I had wandered home in the dim morning light, luckily unseen by any neighbors. Because of the sheer amount of thoughts racing through my brain, once I was safely in my house I couldn’t sleep. So I cleaned. Did laundry. And cooked my daughter breakfast. Something that was obviously an oddity, thanks to the reaction it got. But I needed to keep busy. Otherwise I would think about what I had just done. Gone back to the bed of a broody, dangerous, menacing man who had treated me like a leper for weeks, then a whore, then with confusing tenderness. I would also think about how I had waltzed over there and hopped back into bed with him after barely giving him a verbal lashing for the way he treated me. Then there was the small fact he was in a motorcycle club. Now I wasn’t one to judge. I had been a single teenage mom. I had my fair share of judgment in my life so I knew how crappy it felt. Therefore, I considered myself pretty open-minded. From what I could see, his “club” was full of scary, seriously hot nice guys. But it wasn’t just me I had to think about.
I eyed the girl who was turning into a woman, munching on gluten free toast and organic eggs. The girl that was my entire world. I would protect her with my last breath. Do anything to keep her safe and happy. And I wasn’t sure having connections with the Sons of Templar would accomplish that.
Bull pulled up to the clubhouse, and for once it didn’t give him that feeling of relief. Of purpose. The sight of the clubhouse, the garage and the club’s flag flying in the wind didn’t do their job of keeping the demons at bay. That’s because something had already done that. Not something. Someone.
Mia.
He could still feel the sweet taste of her cunt on his tongue. Feel her nails raking into his back, drawing blood, making his cock pulse. Christ, he could still smell the vanilla, as if she was right there with him, on his fuckin’ bike. He had fucked up. Not only by fucking her in the first place; that was the huge colossal fuck up. Because now he was like an addict who had his first taste. He thought he could withstand her after the first time. But then he heard the fucker Lucky flirting, trying to lay claim on her. She was his. The thought of her with his brother made him grip the handles of his bike as he pulled up.
Then she turned up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. Fucking barefoot. Wearing a scrap of lace barely covered with a flannel. The tiny thing was like a goddamned wet dream with her tousled hair and rosy cheeks. Then she started at him. Yelled at him. He had a fuckin’ gun in his hand, for crissakes, but that didn’t stop her, not his Wildcat. She had pounced.
The moment he opened the door to her his cock hardened. But then, seeing her face redden, watching her throw him sass, it barely stayed in his pants. He had no choice but to claim her mouth. And when she fought him, slapped him, it had taken every ounce of his control to wait while she chewed it over in her mind. He was beyond fuckin’ glad the moment she launched her little body at him. He shuddered to think of what would have happened had she not.
Then he had tasted every inch of her. Fucked her with abandon. With a fury he had never unleashed. She took it. She fuckin’ loved it.
And then he had seen it. In her eyes. He had seen something that threatened his very core. Something he couldn’t describe but something that planted deep. Something that had him, right now, sitting on his bike in front of his clubhouse, feeling the closest thing to satisfied he had been in forever. Which made him fuckin’ furious. He couldn’t have this. Couldn’t have her. But he couldn’t not have her either.
He pushed off his bike and glowered at a prospect who was milling about. “What do you think you’re doing, fucktard?” he snapped. “You want to get a patch, you don’t fuckin’ stand around with your finger up your ass. Make yourself fuckin’ useful!” he bellowed, and the prospect paled.
He didn’t wait to see what he did; he had church.
He saw, once he made it to the room that had become his place of worship, he was the last to arrive. The look on his brothers’ faces communicated that this was a rare occurrence. He ignored this. His glower stayed in place, although he gave a chin lift to Cade.
Cade nodded back. “Brother,” he greeted.