by Tijan
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t that.
I glanced over. “Huh?”
“You’re in this because of me, because of the crew.”
It was that.
I couldn’t talk. I was too surprised.
He rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m crew, and that’ll never change. And you’re in danger because you’re the woman I love. I’m sorry. I am.” He looked over now. “But that’ll never change either. I’ll never love someone like I love you. Don’t ask me to try.”
Channing had hurt me. He’d loved me. He’d made me laugh. He’d made me swoon. He’d been cocky, smirking, careless, reckless, and stupid. Beyond stupid. He was good and bad, and I’d had a front-row seat for the whole show. I’d also been an integral part of so many of those times—when he pushed me away, when I turned him away, all of it.
“You formed the crew system to stand up against the Broudous,” I reminded him. “You did it for me.”
He shook his head. “I did it because Brett and Budd were too strong. They were bullying everyone except my group. I did it for me too. Your friend was just the catalyst. That’s all.”
“Still.” I leaned forward, mirroring his posture. “That’s ancient history. You didn’t know the life the crew system would take on. Thick and thin, right?” I wasn’t really talking to him. “Being in a crew is like marriage.”
Channing laughed. “Being in a crew is like those marriages that last through everything and don’t fall apart.”
“Not the flimsy ones who get divorced after one scandal.” I wrinkled my nose, but I was smiling.
His grin matched mine. “Exactly.”
“We don’t have problems because you’re in a crew,” I admitted. “I mean…” I imagined a jail cell slamming shut, the sound of an ambulance, that gunshot from inside the warehouse. That could’ve been Channing on the ground.
I would’ve rained hell on whoever was responsible.
I don’t know what took my mom away. She left. It didn’t matter, but a retired RV caravan took my pop to Florida. My oldest brother was married, working a nine-to-five job with two little ones and probably a normal marriage that had its struggles. But Brandon was still with me, and my other family was sitting right next to me.
I had friends. I had good friends, one I even called my best friend, but they weren’t Roussou. There was no one like Roussou except those who came from Roussou.
“I love you,” I told him.
I said it because he was my best friend, my lover, my soulmate, and even sitting on a picnic table, I wouldn’t have been anywhere but by his side.
“I love you too.” There was a gruffness to his voice.
I turned to stare out over the hills surrounding his warehouse, but I knew he was blinking back tears. Hell. I felt them too, but I also felt her.
“You think she’d be standing by now?” I asked.
“Oh, fuck yeah.” A soft laugh from him. “She’d be starting to walk, maybe even be running.”
“You think?”
“Yes. She’s a Monroe and a Jax together. She’d be tearing ass through this warehouse, streaking, showing her naked booty to everyone.”
I laughed, and once I started, I could see her. Chubby legs, chubby arms, chubby cheeks. Peals of laughter. So blond she’d probably have white hair, maybe curly. She’d be running toward her daddy, no doubt.
“She’d already be kicking ass.”
I couldn’t stop laughing, and crying. Goddamn.
I blinked, trying to stop the tears, but he was right. Naly would’ve kicked ass, and I knew a couple more things just then.
It didn’t hurt to talk about her anymore. And I wanted another baby. Fiercely.
Channing was waiting. He likely already knew what was going on inside me, and I only had to catch his eye before he stood and grabbed me—an arm under my legs and another around my back—and threw me over his shoulder.
“Oomph!”
He smacked my ass, softly. “Quiet, woman. You and I need some alone time.” His hand began rubbing in circles, becoming a caress, and I closed my eyes.
I savored that touch.
He ducked around some people in the garage and deposited me in his truck. I sat up as he shut the door and watched him dart around.
“We’re leaving leaving for this?”
He flashed me a grin, starting the engine. “I want complete privacy where no one can find us.”
Channing paused at the gate. “Going out for a bit. I’ll keep my phone on me.”
Moose was standing watch. He frowned, but looked me over and sighed. “Fine.” He hit the switch, and the gate rolled open.
Channing held up two fingers in a small salute and drove through.
31
Heather
Channing was taking me to the springs.
I recognized where we were going about halfway there, and I couldn’t explain what went through me. It was our spot. When we pulled onto the small road that led to our section of the river, I could only stare at him.
He had the window down, and the wind was moving through his hair. He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other between us, palm up and his thumb turned toward me.
I felt an upsurge of love that was different than the others. It was love from knowing the person all your life, yet still feeling that “newness,” that giddy emotion, that excitement pooling in the bottom of my stomach. It was all of those loves, and it was fierce, and protective, and there was a twinge of regret.
I regretted letting him walk away before. I regretted pushing him away. I regretted not talking about Naly, not wanting to hear him talk about Naly. But mostly, I regretted every word I’d said to hurt him, because that was my fault. It wasn’t his. He had his faults—don’t get me wrong. He’d cheated on me, and that was a big deal. It took a year before that wall had come back down, and that was another of the times we never talked about.
But his mistake didn’t outshine Naly. I wouldn’t let it take away the love I felt for him now.
Hope.
Something new was happening. Something new was coming.
I’d made the first move by accepting the crew, but he’d met me every step of the way.
I placed my hand in his and closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of his fingers over mine. It was one tight grip, and when I opened my eyes again, he was watching me. The truck had stalled. He’d stopped it in the middle of the gravel road.
“What’s this?” he asked, his eyebrows dipping down.
I shook my head. I didn’t want him to feel that way. Not now.
Moving over, I straddled him, and he adjusted. He made room for me.
Our lips met and grazed over each other, teasing, tasting, loving.
He groaned in my ear, and I felt it all the way to my pussy. His arms went around me, but he put the truck in gear and drove a little bit farther, then turned off. We were at the springs. I knew every bump in the road, every tree in the ditch, every rock that we passed, and I was turning back into that seventh grader I’d been when we first kissed.
He turned the engine off, his mouth finding mine.
He growled, lifting his hips to grind against me.
He was already hard, but he was usually hard for me.
“Please.” I panted, throwing my head back.
His lips moved down my throat, down my chest. He nuzzled my shirt over and found my nipple. His tongue swirled, teasing it. His teeth grazed it, and I gasped, arching my back. He clamped down again, sucking, his tongue still caressing me.
He growled again and shoved the door open.
Sliding out, he held me firmly to him. As soon as we were clear of the door, my legs wrapped around his waist. He locked the truck, shoving his keys into his pocket, and carried me down the steep embankment to the water.
Resting me on my feet, he slid to his knees, unbuckling my jean shorts.
I gasped, my eyes closed and my head back. I raked my fingers through his hair, and I felt
his mouth on my stomach, then lower.
He knew where to taste me, to lick, to kiss, to savor me.
“Channing,” I groaned.
He knew every caress like the back of his hand.
His mouth lingered over my clit, his mouth sucking on me, and I almost came. His hands found my legs, nudging them apart to give him room, and then his tongue slid inside.
I grasped his head, and I held on.
My knees were buckling.
His tongue kept thrusting inside, again and again and again, and I was almost blind. I didn’t know how much more I could handle.
As if knowing my feelings, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire and lust. He gave me the widest grin before he said, “Undress, woman.”
I laughed, feeling half drunk, and did just that.
I pulled my top off and my breasts perked up, feeling the air against them. His hand slid up my stomach to grab one of them. I panted as I adjusted, readying myself with a hand to his shoulder, and kicked the rest of my clothes free—sandals, shorts, panties. I was buck naked in front of him now, and he stood, his hands falling to his jeans.
I yanked his shirt off, needing the feel of his shoulders, chest, arms, stomach. I had to touch them, glide my hands over him, caress him in return. As I was lost doing that, he kicked off his shoes and jeans, and then I felt his cock. It was hard, resting flat against his stomach, and my hand found it like it was my anchor.
He sucked in his breath, leaning over me, his hands going down my back and curving around my ass.
“Goddamn, Heather.” He rasped out my name, his mouth closing over my shoulder. Once he hoisted me up, his lips found my nipple. He closed in on my breast at the same time I sank down on his cock.
He slid inside, but he didn’t start moving.
He carried me into the spring, and laying me back against the rock, he gripped my thigh. Then he started moving, bent over me, kissing my breast, my throat, my neck, and going back to my breast as he kept moving inside.
I clenched his shoulders, rolling my hips with him. I wanted to ride him, and when I pushed at his shoulder to move that way, he only laughed and found my lips.
“Not a chance. I get to fuck you hard. I get to fuck you strong. And hot damn, woman, I get to fuck you because you’re my woman.” His hand flexed on my hip. “Now let me do my job.”
I laughed, my head resting on the rock. His lips moved down my throat, and he kept going. My legs twined around him. We were both moving in perfect accord, and then he cried out. He fell on top of me, his body plastered over me, and he gripped my ass, pounding me harder.
We moved together.
We rode each other.
I never wanted to stop. I never wanted the real world to come back to us, but as he pushed me over the edge, my body started trembling, and he thrust one last time for himself. We both exploded.
I ran a hand down his back, feeling him shudder from my touch.
“I want to do better,” I murmured.
He tensed, propping up on an elbow beside me. “What do you mean?” His hand fell to my breast, holding me there, warming me.
“I can’t walk away from you.” I shook my head, rolling it back and forth against the rock. “It’s just not possible right now. If I had to…” God. I didn’t even want to think about that. “I don’t know if I’d survive anymore. We’ve had too many breakups. Too many fuck-ups.”
He nodded, his mouth curving down. “I know.”
I caught his face in my hands. He had started to gaze down at my breasts, but I made him look at me.
“Let’s grow the fuck up,” I told him. “Let’s be adults.”
“Okay.” He nodded, grinning at me.
I groaned, seeing his eyes darkening. I began to unwind my legs from around his waist.
“Oh whoa, whoa, whoa.” He grabbed my hips, holding me still. “What are you doing? Let’s not be hasty here.”
I laughed again, locking my ankles around his back. He slipped out of me, but he was still down there. This was what we did while we waited for the next round. We talked. We kissed. We rubbed. We laughed. We teased each other. He’d pinch me. I’d swat at his shoulder, and in as little as twenty minutes, he’d harden again.
When that happened, we’d stare at each other. All the laughs, jokes, and whatever we’d been talking about would fall away, and we’d grow serious as he took my hip in one hand, moved back, and then moved into me.
Today was no different, except he lay on top of me a little longer than usual. We talked a little longer. We laughed a little harder, and when he paused to slide inside, I swear there was more oomph than usual.
We were cementing this change for us.
Today was the first day of a new us, and my God, as Channing moved inside of me, I vowed it’d be the last change. When I felt the need, I shoved him over and settled back down on top.
It was my turn now.
32
Heather
“Oh! Oh! Ooooooooh!”
After our initial encounter, Channing had taken me farther into the springs. We’d originally been just off the road. His truck had blocked us, but if someone had walked over and looked down from the cliff, there we would’ve been. Farther in meant more privacy.
We were walking back to the truck when we paused, hearing a breathy woman cry out.
“Ooooooh. Yeah! OMG, Matthew!”
A roar came next, and I jumped back from the shock of it.
Channing caught me and started laughing.
“It’s not funny.” I glared up at him as my tank strap fell down one shoulder. He caught it and put it back before taking my elbow and guiding me ahead.
“I’m not sure how to react to hearing her actually spell out OMG and not just say the phrase,” I told him.
“OOOOH HELL YES, my lover!”
Channing kept laughing, his head down almost to my shoulder.
I glared at him. “What’s going on with you? Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I started forward, but he kept me in place, still laughing. He pulled me closer and whispered into my ear, “That’s Congo.”
Congo…
I was a dumbass.
“Oh my God.”
He snorted. “OMG, you mean.”
“OMG.”
One of the only people to refer to Congo by the name his momma gave him—Matthew Shephardson—was his stalker, or my brother’s stalker, or whoever’s stalker she was now. It was get-off-his-dick, drunk-with-Gus-at-Manny’s Rebecca.
“Come on.” Channing’s voice dropped low and he moved ahead, grabbing my hand. We weaved around some more springs, coming closer to their voices.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” She was almost chanting now.
There was a large boulder ahead with trees to both sides, but I could see the water leading out from behind the rock, and we could hear them just ahead.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to sneak up on them.
I mean, this was Congo and Rebecca. She dressed… Well, who was I to judge? I liked tight clothes too, but she spoke like she was an etiquette snob. Who said “classless vixen” or “courted”? Rebecca was an odd mix. I’d just go with that, but Congo too?
The guy could have a gun nearby, and he could grab it in reflex.
Who was scarier? Him or Stalker?
Fuck.
Didn’t matter. Channing had knelt down, and he started to crawl between the rock and one of the trees. He was checking to make sure there were no snakes or other animals, and then he motioned for me to join him.
Yeah. I didn’t think so.
I wasn’t stupid.
I crawled on top of him. I wasn’t going to risk squashing a scorpion.
So there we were, Channing peeking around the base of the rock and me on top of him with my boobs pressing down on the back of his head. We could see Congo and Rebecca on the other side.
I thought he’d be on top of her, and both of them in the water so we couldn’t really see a
nything.
Not the picture we got. Not at all.
She was on all fours, her legs spread and turned toward us. Her breasts were almost grazing the ground and her head was back, eyes closed and mouth open as he held a good handful of her hair in one hand. Fully mounted behind her, Congo had one knee on the ground and the other up and almost over her hip. His other hand clenched her ass, and his head was up and back too. Veins were popping out of his neck.
Whatever we’d heard before had only been the beginning. They were still fucking.
Seeing that, I felt bad. This was wrong. It was an invasion of privacy.
Channing didn’t feel the same. As I began to slither back off of him, he dug into his pockets and pulled out his phone. He took a photo as he was stepping backward, and then all hell broke loose.
I heard the warning rattle and felt a sudden lurch. I saw the snake from the corner of my eye as Channing yelled and tackled me to the ground. He rolled me away and was up almost as quickly as we’d fallen. There was a commotion, and I jumped to my feet as Congo and Rebecca ran from around the other side of the boulder, still naked except for a gun in Congo’s hand.
Channing grabbed the end of the tail and threw the snake away from us, but it wasn’t far enough. The rattler was pissed and coming back.
“Shoot the fucker!” he yelled at Congo.
“I’m trying!” Congo had the gun raised, but it was pointed at Channing, who was in the way. Cursing, he lowered it and stepped aside. “The thing keeps moving.”
Channing wasn’t wasting time. He snatched the gun out of Congo’s hand, aimed, and shot. He got it in the head. The snake went limp.
“Oh.” Rebecca made a pitying sound. “Why’d you have to shoot it?”
Everyone twisted around to her. Channing’s eyebrows shot up. “Because it was trying to attack us, and I didn’t bring a gun.”
Her mouth curved down as she folded her arms over her breasts. “This was probably its home, and you broke into it. I’d attack too.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Why are you guys here?”