Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4)

by Anne Malcom

  I knew it would come, though, and it scared me to death. I hadn’t been with anyone since him. Three years of pining. I was like some sad, weak girl who held onto some desperate hope. Only that wasn’t what it was. It was that I didn’t want some boy to ruin that perfect memory of that night, the way Asher touched me, held me. It was the only memory I clung to after nights spent at the hospital. After having to bury my head in books on medicine after I’d watched it fail my mother. Later having to work my ass off, and keep a smile off my face even when I was dying inside. I needed it. I needed the memory of the way he made me feel.

  I knew I couldn’t sleep, even though Aiden’s form kept me company in the small room, I felt more alone than ever.

  I knew where I needed to go.

  It was 3:00 a.m. Who went to cemeteries at 3:00 a.m? I didn’t know. I didn’t find it scary, though, the silence of the dead was comforting to me. I didn’t do well in the company of the living, so I was happy with the solitude the tombstones offered. I shivered in my jacket in the crisp air, the ground crunching beneath my feet until I stopped at a fresh grave. There was no headstone, that would come later. For now, there was only a plain white cross, with daisy chains slung around it.

  “Hey, Mom,” I whispered, sinking down to my knees.

  My hand pressed into the mound of dirt. Then it came. The pins and needles finally disappeared, replaced with by the pain, the utter agony of loss. I sucked in a strangled breath, a vice tightened around my chest. Tears fell onto the dirt where my mother was buried. My sobs wracked through the silent night. I knew the pain would be bad when it got to me, when it caught up. I didn’t realize it would radiate to every part of me, and that I’d drown in it.

  Arms circled around me, engulfing my shaking body.

  I jolted in fear, a momentary bout of terror paralyzing me until a husky voice tickled my ear.

  “It’s me, Flower,” Asher muttered.

  I sagged against him, letting him lift me to my feet and tuck me into his strong body. It didn’t matter we hadn’t spoken in a year, that I hadn’t been pressed against his body in three. It only mattered he was here now, to catch me when I started my free fall into the pit of grief.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you, babe. You can feel now, you can let it go. That mask you’re wearing, you don’t need it with me,” he continued softly.

  And with that, with his words showing he saw straight through me, I lost it. The control, the self-preservation I’d been clinging to. I clutched his cut and sobbed, letting my tears run down the soft leather. He held me tightly against his body, murmuring into my hair, kissing my head, giving me someone. Someone to hold on to. If only for a night.

  He pulled me back slightly, his head nodding down so he could meet my eyes. “Ever been for a ride on a motorcycle, flower?” he joked lightly. It was dark, but I knew there’d be a twinkle in his eye, a reference to the night we first met.

  “Once,” I replied quietly.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “It was one of the greatest feelings in the world,” I whispered back, unable to hide behind a mask of shyness like I usually did. It fell away with him. Everything did.

  His body jolted. “Yeah,” he said, squeezing my hips. “I can think of one thing that feels better,” he added huskily.

  Before my stomach could dip at that statement, he’d clasped my hand and directed us to the curb where his bike was parked. After he handed me a helmet, I hopped on silently, happy for the absence of words. I didn’t need that. I needed to plaster myself against the one body I’d known truly and intimately, the body that made me feel safe. That made me feel whole.

  The ride left my worries, my grief, all of it at the curb. The only thing that existed in that moment was my body pressed against his. I didn’t know how long we rode for. Time didn’t matter. It didn’t exist. Only the road, the freedom it gave, existed in those moments. We pulled up to a shoulder on the lonely highway. It seemed we were the only people left in the world, up on the slight incline, looking at the dim morning light beginning to kiss the desolate landscape.

  The motor of the Harley left us bathing in the special kind of silence only offered by early hours of the morning, before the sun was even awake. We sat like that, me still pressed against him, my head lying on his shoulder, my eyes on the horizon. Without warning, he twisted, standing to lift me and sat back down so I was straddling him.

  My whole body did an internal convulse at this new intimate position. His hands framed my face.

  “This is why?” he asked abruptly.

  I screwed my nose up in confusion. “What is why?”

  His hands seemed to tighten, and the silhouette of his head turned to regard the same horizon I had been focused on. He moved to look back at me, becoming more seeable as the light began to bathe the valley.

  “Your mom, she was sick. Had been for a while I’m guessing,” he clarified.

  A knot formed in my stomach at the mention of her. I only nodded.

  “She’d been battling for three years, am I right?” he continued tightly.

  I nodded again.

  “So that’s why,” he said, his voice both hard and soft. “Why you shut down, why you didn’t let me in,” he surmised.

  I took a deep breath. “I-I ... yes,” I stuttered, unable to figure out how to explain. I’d never felt closer to someone, even though our time together had been short, it had been magical. But with that closeness came distance. When you say goodbye to someone you’d never felt more connected to, you severed something that turned you into strangers. I felt so deeply for him I didn’t know how to approach this.

  “Breaks my heart, babe, you chose to follow that road,” he clipped, his voice hoarse.

  I was silent. What could I say?

  “But I get it,” he said finally. “I’m mad as fuck you thought whatever you thought to take this road alone, but I get it.”

  I chewed my lip, tearing my gaze away from the sunrise that was dancing beautiful colors along the barren landscape. I met chocolate eyes. Something moved behind those eyes. A flicker of understanding that could only come from someone who’d stared into the abyss of grief in which I was currently residing.

  “We were together one night; how can you say things like this?” I mumbled, feeling infinitely scared at the fact that whatever it was between us hadn’t dulled in three years.

  His arms tightened around me and his eyes flared. “It was a fuck of a lot more than one night, flower, you know that. Don’t try and pull that shit on me. You’ve done it for three years, no more,” he declared firmly.

  I sat up a little straighter. “What shit?” I clipped, surprised at the sharpness of my tone.

  His eyes searched my face. “Whatever shit you got brewing in that beautiful head to talk yourself out of this.” His hand snaked up my side, and my breath did a little hiccup.

  His mouth buried itself in my neck. “I haven’t tasted you in three years, flower. I know you need time. Also, know you need it, too. Need us,” he muttered, moving his head.

  I sucked in a breath. I couldn’t argue. Every sensible thought had left the building, and right now the only thing that could salve the burn of my heartbreak was Asher. His touch. The crazy connection we had erasing everything there was ... out there, beyond the horizon in the background.

  “I’m taking that as permission, Flower,” he growled.

  His mouth captured mine in the next second, and I melted into his touch immediately. His arms pressed me to him, and I moaned into his mouth as the thin fabric of my leggings brushed against his hard length. I needed this, more than oxygen. More than anything at this moment. His hand went to my breast, his cool palm snaking up under my tee and tweaking my nipple.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, leaning back. Desire was etched into his face. “I forgot how fuckin’ amazing it is,” he muttered. “Tasting you, having that little body set alight for me and me only.”

  I looked at him thro
ugh my lashes. Arousal had me feeling bold. “I haven’t forgotten,” I whispered. I tightened my hands around his neck and pressed my body against him. Regular Lily had disappeared. This new Lily, the one I didn’t recognize, replaced her. And she was horny. “I haven’t forgotten what you feel like inside me,” I murmured against his neck. His entire body tightened at my words. “I need you to fuck me,” I whispered in his ear.

  Asher grasped my hair roughly, pulling my head back so he could meet my eyes.

  “You can’t say shit like that,” he growled. “Not when I’m hanging on by a fuckin’ thread, trying to be a gentleman, respectin’ the fact you’re grieving,” he said tightly.

  I watched him. “I don’t need a gentleman, I need you, I need us,” I whispered. “You’re better, you make it better,” I continued.

  Asher paused for a split second then his mouth was back on mine. This kiss wasn’t like the last, it was intense, frantic, leading somewhere better. His hands were everywhere, my body responding to his touch like it was born for it. Without warning, I was lifted and set lightly on my feet.

  Asher grasped my neck, his hand bit into my hip. “Sit back, baby,” he ordered, his voice rough.

  I did as he bid, my whole body blazing with electricity, my panties already soaking. I sat up on the bike, leaning back so he could pull down my leggings and panties. I should’ve felt mortified, paralyzed at the fact that I was naked and exposed on the side of the road. I felt none of that. All I felt was need. Frantic, desperate need for Asher.

  His eyes devoured me, looking at me, there. He ran his hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he muttered. “So fuckin’ beautiful. All I want to do is taste that sweet pussy... I’ll do that, later,” he decided, stepping forward and unbuttoning his jeans.

  He grasped my hips and I was up again, straddling him once more, this time sans pants. There was no warning, no build up, he slammed straight into me, right to the hilt. I was ready, primed. I cried out at the magnificent feeling of him inside me. The twinge of pain I felt from his wide length stretching me was nothing next to the pleasure.

  He grasped my neck roughly. “Ride me, baby,” he commanded in a voice thick with desire.

  So I did. With the morning rays kissing our bodies, I rode him. Rode him with abandon, this new Lily letting everything go but the two of us. Asher’s eyes never left mine, and his fingers bit into my ass, one hand clutching my neck so my face brushed his. Our feverish lovemaking was made all the more intense with our gazes locked on each other, his chocolate eyes searing my soul.

  “Come, baby, let go,” he demanded hoarsely.

  On his order, my entire body convulsed and I cried out through my release. The pleasure unleashed was like nothing I’d ever felt in three years. In my whole life. It was almost blinding. Asher’s arms tightened around me as I milked the release out of him. He captured my lips as he pulsed inside me.

  We sat breathing heavily, our noses touching.

  “Fuck, flower,” he murmured against my mouth. “Being inside you, it’s the best feeling on the planet. But you riding me on my bike,” his hands tightened and he shook his head, “launches me right into the stratosphere.” He nuzzled my neck.

  My heart was beating furiously and I vaguely registered his words, my heart leaping at them. At the fact he was inside me once more, his hands were on me. I didn’t get much closer to any form of coherent thought. As he gently lifted me off him and set me on my feet, reality trickled back in at about the same rate as something leaked down my leg.

  Hmm. Sex in the middle of nowhere without a condom, not so glamorous as you’d think, I thought with a certain degree of detachment. I was lucky I was on the pill as I realized our lack of protection.

  Asher snatched what looked like a tee from one of the bags on his bike, gently cleaning me. His head moved so he could stare at me as he did so. My heart skipped a beat at the expression on his face, the tenderness of such an action. My lips stayed pursed. Nymphomaniac Lily was slowly disappearing, the regular, awkward shy and decidedly not nympho Lily was returning. Shame would be well on its way. For now, I bathed in the warm glow of the sunshine, of Asher’s touch, chipping away at my ice cold grief.

  I pulled on my leggings awkwardly when he handed them to me. Once I had myself decent, Asher stepped in front of me, hands at my neck. He searched my face with worry.

  “You okay, flower?” he asked softly after a moment of silence.

  That was a good question.

  “Right now, in this moment, yes,” I told him quietly. “On the whole ... not so much.” The honest statement came out of me automatically. I couldn’t hide with him. It was the first time I’d made any kind of admission I was struggling. That this was real.

  He furrowed his brows. “You need to get home. To bed,” he decided. “My bed,” he clarified.

  Bed.

  Home.

  “Fuck,” I exclaimed loudly, remembering who I had in my bed at my home.

  Asher’s brow rose. “Did you just curse, flower?” he teased.

  I didn’t have time to revel in how attractive his already smoking face was when amused.

  “I need to go home. To my home, like now,” I demanded quickly.

  “Okay, we’ll go there, if that’s what you want,” he agreed, beginning to turn us to his bike.

  I clutched his hand. “Not we … just me,” I told him firmly.

  He frowned slightly. “Not leavin’ you, babe, not again,” he declared roughly.

  “Well, you’re not coming into my house. I’ve got ... um … company,” I mumbled.

  I cringed at how that sounded. It sounded like I was some kind of hussy. Red crept up my cheeks.

  Asher’s face turned blank. “I fuckin’ know that,” he ground out. “That certain visitor will be learning just how unwelcome he is when we get back.”

  I gaped at him. There were a multitude of things wrong with that statement.

  “How do you ‘fuckin’ know that’?” I used air quotes, mimicking his voice with sarcasm I didn’t know I was capable of.

  “I followed you home. Sat outside your place, waiting for fuckface to leave. I was dis-fucking-pleased when he didn’t,” he ground out.

  I only stared at him. “You followed me home,” I repeated quietly.

  “Yep. Not surprised you didn’t notice, state you were in, the fact that Abercrombie didn’t is a testament to what a douche he is,” he clipped.

  I let out a breath. “I do not need this pissing contest right now,” I snapped. “I also don’t have time to educate you on the fact that sitting outside someone’s house all night is firmly in Criminal Minds territory,” I added seriously. “I need to go home, alone and sort out my head.”

  Asher’s face softened a smidgeon. “Fuck, babe, I know that. That you need time. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna like your boyfriend being the one comforting you, not me,” he said fiercely.

  I pointed to the bike. “Pretty sure that wasn’t Aiden just then, that was you,” I informed him, and myself. Mental forehead slap. I was a horrible person. I shelved that bit of self-loathing for later when I wasn’t on the side of a road.

  Asher’s face turned stormy. “I’m not having this shit out here. Get on the bike, babe,” he echoed my internal sentiment.

  I let out a breath of relief and took the helmet he offered me.

  On the ride, the usual feeling of freedom didn’t sink in. Pressed into Asher’s warm and hard back, I realized the magnitude of everything that had just happened. Asher and me. After three years. It was amazing, life shattering, like no time had passed. He seemed to feel something for me. More than I’d thought. Not what I felt for him. The depth of feeling that had settled in my soul after one night wasn’t something he could possibly feel. I was embarrassed I even felt it. It wasn’t just that, I had tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and shame burning in my belly.

  I had a boyfriend.

  A boyfriend who was caring, supportive, and in my bed right now. I’d just let an ex
... whatever Asher was, have sex with me on the back of his bike in broad daylight. Or the beginning of daylight. I hadn’t even let Aiden past second base. I wasn’t exactly a brazen hussy, I knew that considering I’d slept with only one person, but I was a bitch. Aiden was in my bed right now. He had supported me through my nightmare, patient and caring. This and the ever present weight of grief on my chest had my cocktail of emotions turning sour in my stomach.

  Getting off this bike meant going back to reality. Saying goodbye to Asher. Whatever it was between us was not something I could deal with. I could barely breathe after what had just happened. I couldn’t deal with it long term. I had to think of Aiden. But in that moment, I indulged in fantasy, traveled back to the memory that would chase away the complications of the present with the beauty of the past.

  Three Years Ago

  Normally I’m not one to drink into the early hours with a group of bikers and beautiful women, who seemed to radiate everything I wanted to embody. But I did. I may not have spoken much, but my silence didn’t seem to be noticeable, nor did it distance me like it normally would. Maybe because it didn’t stick out much, the scary biker Bull, beating me with his lack of words. I felt a sort of camaraderie in our mutual silence. He was battling demons of his own, much scarier than mine I knew, but it was comforting to know that being trapped in your own head wasn’t something that only happened to weak college girls, big bikers could be brought mute if the demon was big enough.

  To my disappointment, Asher had left midway through our conversation, one I thought had been going well. He had frowned down at a text. His eyes moved to me and he regarded me soberly. As I was far from sober, I didn’t do too well registering what lingered beyond his gaze. His hand had bitten into my hip. I sucked in a breath at the contact, never feeling attraction like I did from his simple touch.

  His eyes darkened at this.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Babe, I’ve gotta go,” he declared.

  I tried to hide my disappointment, though I was afraid that alcohol might work in taking away my shyness, it also hampered me masking my emotions.