers.
“Not yet, but you will be,” I tell her.
I give her another kiss, this time I linger, letting her feel what I wish I could say without spooking her further. When I pull back, I study her eyes before turning and walking to the door. I give her another glance over my shoulder, her eyes wide and her body soft, no longer holding herself in a protective move. With a wink, I turn the knob and walk through the door.
“MOLLY, BABY?” I CALL DOWN the hall toward her room, sighing when I don’t get a response. “Molly?”
“Yeah!” she screams, running around the corner and crashing into me with a giggle. I wince when her arms reach up and touch the soreness on my arms. Luckily she misses it and with a bounce jumps back to smile up at me.
“What have you been doing in there, baby?” I ask and run my hand through her soft blonde curls.
“Playing,” she says with a smile.
“Playing what?”
“G.I Joes. Mr. Reid told me all the tough guys are Joes. He said so. He wouldn’t play with my Barbie’s, only with the Joes.”
I laugh at the thought of big bad Axel Reid playing with anything close to dolls. “Did he, now?”
“Yup! I gotta go!” She turns and runs back to her room before I can even form another word, let alone ask her if she wants pizza for dinner. It’s our Sunday night ritual to have a pizza and a movie date, but after her sleepover with the Reid’s, I’m sure she’s going to be ready to crash early.
After the night I had last night—the one I still feel with every move I make—I’m just too tired to think about cooking. Dani and Cohen dropped me off in the wee hours this morning after we finished up at the club. I waved off their concern and they left worried, but I needed to be alone. The first thing I did was take the hottest shower that I could stand. Then after a few pain pills, I crashed and the only thoughts that had filtered through my mind were ones of Liam.
I walk back to the kitchen and allow a smile to form when I think about this morning when I went to pick up Molly, despite her whines to stay with Mr. Reid.
I wasn’t the only one that thought it was hilarious that my five-year-old daughter had wrapped him around her small finger. Izzy couldn’t stop laughing. She answered the door with a small giggle and told me to follow her. When I found Molly running a brush through Axel’s hair, I joined Izzy in her laughter. Apparently, my daughter had been giving him a make-over for a good hour before I got there. When he turned, red lips and pink blush were all over his face, and he gave me a wink.
“If you think that’s funny, wait until you see Nate,” Izzy laughed in a hushed whisper.
“Where’s Owen?” I question, looking past my smiling daughter.