“I’ve always loved Tinker. Why did you think I was always so boy crazy? I wanted to make him jealous,” she smiles sadly. “My dad’s made it pretty clear he wants us married, and Tinker is all about the club. We’re doing it all next weekend,” she shrugs.
I can tell that there is a hurt in her eyes, something she’s not telling me but it’s also something she doesn’t want to talk about. Riley is usually an open book. If she doesn’t want to talk about something, though, you can’t pry it out of her. No matter how hard you try.
“So when are you going to tell your parents?” she asks, changing the subject.
I shake my head almost violently. “I’m not telling them shit, and you can’t tell anybody. I need to talk to Bailey first.”
“You have six weeks until he comes back, Rosie,” she whispers. “How are you going to keep this a secret, you’re going to be like three months along.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a heavy exhale. “I don’t know, but I have to talk to him first.”
“I won’t tell anybody, I swear,” she whispers.
I hide the pregnancy test in a box of tampons, snorting as I do. How fitting. Riley tells me that she has to go and I thank her before giving her a hug.
“We got this,” she whispers in my ear.
I watch her walk away and try to keep from crying. If my father didn’t hate Bailey before, he’s definitely going to hate him now.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I look down once I’m inside of my car and away from Rosalie. It’s an angry text from Tinker. He wants to know where the fuck I am. I guess I should tell him, especially since I ran out of his bedroom this morning while he was passed out. I could blame it on Rosalie, but I didn’t get her urgent phone call until I was already in my apartment and showering.
Dustin “Tinker” Brady has been my crush since I was old enough to notice boys. He’s always been the one. Unfortunately, for me, I’m not his one and only.
In fact, I’m one of many.
He almost made some brand-slut his Old Lady around six years ago. My uncle Camo talked him out of it, and I leapt for joy when Tinker listened to his advice and didn’t go through with it.
However, after that, he turned from wild to feral. He started fucking anything and everything that had tits. Every time I would see him with some new whore, it chipped away at my heart.
When I turned eighteen I had some bright idea that I would make him mine. It was right before I got my sister and Rosalie, kidnapped. Another bright idea of mine. I decided to date someone closer to my own age. I just didn’t go about it the smartest way.
I met Benny online. He seemed awesome, and when he wanted to meet in a public place, I just knew he was going to be someone who would keep my mind off of Tinker. No other boy had been able to do that, keep me from thinking, or lusting, after my father’s man—and trust me I’d tried with other boys before.
The entire plan of mine blew up in my face. Benny was part of some club that was going to take over the Notorious Devils, and they kidnapped me, Finley, and Rosalie in an attempt to do just that. Luckily, it didn’t work. My dad may be older, but he’s a badass and pretty damn scary. Combine him with the rest of the Devils, and they’re virtually unstoppable. Thank God. They saved our lives.
I start my engine, and my phone buzzes again. I ignore it and drive back to my apartment. I need to come up with some kind of plan. If I don’t, I’ll be married to Tinker by next weekend.
The teenager inside of me does a cartwheel at that thought, but the intelligent woman, she has no desire to be shackled to a guy who can’t keep his dick in his pants—no matter how great that dick feels.
My phone won’t stop. Tinker keeps calling me over-and-over. I can almost tell how angry he is just by the way the phone dances on the passenger side of the car. Letting out a sigh of relief, I pull into my parking spot at my apartment complex and put my car in park.
Glancing down at my cell, I debate on taking it upstairs with me. Deciding if my dad, or anybody in my family calls, they’ll be pissed if I don’t have it with me. I shove it in my purse before unfolding out of my car. I hurry toward the staircase and upstairs, turning down my hall.
I keep my head down, focusing on my steps, and trying to figure out what I’m going to do about Tinker. I think about where I’m going to run to, and if I’m going to go east or south, maybe even north.
When I reach my front door, I suck in a gasp. He’s standing right in front of my door, his eyes pointed at me, and he’s fucking pissed—no livid. I’ve actually never seen him angry before, and I fearfully take a step back.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he growls, reaching for me.
He wraps his hand around my wrist and tugs me forward, taking my keys from my hand. I stand shocked still as he unlocks my apartment door and drags me inside, slamming it closed and locking it.
“Tinker,” I whisper.
He makes a growling noise as he reaches for my purse. I watch in horror when he sticks his hand inside, roots around and pulls out my phone. “So it ain’t dead,” he announces. “And it ain’t broke.” He throws the phone back in my bag and drops the whole thing on the floor. “I thought something happened to you,” he states.
“I-I-I went to see, Rosalie. She needed me,” I stammer.
Tinker shakes his head. “What the fuck is going through that pretty head of yours, Riley?” he hisses.
I shake my head and look down at my feet. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to tell him my fears and have him give me some bullshit empty promises to appease me. I just want him to love me as much as I love him, but I know that won’t ever happen.
He’s marrying me because my dad’s making him. He didn’t even want anybody to know about us until I got pregnant, then he had no choice. I want a man who wants me, for me, not because my dad is forcing him to do anything.
“What do you want? We had sex this morning, you can’t possibly be horny again,” I exhale.
Tinker’s head jerks back and his eyes narrow. “You think that’s why I’m calling you, that’s why I’m here?”
I blink. There is obvious disbelief and maybe a little hurt in his voice, but I can’t be hearing that correctly. I honestly can’t remember a time when he contacted me, and sex wasn’t what he was after. That’s pretty much what our entire relationship has revolved around.
“Sugar, you’re fucked up,” he murmurs. I gasp when his hands wrap around my waist and he tugs me against his chest. “We got shit to discuss. Like where we’re going to live after next weekend, and I gotta take you over to Cleo’s shop to pick out a ring.”
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head once. “I don’t want any of it,” I whisper. The lie tumbles from my lips easy enough but I’m not sure the look on my face is pulling it off.
Tinker shakes his head and dips his chin. His lips brush mine and I can’t stop the shiver from running through me. “You’re full of shit, sugar. My baby’s in your belly, my ring’ll be on your finger, and you’ll have my brand on your body. You’re mine now, Riley—fuckin’ mine.”
I open my mouth to protest but he fills it with his tongue. His hands slide down to cup my ass and he picks me up. Without a word, he carries me to my bedroom, never breaking our kiss.
Like the love drunk fool that I am, I let him, in fact, I kiss him back with everything that I am. I’m completely unable to control myself.
My fingers dive into his longish hair and I grip him tightly, tugging his head back. I bite his bottom lip, rougher than I had anticipated but his dark eyes almost glitter.
“Sugar, you think you can push me away, you got another thing comin’,” he growls as he lowers me to my feet.
Tinker grabs ahold of the hem of my shirt and lifts it from my body, he expertly divests me of my bra next, throwing both items on the floor. Then he takes his own shirt off before he reaches for the button of my shorts and tugs it off. “Strip it down,” he grunts as he tugs down his jeans and kicks his boots off.
&nb
sp; I do as he demands, stripping my shorts and panties off. My entire body feels like it’s on fire. I’m one ball of aching flesh and I need him to help me relieve the pain.
Once he’s naked, I press my hands against his chest, and push him down, crawling up his body. Wrapping my hand around his hard cock, I position it at my center and I slowly sink down, taking all of him inside of me.
“Goddammit, Riley,” he groans, his hands wrapping around my hips.
Placing my hands behind me gripping his thighs, I start to ride him. Fuck me, he feels so damn good. Each stroke sends me higher, and then one of his hands tugs on my nipple, and I swear it’s connected to my clit. I gasp and fall forward slightly, my hands moving to brace myself against his chest.
“Look at me when you fuck me, sugar,” he rasps.
My eyes stay glued to his. Gone are my slow, sensual movements. My body is wound too tight, and I slam down against him, grinding my clit against his pelvis over and over. There is no slowing me down. I’m on a mission, a mission to take from this man. I love him, the bastard, and I know he’s going to break me into a million pieces.
One of his hands gently caresses my breast while the other moves to my belly. His touch is so gentle, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt from him before, and my eyes water. “Fuck me, sugar. Take it all out on me, everything,” he whispers.
I do. I fuck him hard and fast, my orgasm rushing through me until I collapse against his chest, burying my face in his neck. Tinker lifts his hips a few times before he lets his own groan out and fills me with his release.
Then he gently strokes my hair and my back. “Talk to me, Riley,” he whispers.
I pinch my eyes closed so tightly that it forces more tears out against his skin. I shake my head, unwilling to tell him anything. I’m scared.
“We have a lifetime together, take your time,” he whispers.
A lifetime?
We have a lifetime together?
Is he high?
He must be.
“Sleep, sugar,” he murmurs.
It sounds like a good idea. My body starts to relax and wrapped up in his arms it doesn’t take me long to fall asleep. No matter what, even if it will hurt me, kill me actually, my heart will always love this man. This is where I belong, or at least where I want to belong. In his arms. It’s where I will most likely be hurt the worst, too.
I hold her while she sleeps. My Riley. I’ve wanted her since she was too young for me to notice. I slept with her when she was too young for me to even think about like that. I’ve kept her at arm’s distance because it was safer for her, and for me.
I selfishly wanted to wait until the timing was right to announce that she was mine. I kept putting it off, it was easier to just enjoy what we had without defining it to the world. It was fucking lazy of me. Now, she can be mine forever and she’s resisting.
She’s scared, maybe she’s scared of me?
Maybe she’s scared to be a mother?
Maybe she thinks I’m going to fuck everything up? I probably will.
I love her. I’ve always loved her. Now, I just have to make her see that. I have to prove to her that I’m hers and she’s mine, and this is the way it was always meant to be—no matter how it all came about. I’m going to prove it to her. I’m going to prove that I’m who she needs.
FOUR WEEKS LATER
I’m fucking exhausted. I didn’t think that this would be so hard. In fact, I thought that it would be a piece of cake. I thought I was fit. I thought I could handle it all. I couldn’t handle a goddamn thing.
“Mail call,” the drill instructor calls out. I practically hold my breath as he starts throwing letters toward each guy.
“Duhart,” he shouts. I can’t help but feel that thrill of excitement as he throws a letter in my direction. I know it’s from Rosalie. She’s sent me a letter for every single day I’ve been in here.
I rip open the envelope and unfold the pages, craving her words like a fucking drug.
Bailey,
I hope you’re doing okay. I miss you. I just found out that I won’t be able to go down to San Diego to see you graduate. My dad made it perfectly clear that he wants you to come here and talk to him before we even see each other. Whatever. I miss you, I already said that I know, but it’s true.
Riley and Tinker are married, like married-married. It’s weird. They’re having a baby together, I don’t know if anybody else told you that.
I haven’t heard from you yet. Are you okay? I’m starting to get a little worried. Please tell me that we’re good.
I love you,
Rosalie
Her words roll around in my head. I pull out a piece of paper, noting the time. It’s not that I don’t want to write to her, it’s that I’m not given much time to do so. Also, I never know what to say.
My days are pretty much the same thing over and over. I enjoy the monotony. I like knowing what is expected, and what’s to come. It’s organized, and structured, something I haven’t had a lot of in my life.
I write my letter quickly. Ten weeks without a word from me has made my girl self-conscious. I don’t blame her, I would probably be going crazy if I were in her shoes.
I flush the toilet and stand on wobbly legs. Damn. Morning sickness, or as I like to call it, every-second-of-every-day-sickness, blows. I’m exhausted all of the time and sick, and emotional as hell. I thought as the pregnancy went along that I would start to feel better, but I feel worse as each day passes.
Riley and I made joint doctor appointments, mainly because I didn’t want to have to explain why I was going to the doctor to my parents. She’s been a godsend, during this whole thing. Both of our babies measure healthy and growing. We saw their heartbeats, and the machine said that we conceived the same night. It’s creepy as hell, but I guess weddings will do that to people.
I splash water on my face and look in the mirror. I look pale, but there’s an undertone shine to my skin, all those wives’ tales are right, pregnant women do glow. A knock on my bathroom door startles me and my mom calls out from the other side.
“You have mail,” she practically squeals.
I reach for the handle and quickly yank the door open. My mom is holding a letter in her hand and I know without even looking at the writing that it must be from Bailey. “Is it from him?” I ask quietly.
She nods and hands it to me. I scoot past her and walk over to my bed, sinking down and holding the small envelope in my hand. I turn it from front to back and am almost scared to open it. I haven’t heard from him in almost eleven weeks. He has one more full week before he comes home, and then I have to tell him about our baby.
I’m scared of his reaction, and I’m nervous that after his experience he won’t want to marry me anymore. I’m still just Rosalie, and he’s been through what I’m sure is a life-changing experience. What if he’s outgrown me?
“Are you going to open it?” my mom whispers.
Glancing up from my place at the bed, I notice that she’s hovering in the doorway. “I am,” I murmur.
“I’ll leave you alone then,” she states.
I watch as she turns around and walks away, closing my bedroom door behind her. My mom has been kind of sad lately, and she keeps asking me if I’m okay. I don’t know why, or maybe I do. I think that maybe she suspects something is up with me. I don’t know if she suspects that I’m pregnant, but she knows that something is wrong. I want to tell her so badly, but I can’t risk my father finding out yet—not until Bailey knows.
Ripping open the envelope, I close my eyes as I unfold the paper and let out a breath. Reopening my eyes, I focus on Bailey’s strong small uppercase words.
ROSALIE,
HEY BLUE EYES.
I MISS YOU MORE THAN YOU COULD KNOW.
THIS WILL BE SHORT BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME. I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU THAT I LOVE YOU. I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU SOON. I HOPE YOU’RE READY TO BE ROSALIE DUHART. I’M NOT WAITING EVEN A SECOND LONGER TO MAKE YOU MINE.
MOM WROTE ME AND TOLD ME ABOUT RILES. CRAZY. I CAN’T IMAGINE TINKER BEING A DAD. I HOPE THEY’RE HAPPY THOUGH.
GTG. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THOSE BLUE EYES AGAIN.
BAILEY
It’s short and sweet. To the point. It makes my heart practically sing. One week, one week and he’ll be here with me. I fold the letter back up and stick it in my nightstand drawer.
“Ready for the barbeque?” Remi yells from the other side of my bedroom door.
I stand and wipe my hands on my jean shorts. I glance at myself in my full-length mirror and am glad for the tucked in oversized shirt—it hides my growing belly. I throw my hair up in a ponytail and head out of the bedroom.
Today we’re just having a family barbeque, hanging out with the Devils and enjoying the end of summer. I have a feeling that the women are using today as an opportunity to plan a welcome home party for Bailey.
My mom is in the driver’s seat, my brothers are in the back and I hurry to the passenger side, slipping in and closing the door. “Where’s Dad?” I ask as my mom shifts the car into reverse.
“He’s already there, setting up,” she shrugs. “What did Bailey have to say?”
I clear my throat and tell her, summarizing his letter and leaving out the part about us being married as soon as he arrives back home. We drive toward the clubhouse in silence. As soon as my mom parks my brothers are out and running off.
My mom wraps her hand around my knee and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry you can’t go to his graduation.”
“Me too,” I nod.
Her brows furrow and her eyes search mine. “You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?” she urges.
I shake my head. I want to tell her, I want to tell her so damn badly, but I can’t. I want to believe that she would understand, that she would help me, however, I don’t know what her reaction will be. I need Bailey with me, he needs to know, and together we can figure everything out.
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