Reaper's Promise: A Wild Reapers MC

by Kiki Leach

  "No, thanks," I told him.

  I leaned against the frame and looked around the kitchen. The linoleum was shockingly spotless, which only told me that he didn't spend much time in here as of late, at least not long enough to make himself some food. The island was covered with sacks of brown bananas and bread that, from where I stood, appeared to be turning completely green in color. Pots and pans still hung high above it on the rack dangling from the ceiling and it was clear that each one had yet to be used outside of the few times I had taken chances with trying something new with whatever food happened to be in the fridge or cabinets at the time.

  On the opposite side was a chrome microwave, which was currently blinking the wrong time. It looked sleek and new and completely more for Jeremiah than Roman, considering the latter often appreciated the plain black one that he had for much longer than I had even known him, with splattered food across the inside of the door and a broken handle; while the round table seated near the enclosed patio looked just as rickety as always. Another shop class project, I noticed that someone had removed the book from beneath one of the legs that just so happened to be a few inches shorter than the other three.

  As Roman pulled back on the door to the fridge and reached inside for a cold beer, he peeked over at me again and nodded. "You're sure you don't want one for yourself, babe?"

  "I think after last night that I've had my fill of drinking for the entire damn year," I said. "Probably even reached some kind of quota that I didn't even know existed considering the way my head was pounding when I finally woke up this morning."

  "Alright." He slammed the door shut, then snapped the lid off the beer with his teeth like a caveman and tossed it into the trash beneath the sink. Then he raised the neck of it to his lips and slightly tipped his head back, gulping.

  With each swallow, he kept his eyes keenly focused on mine, almost as if to keep my attention on him and nothing else in the room. He didn't have that problem though, he never did when it came to me, even when his brother was around. But something inside me jumped this time with excitement, watching his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, taking note of his neck muscles and just how strong they seemed to be as the beer splashed against the back of his tongue and glided down his throat; while something else beneath the surface of all that had just leaped out at me with fear.

  I was absolutely terrified to be alone with this man for any longer than what I had been already. Not because of what he could do to me, but because of what I was certain I would let him do to me over... and over... and over... and over... and over again to the point of completely embarrassing myself in front of him for years to come. Though I wasn't exactly expecting to still be in this for longer than maybe a few weeks’ tops, there was another deeper, darker and much more sexually aroused part of me that wanted to see just how far things went between us, both good and bad.

  Sure, it was all crazy -- the biker and the kindergarten teacher getting blackout drunk and tying the knot in Vegas; the biker refusing an annulment and keeping his lips zipped regarding how the hell it all happened in the first place and why -- but at this point, what else did I have to lose anymore? My co-workers would probably give me enough side-eye to cause their eyes to stick, the parents of my students would probably whisper about me to each other during PTA meetings while secretly wondering if the Reapers were as wild and crazy as people around town often made them out to be. I would be envied and despised; chewed up, spit out, tossed into the nearest trashcan and probably recycled. Everyone and their mother would have something to say about it, good or bad. Jeremiah would have something to say if he ever managed to learn about it, though I wasn't all that certain he ever would.

  "You know, I want to make sure that I get to keep my place," I told Roman as the thought suddenly started swirling around inside my head.

  He lowered the beer and wiped his free hand back and forth across his mouth. "What?"

  "My house. I want to keep it in case all of this just so happens to blow up in my face much sooner rather than later like I'm almost expecting for it to."

  His brows pinched. "Yeah, we can rent it out if need be, babe. But uh..." He swiped his palm across his chin. "Are you really not expecting for this shit to work out between us?" he asked me, his tone curious and somewhat suspect.

  "You can't tell me that you're actually expecting the opposite," I said with a slight chuckle. He remained quiet. "I mean, I agreed to play by your rules for the time being if only because going against you now doesn't seem to be the smartest thing in the world for me to do, but--"

  "Do you think that I'd actually hurt you if you didn't?" he asked me, his question genuine; his jaw locked and his nose wrinkled as if he had suddenly gotten a whiff of something that smelled bad.

  I blinked up at him and made a face. "What?"

  "Do you think I'd hurt you?" he asked me again, his tone more even this time but still curious and filled with fear of what I would say to him in return. "Do you think I would try to do something to you physically to keep you from leaving me?"

  "God, Roman." I shook my head at him in shock that he would even allow those words to leave his mouth and stood away from the frame. "No."

  "Then what you said about--"

  "What I said was that..." I paused and took in a breath, slowly releasing it. He swallowed hard and kept his eyes hard and focused on my face. "What I said is not what I meant, at least not in the way that it came out."

  "Then what the hell did you mean with it, darlin'?" His gaze had become more intense now, much more inviting.

  Just then, my sex clinched and I bit down hard on my lip. The way this man seemed to have such an effect on me was both dangerously exciting and excruciatingly painful. "Um..." I mentally spluttered around for the right answer. "I just meant that you don't seem all that eager in trying to end this."

  "I'm not," he reassured me.

  "I know," I replied. "You're not eager and trying to go against that any more than what I have already just doesn't seem like the best thing in the world for me to do right now. Wasted energy and all that."

  He continued staring at me for a long while, then placed his beer on the counter and dropped back, folding his arms across his perfectly sculpted chest. He looked just like a statue made of stone and all I could seem to think about was just how much I wanted to climb him like one.

  Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me?

  "Babe," he started, snapping me out of my little fantasy of him. "I don't want this to end 'cause I'm sorta thinking that us being married might be able to benefit us both in a way."

  I winced, certain that somewhere in between our conversation, he had completely lost it. "How?"

  "Well for one, it keeps my cock in check when it comes to the other bitches at the club. I won't have to--"

  "Hold on for a second... bitches?" I made a face of disgust and looked away from him while trying to process what he had just said to me and why. "Do you really have to call them that? I mean, I've heard it from time to time from the others, but... it's just -- it's crass. And, crude. And rude, and... completely unacceptable."

  He lifted his shoulders and carelessly shoved out his bottom lip. "It's what my old man always told me they are, darlin'," he said. "Club pussy and all that."

  "Does that make it right?" I asked him.

  "Right or wrong, it's what I've always known."

  "Well, maybe it's time for you to finally learn something else."

  "Like what?" he asked me. "Shit, what do you think I should call them instead?"

  "I don't know, 'women', maybe?" I snapped. "Or how about by their names."

  He shook his head at me as if I had no business even discussing it and replied, "That shit's irrelevant unless they're regulars we plan on keeping around the place for one reason or another, babe."

  "Hm." I gradually moved inside the kitchen and nodded. "And does that one reason or another often include them having a taste of what's inside your pants?" As soon as the words left my
mouth, I clamped my hand down over it in complete shock at myself and muttered, "Oh shit," between my fingers, highly embarrassed. Just a few hours married to this man and already I was beginning to sound like my very own version of biker trash.

  While I remained completely mortified, Roman chuckled with what seemed like full blown pride. "I don't think I ever realized that you had such a mouth on you like that, Colette."

  I dropped my hand alongside myself and shook my head. "You know that I don't, normally, anyway. But I guess waking up next to you in Vegas with this diamond on my finger has just brought out a certain side of me; a much more colorful one I'm not all that sure I even like just yet, which is ironic."

  "Well I like that side of you just fine," he said. "I like it a whole motherfuckin' lot as a matter of fact."

  "I bet you do."

  He stared down into my face with such a heated desire in his eyes that I felt it all the way down to the tips of my toes and back up again; it was as if he wanted to eat me alive right there in the kitchen with nothing but his hands and thick, wet, soft tongue. And I'm ashamed to say just how much and how quickly I would've been willing to let him if he had just given me the word for it. But instead, he leaned away from the counter and stood directly in front of me, then said, "I need to take a quick shower before heading out to see the boys." I said absolutely nothing to him in response, too stunned by how he was still staring at me and by how much I enjoyed it. He nodded as a smirk crossed his lips, realizing the reason behind my silence, then shuffled around me.

  But before he could leave the kitchen, I remembered something.

  "Hey," I called out. He stopped and turned back to look me in the eyes again. "What about my car?"

  He shrugged. "What about it?"

  "Where the hell is it and when am I getting it back?"

  "As far as I know, it's still back there at the club, probably pushed off to the side of the garage while they worked on other cars. I'll have one of the boys haul it in for you tonight when I'm on my way back home."

  "There's no chance of you just calling one of them up and having them bring it by now? I'd be able to head back to my house and pick up some things while you're out there doing whatever the hell it is that you bikers do with each other."

  "No," he replied, his tone stern and steady. He furrowed his brows for a few seconds as if he were thinking something, then lowered his eyes to the floor. "Like I said, I'll have one of the boys bring it by here tonight."

  "You won't even allow me access to my own damn car, but don't consider this kidnapping?"

  "You're free to go on foot if you want," he said. "Nobody's stopping you from doing that much, darlin'."

  "At over twenty-two and a half miles away from this place driving, you're actually giving me the option of walking back home? Gee, thanks."

  He snickered. "I never said you didn't have a choice. By the way, you'll be bunking with me in my bedroom tonight and from here on."

  I blinked up at him and bugged my eyes. "Wait, what?"

  "Unless you want me to sleep on one of the couches out here, which I can."

  "Well, what about the other three bedrooms in this place?"

  "What about them?"

  I soured and wrinkled my nose. "What about me sleeping in one of those rooms instead?"

  "Jeremiah's room is off limits for obvious reasons and the guest rooms are for guests only, which you're far from being at this point."

  "So it's your bedroom and no other option? Unless I decide to sleep at my house instead, I guess?"

  "That walk back to your place sounds real nice right about now, yeah?" he replied, his tone filled with sarcasm. When I failed to respond to it, he shrugged. "Look, we slept together last night and--"

  "What?"

  He stopped and laughed quietly, taking note of my panicked expression, and wagged his head. "I mean we were in the same bed last night, babe, asleep. Nothing happened between us--"

  "Nothing except for the marriage."

  "Yep, nothing except for that. Listen, you can figure out where you wanna sleep while I'm in the shower, alright? And maybe fix yourself something to eat if you get hungry... and while you're at it, you can fix me something too."

  "I thought you said you would eat at the club?"

  "Darlin', if you're willing to fix something for me instead, then I've changed my mind." He winked at me before disappearing around the corner and down the hall to his bedroom.

  I fell back against the wall near the kitchen and slid my hands down the front of my skirt. Then I pressed my knees together and tried like hell to keep my mind focused on how angry and annoyed I was with him instead of how delectable he would look naked and in that shower with the water sliding all over his body, between the creases of his thick muscles, down the center of that perfectly sculpted ass and dripping from the head of his thick, giant cock like precum.

  Damn.

  I licked my lips and balled my fists to keep from touching myself while just thinking about it. Being doomed was no longer an option for me.

  Knowing that I would have to sleep in the same bed with this man every night -- because there was no way in hell that he would be sleeping on one of the couches no matter what he said about it; and from what I recall, he often went to bed completely naked as he didn't like being confined by t-shirts and hated feeling as if he couldn't let his dick and balls breathe at night -- was so far beyond the pale now that it could hardly be seen.

  Chapter Four

  Colette

  After taking some time to toss out the old food on the counters and some of what was left inside the fridge to get my mind off that man and my insatiable need for him, I sunk down into one of the couches in the living room and grabbed my cell from my purse to call up Maxine. Since Roman was so hell-bent on me staying put, it left me with no other choice but to get in touch with the one friend I had who not only had her own set of keys to my house but knew her way around my bedroom (thanks to her being the previous owner of the place) without me having to point things out to her via Facetime, and ask her to bring me some clothes and other things that I would need before the night was over and for in the morning.

  After a few rings to her cell and no answer, I left a brief voicemail and text about where the hell I was and why, along with Roman's home phone number and address just before my phone officially died due to the lack of a charge from overnight.

  Not two minutes later did Roman's house phone start blaring off the hook from the kitchen, and after kicking off my shoes, I jumped up and grabbed it without even bothering to look at the name and saying 'Hello'. Nothing but heavy breathing and a hard and fast 'shit' from what sounded like a man's voice greeted me on the other end before abruptly hanging up. I pulled the phone back and stared at the base for a few seconds, then flipped it over and pushed a few buttons on the back to check for who the hell it could've been. Everything came up private, name, phone number and even the area from where the call was made.

  "Hm." I placed it down on top of the counter and tapped my fingers along the edge while staring at it. Two seconds later it rang again and when I reached for it this time, I sucked in a deep breath before answering with a much quicker but quieter 'Hello'. But it didn't seem to matter because the person hung up again, this time without even breathing or saying an actual word. I placed the phone back down again and on a whim decided to see if it was the same asshole from before. When I pushed those same buttons, Jeremiah's name and number flashed across the screen. I jumped back as if I had just come across a snake in the grass and balled my fist. "Shit."

  I debated while continuing to stare at it, wondering if it was even worth mentioning to Roman given our current circumstances. I didn't want him telling Jeremiah anything about us being married just yet and over the phone, and I sure as hell had no desire to hear Jeremiah asking questions as to why I was in his house in the first place without him being there. After catching him in my house and bed with Cherry last night, I had all but blacked out while throwi
ng things at them and screaming until my voice nearly gave out. They both flew out the front door without their clothes on when I threatened them with a gun neither knew I didn't have, hopped into Jeremiah's truck and went speeding down the street. I never expected to see him again after that and in truth, never wanted to. Well, maybe part of me did, but not because I necessarily wanted to be with him again. What I sure as hell didn't expect was to wind up in this crazy as hell situation with his brother instead.

  After taking another look at the phone, I decided that it was probably better to just let Roman know about Jeremiah calling before he could find out for himself and question why the hell I didn't bother telling him about it first. I picked it up from the counter and tightened it inside my hand as I left the kitchen, and made my way down the hall to his bedroom at the very end.

  I stood in front of his door for a few seconds, slowly breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as it would be the first time I had ever seen his bedroom in person after all these years, then knocked twice. When I heard nothing on the other side, I lowered my hand to the knob and pushed back. The door opened with such ease and when I stepped inside, the hint of Old Spice and rum hit my nostrils almost immediately. "Roman?" I called out to him, but not loud enough for him to hear me after I realized that he was still in the shower. My eyes moved from one side of the room to the other, taking in the white, crumpled sheets on his king-sized bed as well as the small wooden table located near the window. He had a brown, handmade lamp that rested on top of his nightstand while his WILD REAPERS leather cut hung on a metal hook near the closet adjacent to his bathroom.

  I moved even further into the room and placed the phone down on the edge of the bed, then stepped closer to his cut and dragged my fingers across the worn leather, as well as his 1%, ASS KICKER and CULVER CITY OG patches. There were a few others lined up and down each side of the lapels that I didn't know what the hell they meant or why he needed so many of them in the first place, and as time had gone on over the years, I never thought to ask; mostly because I had no real desire to know. A part of me felt somewhat differently about that now but I wasn't sure of the exact way I needed to go about questioning him.