by Anne Malcom
“You two acted like you hadn’t even shared a latte let alone a bed,” she mused in amazement.
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, sipping on my drink.
She rounded the bar with her own glass, sitting beside me. “I know you’re shy honey, that you’re quiet. But why did you feel the need to keep this secret? There’s too much of that around here,” she added with a sad glint on her pretty face.
I considered her words a moment. “I had to forget,” I told her quietly, my eyes downcast. “If I talked, shared it, I wouldn’t be able to breathe, be able to do what I needed to do for Mom.” My blurry eyes met hers. “I needed to breathe,” I whispered.
Her eyes twinkled, and she nodded in understanding. “You’re a pretty amazing person, Lily,” she informed me.
I glanced at her in disbelief. This woman, who’d survived a kidnapping, a shooting and losing her brother without losing the ability to laugh was telling me I was amazing?
“No, I’m just normal,” I replied.
Her hand found mine and squeezed it hard. “No, honey. You’re the furthest from normal I’ve ever met.” Her eyes found her husband’s. “Not that I’ve got much experience with normal,” she added lightly. Her eyes moved back to me. “You’re special. I’m sure your mom told you that, that Asher will remind you of that. But I just want to know I think that, too.”
I blinked through the tears at the words coming from the women I admired and wanted to emulate in some way.
She seemed to sense I didn’t know what to say because she stood, plastering a grin on her face.
“Right, we’ve got a sitter for the rugrats picking them up at any moment. It’s time to show you how an Old Lady parties,” she winked at me.
“You’re drunk, Lily?” Asher’s voice tickled my ear, and his hands circled around my mid-section.
I turned my head to meet his chocolate eyes. They were blurry. “Yes,” I admitted sheepishly. I knew he didn’t approve of my coping mechanism and I expected him to be angry. To my surprise, he shook his head and smiled. Kissing my forehead.
Rosie, who I’d been chatting to, grinned wide. She elbowed Gwen. “You were right. Hottest couple I’ve ever laid eyes on. Sorry, sis, they might even knock you and Cade out of the park,” she exclaimed, looking between Asher and I and Gwen and her husband, locked in a similar embrace.
I felt my face flame. I’d done my best to fly under the radar tonight. It was hard considering Asher and I seemed to be hot news. Luckily Gwen and Rosie hadn’t left my side. It had helped, but the weight in my chest was still heavy as the night wore on and the clubhouse became more crowded. It wasn’t late, and I was glad for Asher’s arms and the solace they offered.
“Want to go to bed?” he murmured, his voice holding erotic promise that made me squirm. His hand ran up and down my hip.
“Yes,” I said immediately, hungry for him.
He chuckled. “Say your goodbyes,” he ordered softly.
Rosie, who had been watching avidly, waved her hand. “Oh, don’t you worry about trivial things such as goodbyes. You crazy kids go and have some fun.” She winked at me.
I giggled. I liked Rosie. I felt a connection with her. She was easy to talk to, and she didn’t mind I didn’t say much as she did enough talking for the both of us.
I did a little lame wave at Gwen and Cade as Asher began to drag me off. Cade grinned and lifted his chin. Gwen flat out smiled and blew me a kiss. A warm feeling settled in my chest, one that chased away the weight. These people were a family, and they were welcoming me into it like it was nothing. Like I belonged.
“I’ve had a beer too many, babe. I’m not gonna be able to drive us back to your place. I don’t want to risk my precious cargo,” Asher informed me as he led us through the common area into a quieter hallway. One I hadn’t been in for three years. One that held memories, both good and bad.
He opened the door to his room, gently leading me inside.
“You okay, flower?” he asked me with concern when he closed the door.
I knew he was referring to my asthma. My anxiety in situations like this. His eyes had been on me all night when he wasn’t by my side. Worried, protective, alert to swoop in and save me if need be. I didn’t want that right now. I didn’t need to be looked at like I was an unexploded grenade. I wanted to just be looked at. So I crossed the distance between us and fastened my mouth to his.
My boldness paid off as his arms fastened around me, and he returned my fevered kiss with an intensity that told me fire had lurked under his concerned gaze all night.
I pulled my head back, hazy from the kiss. My eyes locked on chocolate irises, dark with desire.
“I want you,” I declared throatily.
His arms tightened around me, one squeezing my ass firmly. “You’ve got me,” he growled.
“I want you,” I repeated. My hand moved to the hard length covered in denim, surprising myself with my boldness. His eyes flared. “I want to taste you,” I continued.
His body stilled and his jaw turned hard. “Taste away, flower,” he said, voice thick with desire.
I grinned and pushed him against the door. He let himself be pushed, eyes never leaving mine. I kissed his throat, my hands massaging him above his jeans as I did so. He hissed out a breath. I moved my hands to the edge of his cut, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. I looked at him through my lashes and trailed my hands down his tee, feeling the hardness of his muscles underneath. I didn’t move my eyes from his as I grasped the bottom of his tee.
“Arms up,” I commanded softly.
Asher’s eyes darkened even more, as he did as I commanded, silently.
My entire body was pulsing with desire, I felt high off the control I already felt I had.
I trailed my hand across his bare abs, running my fingertips across the ridges. I bent and followed my fingers with my mouth, running soft kisses along his stomach. I moved down slowly, taking my time, savoring the moment. When I finally freed him from his jeans, I didn’t hesitate, didn’t worry about whether my inexperience would hinder me, or that Asher would be disappointed, I went in.
“Lily,” he hissed out when I fastened my lips around him. His hands went to my head, raking through my hair and freeing it from its bun.
I didn’t stop, didn’t slow at his movement.
“Fuck,” he muttered as I continued, trailing my tongue along the underside of his length.
The power I felt intensified, my arousal pulsing through my entire body. I itched to touch myself, to give myself relief, but I focused on Asher.
He put gentle pressure on my head. “Babe, you got to stop. Unless you want me in your mouth,” he declared roughly.
I stopped and gazed up at him, relishing the cords pulsing in his neck, the fact I was responsible for this.
“I want to taste you,” I repeated my earlier sentiment.
His eyes blazed as I went back to my job.
“Fuck,” he ground out, his hands raking through my hair.
I felt his entire body tense as his yelled my name and emptied himself into my mouth. I swallowed everything he gave me without hesitation. When he was finished, I slowly pulled back, wiping my mouth. Asher’s hands circled my jaw gently and he gazed down at me in disbelief.
“Fuck, Lily, sometimes I wonder if I dreamed you up,” he muttered.
I grinned.
He lifted me to my feet gently. “Your turn,” he murmured against my mouth.
My stomach dipped as he pushed me against the bed and set to ravaging me for the rest of the night.
“Morning lovebirds,” a familiar voice greeted Asher and I in the kitchen of the clubhouse.
This time I wasn’t the one making breakfast, Asher had seated me firmly at the breakfast bar and was cooking. It was welcome, considering my head felt delicate, and my entire body was delightfully sore after what Asher did to it last night.
I smiled shyly as Lucky sat himself next to me. “Morning,�
� I greeted. I felt slightly self-conscious at the fact I was only clothed in one of Asher’s tees, though it came down to my knees. It was strange that his home was a clubhouse full of other men. Scary men. Hot men like Lucky. Covered in tattoos and sporting beautiful tanned skin and muscles, he was impressive. The fact he was perpetually cheerful when he looked menacing on first glance was comforting. It didn’t mean that ever present weight wasn’t on my chest at being in his presence, being in somewhere like the clubhouse, but I was doing my best to ignore it. To be strong. So I could have more of this with Asher.
“Kitchen bitch, eh?” He nodded to Asher’s back. “Good call, Lily, gotta train ‘em early.” He winked at me.
I giggled. Asher ignored him.
“So,” Lucky continued, reaching to a fruit bowl to grab an apple and take a bite out of it. “Your friend Bex, the stripper. What’s her story?” he asked casually.
“Do not go there, bro, she’ll chew you up and spit you out,” Asher warned, rounding the bar with two plates.
Lucky narrowed his eyes and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. I enjoy a challenge,” he declared.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Asher was right. Bex would chew him up and spit him out. He was friendly, funny and hot. He had the required bad ass status, but wasn’t a low life asshole, Bex’s usual suspect.
“What’s so funny squirt?” Lucky asked, snagging a piece of bacon off my overflowing plate, abandoning his apple.
He got a glare from Asher at this, which he ignored.
“Asher’s right,” I told him. “You’ve got no chance. Take that as a compliment, Bex excels at finding the shadiest and meanest men she can find,” I told him honestly. “You are neither.”
I tucked into my breakfast and I noticed both men turn serious on either side of me.
“Shady?” Asher bit out, his eyes hard.
“Mean?” Lucky repeated, all playfulness gone from his face.
I looked between them. “Down boys. She can take care of herself,” I reassured them.
Neither looked convinced, and I would come to ask whether bikers had some sort of sixth sense when their concern held considerable merit.
Three Weeks Later
I was juggling various grocery bags between my hands, somehow performing the feat of unlocking the door without dropping anything on the ground. I wasn’t used to carrying this much, but with Asher practically living with me, we needed the extra food. Food he insisted on paying for after considerable debate.
“Put that away.” Asher had growled last week while we were at the supermarket together. Growled. Like a dog. Right in front of the checkout clerk.
I scowled at him, and the fact he was pulling out his own wallet. “What are you doing?” I hissed. “Despite killing my buzz?”
Asher handed the clerk a card and gave me a sideways look. “Your buzz?” he queried.
I stepped forward, so it wasn’t visible I was having an argument with my hot boyfriend in the middle of a grocery store.
“Yes, my buzz. The pleasant feeling I had, up until a moment ago, from wandering around the supermarket with my hot boyfriend,” I informed him snippily. “One you just killed by doing the obvious alpha thing and insisting on paying, when I have the ability to do so,” I continued.
The last part was a lie. I barely had the ability to do so. Bills seemed to be piling up, and since I had started back at college, I needed supplies and books that weren’t covered in my scholarship. I should have been working more, but I’d been accepting the lesser hours I’d been offered by a worried Jude in order to spend more time with Asher. This was all beside the point, though.
Asher’s face changed, he pulled me to his body. “I like this,” he told me softly, brushing my hair out of my face, making it impossible to be angry with him. “That my girl gets a kick out of fuckin’ grocery shopping. That your light is shining brightly again,” he murmured against my mouth. “Though I’m not your boyfriend, I’m your Old Man,” he corrected.
I tried to wriggle out of our intimate position. Asher’s hands were a vice.
“Um … Asher, we’re in a grocery store,” I said quietly.
He smiled. “You mentioned.” He didn’t let me go.
“Well, it’s a public place, people can see us,” I told him.
He grinned against my mouth again. “I don’t give a fuck,” he murmured.
Then, right in front of the cashier and shoppers, he kissed the ever loving shit out of me. A gesture that I thought would have had me purple with embarrassment. Instead, when he released me, I didn’t give a fuck either.
It was only when we got back to my place that I realized he’d managed me out of my hissy fit about who paid.
I turned to face him from where he was sitting at the breakfast bar, frowning into his phone.
“You can’t do that,” I declared, my hands on my hips.
He glanced up from my phone, his eyes focusing on my stance. He obviously recognized said stance because he gave me his full attention.
“What? You said I couldn’t help unpack that you had a ‘system.'” He finger quoted with obvious amusement.
I glared at him. “Not that, the groceries, paying for them. You can’t do that again,” I told him firmly.
The amusement disappeared from his face. “I can and I will,” he replied.
I glowered at him.
Before I had time to launch into a monolog about how I was a strong independent woman, Asher kept talking. “I spend all of my free time here, babe. You’re busy. I’m busy. So the time we get to spend together, I relish. Which means my free time is spent under your roof, in your bed, and eating your food. You’re my woman, I take care of you.” He clocked my bulging eyes at this and held up his hand to let him continue, “You’re also running yourself ragged. Studying, workin’ at that bar.” He didn’t hide his distaste for my job. “You’re running on empty, babe. Money is one thing you shouldn’t have to worry about. I work full time. I’ve got it to spare. Plus, it makes me feel good to put it to something worthwhile like feeding my woman. Please just let me fuckin’ do it,” he requested.
I stared at him. I was quiet for a long time. He was used to this, the fact I didn’t reply immediately. His sentiment, his words were beautiful. The fact I’d found someone who wanted to take care of me was beautiful. That this man, who seemed so hard on the outside, turned soft for me. I could get used to it. That was the problem. I’d stopped my partying, stopped running and embracing the uncomfortable. Asher was comfortable. Too comfortable. That was the problem. I couldn’t explain this right now. I didn’t want to. For now, I just wanted to be taken care of.
“Okay,” I relented.
Asher had smiled and rounded the breakfast bar to give me a kiss. One that escalated to him fucking me on the counter.
It might have not been smart of me to throw myself into what Asher offered. To jump straight into a relationship that felt like we’d been together for years. It wasn’t smart because it wasn’t real. The bubble would pop at some point. But I had decided to think of that later.
I was proud of myself. Not just for my measly bicep strength, but of myself in general. It was an unfamiliar feeling. I’d never really felt proud of myself. Comfortable in my own skin. My own life. It was like I hadn’t found a way to fit yet, I was always tugging at the figurative sleeves of my existence, trying to stretch it into shape. After doing something as mundane as grocery shopping after almost a month back at college, I felt it. I had taken the sweater off, was just me. It felt good. The gaping hole in my life was still there, the pain was constant but manageable. I had hope. Asher was a huge part of this, I knew. It both comforted and worried me. Another person I’d build my life around. Another one that would tear it apart when he left.
All of this was running through my mind, plus being mindful of the glass jars in my bags that would break if I surrendered to my screaming arms. So when I walked through the door I was preoccupied. I didn’t see it at first. When I did, the
bags went hurtling to my feet and the smashing of the glass went unnoticed.
Bex was being held up against the wall, by what I recognized was Dylan’s large form. Her lip was bleeding and her cheek red. I didn’t think. The sight of my friend clawing at the hands cutting off her air supply had me acting on instinct. I rushed forward.
“Get off her,” I screamed, yanking at the muscled shoulder attached to the equally muscled arm killing my friend.
His head moved a smidgeon, eyes barely resting on me before he jerked his entire arm, sending me flying toward the coffee table. I hit the corner of it at speed, pain radiating through my skull as the impact jarred my vision and something wet trickled down my head.
“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch,” he spat at me, his hands not loosening. “No woman tells me what to do. No woman breaks it off with me.” His head whipped back to Bex, whose eyes were bulged in panic, her feet kicking out as they dangled off the floor.
I blinked furiously, and tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, blinding pain in my forehead crippled my movement.
“It’s over when I say it’s over,” he spat.
One of Bex’s flailing feet made impact with his crotch, not hard, but enough to make him release her and send her crumpling to the ground.
“It’s so over,” she rasped, glaring at him in hatred, rubbing her neck.
His entire face went red, like an angry bull. “Insolent bitch,” he yelled, kicking her brutally in the stomach.
My body started to obey the moment my eyes bulged out in horror. White hot fury pulsed through my veins at the image of my strong best friend being brutalized before my eyes. Just like my mother had been years ago when I was powerless and small. I would kill him. My eyes rested on Bex’s bag, overturned amongst the chaos. I scrambled over to it with blurry vision.