We Belong: MC Romance (Rattler Romance Book 1)

by Evie Bennet

  “Reedsy…”

  He hoisted my knees up with his forearms, spreading them apart so I was open and on display, my clit vulnerable and consistently exposed. The next thrust hit it like a bullseye.

  “Ah! Yes!”

  Reed’s cock moved patiently and passionately, seeking every spot that would make me dizzy with desire. Now that we were entangled so deeply, he really did want to know everything. We would learn everything about one another, even in the infinite mystery of who we were becoming. I could be good with him. Every other thrust, his pubic bone slapped against my clit, the burst of senses making me tighten around him. It was everything I’d ever wanted from sex.

  The water in his eyes receded, darkening with lust and fascination. I let out a moan, my own lashes wet with need. His gaze flickered worriedly from my body to my face, still learning, still checking that I was okay. I loved him even more for it.

  “Stay with me.”

  “Stay with me.”

  I got to marry him.

  With that dreamy, fuzzy thought, I tightened, our bodies shuddering together. Our grinding got messy, erratic. He cursed and blessed me with love, sending his warmth slick and searching inside of me.

  In the aftermath, I pulled him close, kissing his sated face. He was so quiet, so wonderful.

  “That was beautiful,” I assured him, kissing his lips with extra reverence, wistful that not so long ago I’d been tending to a cut there with cotton instead of my teeth.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More than okay.” I smiled, sweaty, sticky, and in love. Like he was. I delicately rearranged his thick, rebellious hair. “Are you?”

  “I’m so happy. I’ve never…”

  Been in love? Had sex like that? Been as happy as this?

  Regardless, his eyes traveled down, searching for the words. He would find them. Until then, I kissed him, letting the slickness between our legs drip onto the vanity while basking in our afterglow.

  I hummed, tracing my fingers and lips along his body in the sweetness of our rest.

  11

  Plan B

  “I can’t believe I didn’t have a ring.” Reed sighed, tracing circles on my back that felt more real to me than any metal. I’d have to wait until tomorrow to see if any of the love bites lingered.

  “The proposal was spontaneous and romantic.” I wriggled up into the nook of his neck.

  “Yeah, but in the bathroom? After you’d just—”

  “Hey.” That time I chose to be the one to tilt his chin towards me until his worried expression melted into something more amenable to the adoration he deserved. “I love you anywhere and everywhere and you love me. We’d just opened up to each other and decided to spend our lives together. I have a shocking amount of romantic, positive memories in that bathroom because of you. A place I go on the daily. So thank you. Thank you,” I repeated, kissing him with playful reverence.

  Begrudgingly, his lips curved into a smile. I felt the tingle of satisfaction run up my spine. He kissed my brow. “Thank you for saying yes.”

  “Thank you for saying yes, too.” At his arched eyebrow, I jostled his ankle with my foot. “To living with me.”

  “Eternally,” he added, only half-teasing.

  Our kisses got slower, more purposeful. Before they could turn into anything else, he gently guided my face back, his eyelashes brushing my cheeks as he smiled at me with quiet wonder.

  It made my heart swell.

  “So you’ll stay?” I confirmed, hair dragging over my shoulders and onto his chest.

  “I’ll stay.” The delicate slope of his chin, the constellation of beauty marks on his face, everything was a blessing. Reed let me bask in it, gently pushing my hair back in a way that made me feel so incredibly loved I could have melted in his arms.

  Eventually, when I started drifting off, Reed shifted, tugging something until it snapped in a careful attempt not to disturb me. Confused, I tilted my face towards his hands.

  It was a string.

  Reed watched me expectantly, holding the thread out like it was a finish line or maybe a coat I was supposed to sink into.

  A memory wriggled just below the surface of the murky sieve in my brain. I struggled to sit up, reaching out with one hand, the left.

  Reed nodded, kissing my shoulder encouragingly and looping the string under my fourth finger.

  Still amazed, I wondered where he got it. Maybe his pajama pants or a frayed edge of the bandana, if the thickness was any indicator. He tied it in a neat bow, kissing the ring and my finger sweetly.

  “You’re bound to me.”

  “And you to me.” His smile pressed against my hair.

  Sometimes I wasn’t even sure if he was real or if we were sprouted from the same earth. Our souls were home. I kissed his chest, right above his heart.

  Showering together was intimate and ridiculous. The pressure of his hands on my sudsy skin made my whole body hum, but being outside of the hot stream of water usually had me shivering within a few seconds, yearning to be held by a warm embrace.

  We warmed each other up with a quick fuck against the tiles before a tender, thorough washing followed by a fluffy drying off. As Reed slipped back into his normal clothes, he awkwardly pushed his bag around. “Since I’m moving in, I figure we should talk about rent and other such arrangements?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, quickly pushing my hair up in a ponytail. “After work. You want to come to the garage or are you going to settle in?”

  “I was kind of hoping I could meet you on your lunch break, but whenever is good for me.”

  Dirty, wonderful fantasies played out in my brain of Reed fucking me in the same office where I tended to his lip. His pants around his ankles. My jumpsuit on the floor. Bare. Perfect. Together.

  Actually, once I thought about it, we hadn’t had anything between us when we had sex and I hadn’t been taking birth control since I left. Mouth slightly ajar, I glanced at the door.

  “What is it?” The edge of concern in his tone made me start, turning back to him.

  “No. Nothing. We didn’t— I’m not on the pill, and…” Reed’s expression went slack. Before panic could blossom into full-blown contagious horror, I forced a smile on my face. “Don’t worry. I can swing by a neighboring town to get Plan B and some condoms on the way home so no one in West Ridge knows more than we need them to.”

  “Betty—”

  “Seriously. Not a big deal.” Leaning forward for a quick kiss on the cheek, I made it my mission to disappear as quickly and positively as possible. “Love you! Text me!”

  Even as I stepped through the door, I was looking at the photos we’d taken snuggled up in bed with my ring in view, his lips pressed to my cheek.

  “Love you too,” he said and I felt it burrow within me.

  The bell rang and my smile brightened when I heard the telltale tinkling of suspenders along with it.

  Reed rather ceremoniously held up two white paper bags.

  “Al’s?” Pulling off my gloves, I wiped my palms on the sides of my overalls to get rid of any leftover sweat. The thread around my finger had a nice roll to it.

  “Yes. And birth control!” He pulled open the bag with an awkward flourish, the false enthusiasm dimming into embarrassed affection. “I thought it shouldn’t have to be on you.”

  The thoughtfulness struck me as sweet. “Of all the times for our song not to be playing.” I sighed, shaking my head in mock disappointment.

  “You could sing it for me,” he suggested rather cheekily, one hip pushed towards me.

  Instead, I stole a peck on the lips. “A bold request.”

  “That’s nothing compared to asking you to marry me.”

  “No, I guess not.” I grinned, happily taking the chicken sandwich he offered me, noting the way his eyes quickly scanned my fingers as if to make sure I was still, in fact, wearing the ring.

  Once we had eaten and washed up, I felt a heady energy between us and eagerly led him to the back r
oom.

  “What’s this? Planning on splitting me open and patching me up again?”

  “Now who’s writing poetry?” I teased, shimmying out of my jumper.

  “Slower.” The lump in his throat bobbed as he tracked my movements. “Reading, actually. But my favorite poet hasn’t written anything lately.”

  “Maybe she’s just waiting for the right time. Or inspiration,” I said and winked, wiggling my hips at him.

  Reed hooked his arms around my waist and pulled me in for a dip. Elated, heart pounding, I grinned up at his expectant, stormy eyes. “This inspirational enough?”

  “I dunno, it’s pretty—”

  He cut me off with a deep, probing kiss, one that would’ve definitely been censored out of old movies for fear of causing fainting spells. When he pulled away, my heart thudded. Teeth sinking into my smile, I batted my lashes at his bemused, slightly ravenous expression.

  “How did that feel?”

  “Very inspiring.”

  Laughing, he led me to the couch and unbuttoned his jeans. Remembering his instructions, I made a show of undressing. Every inch of bared flesh, every wink, every touch, seemed to build to our symphony. I sank onto his lap with the satisfaction of knowing every one of my fantasies was going to come true.

  There weren’t a lot of things for him to move into my place, but Reed managed the transition from the trailer fairly seamlessly. All his pieces meshed well with mine.

  As far as I knew, JR was fine, or at least the same as normal.

  On nights when Reed got swept up in Rattler business, I tended to chat with Emily or work on projects at home. Reed and I had yet to go to Sidewinders together. He said our entrance would be a grand statement and he wanted to plan it so I’d be the most comfortable. We had become a united front. A united everything, really.

  Humming, I laid my head back on the bed, stretching my limbs until my spine practically popped back into place. In the other room, I could hear Reed’s thoughts tapping away with the metallic ring of his typewriter. Bringing the behemoth over had been a feat in itself. He neatly stacked his papers, letting me be the one to gently pull them from their wreaths and blow the ink into permanence before setting them where he wanted them. The focus and dedication he gave his art, that he gave me, was beautiful. He could make everything connect, whether on a screen or with considerate eye contact.

  The gaps between

  Atoms weaving together

  A vertebra of intent

  Fluid and leaning

  Or roots, spreading and curling into soil

  For every nutrient under the sun

  A story requires spaces between words

  Between thoughts

  And your name is always on the tip of my tongue

  My ear perked for any semblance of your sound

  Am I the page, the one you fill with words?

  Or are we endless?

  Fueling the ink the world is written in

  I laughed, pushing the back of my hand to my forehead. Maybe that one was a bit silly.

  “What are you doing over there?” he called from the other room.

  “Nothing. Just poetry.”

  “Can you read it to me?”

  “No. It’s awful.”

  “It’s all awful. I want it anyway.”

  Rolling my eyes, I lay on my side. Lately, he pushed aside my arbitrary assignment of good or bad for my writing. It was mine, he told me. Ours. And it deserved to be cultivated.

  I heard him scrape back his chair and pad into the bedroom to join me, his gaze darkening when he saw me stretched out on the bed. With a superfluous bend, I offered him a coy little smile. It was weird and wonderful to have him home all the time. Well, most of the time.

  “Betty?”

  “Yes?” I preened, trying not to make it obvious that I wanted to put my head in his lap.

  “What do you want to do about a wedding?”

  Sitting up, I tucked a foot under my thigh. “Oh. Um, I’m not sure. What do you want?”

  Elopement, I wondered.

  “We could do it any time. Tomorrow. Next year. What are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know.” Being his wife was…

  “You haven’t thought about it?”

  The slightly accusatory tone rubbed me the wrong way, sending me scooting back against the headboard. “I have and I haven’t.”

  We had forever. We just didn’t have rings. Or a legal status. Or… yeah.

  “I want you, Reed. Abstractly, that involves marriage or some kind of bonding ceremony, but I haven’t really planned anything other than spending the rest of our lives together. I’d be happy just going to Town Hall today if you wanted to.”

  Reed meandered further into the room, sitting at the far edge of the bed. His closest hand reached out, tempering the bedspread. “You haven’t been dreaming about it since you were a little girl?”

  My heart clenched, remembering the tightness of another boy’s hand on my own.

  A good girl did everything her husband said, according to him.

  I couldn’t… live that way, let alone fantasize about it.

  “No. Not like that.”

  The pause before his next question felt like a wind-up before a pitch. “Do you not really want to?”

  Turning my face away, I tried to focus on the emptiness of his tone, the implication that I might have agreed to marriage just to placate him or that I didn’t particularly want to marry him at all.

  I twisted the thread around my finger. “I’m happy the way things are, but I do want to go further. I want us to go forever.”

  “I’m happy too,” he insisted, hand gently on my foot. “But I thought— I wanted—”

  My chest contracted, sucking in on itself. “You thought you wanted to marry me?”

  “I do want to marry you.” The clarity in his eyes was a beacon.

  I was safe with him. It was different. Our marriage would be real, not some twisted fantasy.

  “I want to marry you, too.”

  “Okay then.” He squeezed my foot. “So, what do you want?”

  I opened my mouth, floundering for an answer. “You.” I laughed somewhat apologetically. “I honestly don’t know what else I could ask for. I’m relatively new here, so it’s not like I have a place besides the ones I’ve been to with you. I do know our song.” He smirked, rubbing my insole. “But other than that, it’s up to you, too.”

  “Okay. How about a guest list? Do you want it to be just us two or do you want more?”

  More. What did that even mean anymore?

  The hesitation in his tone made my insides twist on their axis. “I mean, I’d like Milo and Chewy to come, but if you’d rather not have any Rattlers we don’t have to.”

  I still wasn't sure how to answer, so I shrugged and nodded. “They were there when we met. It makes sense that they be there and from what I know of them, I like them. They’re your friends and it’s good to have people in your life who support and care about you.”

  “It’s good we have each other.” Looping his hand around my heel, Reed scooted closer until we were practically on top of each other. “There’s one other person I was hoping might be able to come.”

  JR, I guessed.

  “My sister.”

  My lips parted but no sound came out. I could feel my brows tightening, searching for words, even as he silently waited for my approval.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want his sister there. I did. I wanted him to feel safe and happy and share it with people who loved him. I just didn’t have much of that anymore and it was a complicated feeling. My gut tightened as I came to terms with the fact that I couldn’t call my sister to be my maid of honor, like we’d always assumed as kids. She couldn’t call me, either, not that she cared. It was best that we forgot about each other and pursued our own happiness. At least Reed could have his.

  “Of course. I’d love to meet her.”

  He rubbed my calf, squeezing. “I’d like that too
.”

  My smile might have been weak, but it was sincere. “Invite whomever you want. Whenever you want. Wherever you want, really. I just want to be with you.”

  “Is there anyone, any family or friends you can think of that you would want to be there?”

  I felt embarrassed by the delicate way he broached the subject. Everything before West Ridge seemed like a dream. Not just another life, but another lifetime. A different body. A different family. A different Betty.

  Reed was so much of my emotional tether and maybe that wasn’t fair to him. I had Emily and peripherally, the café-shop lady, Al, and my customers for general socialization. I might have been pseudo-adopted by the Rattlers. But weddings weren’t supposed to be all about one person. It was commemorating a couple’s lives coming together. I needed to inject a dose of myself, something good beyond how I loved Reed. But whom would I even want at our wedding? Who could I call?

  Not my sister Amy. Not my mother, even. If I told any of my former friends, they’d probably talk amongst each other and my former family might find me.

  Frank was the only one who kept my secrets and didn’t demand any of me.

  “There’s an old neighbor,” I said quietly, laying my knees against the mattress and feeling shy under Reed’s curious expression. “He’s the only one I’d probably want to tell, even if we don’t invite him.”

  “Is there any reason not to?” he asked, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. It was a little unfair of him to keep touching me like that, trying to pry things from me. Making me feel safe, exposing my scars in the hopes I’d dig deeper.

  “Don’t.”

  Surprised, he sat back.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

  “We’re about to get married. You can tell me anything.”

  “I know but it’s—it’s not part of the present, so I don’t know why I have to go into it. Why it’s important.”

  Of course it was important. I wanted to know everything about Reed. Naturally, he’d want to know things about me, about who I was.