I dug my fingers into his slippery side, trying to pull him forward. His large bulk stayed wedged to the ground.
His green eyes darkened. “See, Mo. My old lady can be pretty controlling when she wants to be.” He threw me a pissed off look, but beneath it I detected thanks. Thanks for giving him an out where he didn’t look weak, only indulging a fickle woman who suddenly wanted to go.
That’s fine with me.
As long as I could get him home, feed him painkillers, and watch him sleep, I didn’t care if he made me seem like the worst controlling woman in the Club. “Exactly. What I want, I get.”
I smiled coolly at Mo. “It was lovely spending the evening with you guys, but it really is past my bedtime.”
Letting my arm untwine from around Arthur’s back, I captured his hand instead. The large palm squeezed mine. “Come on.”
“See ya tomorrow, Mo.” Arthur grabbed his cut from the armrest of the chair we’d abandoned and made our way slowly around the fire.
Mo dashed in front of us. “Fuck you’re both so stubborn. Least you can do is stand there.” Pointing a finger in my face, he ordered, “Don’t move.” Tossing his drink onto the grass, he jogged to the Clubhouse and disappeared inside.
“What the hell was that about?”
Arthur’s face glistened in the fire. “No idea. Whatever it is, I’m not waiting here like a trained fucking poodle. I want to leave. We’re leaving.”
All thoughts of having him the moment we were away from the crowd disappeared in favor of getting him into bed and healing. Arthur followed my train of thought. “I’m well enough to fuck you tonight, Buttercup. Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily.”
Untangling my hand from his, I crossed my arms. “You know what the doctor said. No sex or strenuous exercise until you’re better.”
“We had sex before. Therefore, I am better.”
I snorted. “No, you’re not.”
Anger painted his face. “I don’t have time to be sick. I have a shitload of stuff to do—once it’s done, then I can focus on taking a few days off.”
I rolled my eyes. He needed a good punch to realize how stupid he was. “If you die on me, I’ll curse you forever.”
He chuckled. “You already died on me, so I guess fair’s fair, right?” He meant it as a joke, but it was the worst, most tasteless punch line I’d ever heard.
It killed me.
I gasped. “Seriously?” My voice turned to a thread. “Did you seriously just say that?”
Instantly, his anger and temper disappeared. He jerked me close. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I squirmed in his arms, trying to get away. But he held me tight. “Look at me, Buttercup.”
I refused, staring at the ground instead.
How could he even jest about something like that?
“I’m an asshole.” His fingers trembled around my hips. “Forgive me, please. I can’t do this without you.”
I looked up. His nostrils flared, his eyes wide and full of turmoil.
I didn’t have time to accept his apology. His lips planted on mine and his tongue tore into my mouth—almost as if he wanted to steal the past few seconds and replace them with something so much better.
I tensed in his arms. But then … I opened for him—how could I not? Despite my hurt, I kissed him back.
As our tongues met, our bodies relaxed and forgiveness webbed around us. My heart fluttered with affection and frustration.
By the time Arthur pulled away, my bruised feelings dismissed and only the rawest form of love remained.
Arthur’s eyes darted over my head, a frown furrowing his forehead. “Where the fuck did everyone go?”
I looked around. Uh, that’s strange.
The garden, where multiple couples had been making out, whispering, and staring entranced into the fire, was empty. The evening was late, but no one had made moves to leave before now.
Movement by the door caught my eye. “There.” I pointed to the Clubhouse as Grasshopper appeared, a large grin splitting his face, something hidden behind his back.
“What the hell are they up to?” Arthur tilted his head, never taking his eyes off the procession of bikers and their women as they emptied out from the Clubhouse, coming to ring around us.
“Whatever you’re up to, quit it,” Arthur growled.
Grasshopper and Mo joined us in the center of the ring created by Pure Corruption. My muscles vibrated. I couldn’t understand what was going on. Was this a mutiny? A double cross?
You only think that because you’ve lived through an uprising. Not all Clubs go against authority—especially the Club Arthur has created.
Crossing his arms, Arthur stood to his full height. “I’m not into séances or whatever shit this is.” His voice bordered on aggression and amusement.
“Calm your fucking tits, Kill. Let us do this.” Mo grinned.
The Club traded their fussy, foggy drunkenness and sobered with secrecy. Everyone beamed, conspiring as one entity to deliver earth-shattering news.