“I’m sorry if this scares you, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I wanted you to be the mother of my kid. Jesus...I still fuckin’ do.”
My eyes watered with tears as I took in all the words he was professing to me, all the emotions pouring out of his heart and soul and into mine.
“I’m so fuckin’ in love with you...” he added in a soft, gentle, almost painful tone.
Which nearly broke my heart to hear. Tears started to fall down the sides of my face, unable to hold them back any longer. He didn’t think twice about it, he grabbed under my arms and carried me over to him, making me straddle his thighs. Caging me in, holding my cheeks between his hands. Kissing all over my face to wipe my tears away with his lips.
“Please, baby... say somethin’...”
I peered deep into his eyes, resting my forehead on his and spoke with conviction, “I’m yours, Noah. It’s only you.”
He didn’t falter, gripping onto the back of my neck, kissing me.
Devouring me.
Taking his time, savoring my taste as if he never wanted to stop. His lips parted, beckoning mine to follow, and they did. We kissed for what felt like hours, but I knew it was only minutes. He wrapped his arms around my torso, lowering me back until I felt the sand beneath me. Laying his body on top of mine.
He wanted me.
He needed me.
My mind was scrambled with thoughts and emotions I couldn’t control, label, or even begin to understand. It was one giant cluster-fuck of feelings. I tried to ignore them all, but they were as consuming as the feeling of his body on top of mine.
I put my arms around his neck as he pushed me further into the sand, kissing me deeper, harder, and with more determination. Something told me this wasn’t the first time he had kissed me like this. My chest rose and fell faster and faster with every slip of his tongue. With every deep breath I took, with each caress of his fingers along my face, with each groan that escaped his mouth and with each moan that left mine.
I felt his heartbeat pounding against my chest. Mimicking my own. They were beating together in a rapid rhythm, dancing with pleasure, mixed with a little bit of pain.
He kissed me one last time. Letting his lips linger for a few seconds longer before pulling away. I instantly felt the loss of our heated kiss when he set his forehead on mine. Our heavy panting was the only thing that could be heard over the waves crashing into the shore as we laid there in the sand, trying to calm our breathing. He pushed the hair away from my face to stare deep into my eyes. Wanting to stay lost in each other's minds.
His hands framed around my face, kissing me again with the same intensity and passion, but slower, more delicate this time. Less frantic and desperate. We stayed like that for I don’t know how long, just kissing. Completely engulfed in one another.
As much as I loved the feeling of his lips, his body, his heart next to mine. There was something deep inside of me that was still hurt and pained. A dreaded, uncomfortable feeling that repeatedly stabbed me right in my core. I desperately tried to push it away, but it was permanently attached to me. As if my heart didn’t even belong to me anymore.
Because it was owned by someone else.
The time we had been waiting for had finally arrived. This was our one and only chance to raid the clubhouse for the missing disc undetected. It was the annual Fourth of July fair weekend in Oak Island where people from all over came to celebrate and enjoy the biggest display of fireworks in the country. Everyone’s attention would be focused on the event and not what’s going down on the outskirts of town. Our MC and other chapters from all over the state of North Carolina rallied up together and made their presence known at the festival for all to see. It had been a tradition for generations, one I knew my old man fucking loved and wouldn’t fucking pass up.
It had been three months since we had a word with Damien at his underground club in Miami. We still hadn’t figured out jack shit about what we needed to know. The pieces of the puzzle were still scattered everywhere, and Damien’s cryptic information made no fucking sense at all. Other than revealing that Martinez was indeed alive, we had nothing to go on. The only place we hadn’t searched for the disc was the one place I left for last.
The compound.
Only problem was we couldn’t do it with Pops around. Hence the reason we waited fucking over ninety whole days for this one night. We knew the motherfucker hid everything conspicuously in his room. There had to be something there. Anything that could point us in the right direction to find the evidence we needed to put an end to everything.
We hid the truck in the woods about a half a mile up the road from the clubhouse, preferring to tread on foot just in case someone showed back up early. We waited, bunkered down in the woods, out of sight until we saw them ride out toward the fair, all sporting their colors with fucking pride. The Prez knew Diesel was with me most of the time since I was technically still in hiding. I needed backup in case more shit hit the fan. Diesel and I breached the property just after eleven at night. Getting in unseen, dodging the fucking security cameras to get to the control panel. I knew how to fuck with the cameras and security system my father had installed after the shootout.
The cheap bastard didn’t get anything high-tech. It was easy to mess with the setup, so we could be undetected. I went in through the back while Diesel walked in through the front, just in case there were any stragglers or club whores left behind. It would look suspicious if he was sneaking in like I was. The brothers knew I couldn’t step foot on the compound, it would be too careless to put the club in jeopardy if for some reason the cops found out.
“Everyone’s gone,” he announced, nodding to me to come in through the sliders. “We got less than a few hours to find what we need. Don’t wanna push our luck, who the fuck knows how long your old man will stay out at the fair. I guess it depends on how much Jack they have.”
I nodded, grabbing the hidden key for his room before making our way down the hall and up a set of stairs to his private quarters. Hoping Christa, Pop’s whore, wasn’t there since we didn’t see her on the back of his bike. We stopped in front of his door and listened for a second, making sure the coast was clear. It didn’t surprise either one of us that the door was fucking locked.
We spent the next two hours searching hell and high water for any sort of clue. From the walls to the floors, even the goddamn ceiling. Rummaging through drawers, cabinets, and shelves, coming up empty. On the verge of tearing the fucking room apart, trashing it just to find where he hid Martinez’s disc. But we didn’t, wanting it to look like no one had been there.