Resilient

by Gillian Archer

  Brittany of course wasted no time rubbing my face in her superior matchmaking skills. Not that she ever would admit she’d set us up. She ran right over to us at the first club barbecue that weekend and chortled with glee. “Nicole and Ta-ank sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

  Tank raised an eyebrow. “We’re not kissing.”

  I leaned over and laid a huge one on my guy. After a beat his tongue slipped into my mouth and I groaned, taking the kiss deeper. I forgot where I was, what time of day it was, and even who was standing only inches away from us, until someone cleared their throat loudly and annoyingly.

  “Hey, hey! None of that. There are kids here.” Brittany mock scowled at us.

  “What?” I blinked innocently at Brittany. “We were just doing what you told us to do.”

  “That reminds me. We need to go find a tree and finish out the song.” Tank grabbed my arm and pulled me away from a very satisfied-looking Brittany.

  “Wait.” I pulled his hand back to me. “I think we need to talk limits. I’m not even remotely ready for a baby carriage.”

  “That’s not the song I’m talking about. I’m thinking of the version Bumper sang to me a few weeks ago. His ended with us f-u-c-k-i-n-g in a tree.”

  I heard a long, drawn-out gasp behind me, and then a little boy yelled, “Daaaaaad, Tank spelled a dirty word!”

  Tank glowered at the boy. “Dammit. I mean, dang it, Tucker. What happened to the code? No snitching on your friends.”

  “I guess that means you’re not friends.” Reb laughed as he came up and tussled Tucker’s hair.

  Tucker scowled at Reb. “Not in front of the guys, Dad.”

  Tank laughed as he steered me toward the kegs.

  I could see what Brittany was talking about when she said her guys weren’t like the bikers I knew in California. These guys brought their kids to parties. Well, not all the parties, but family was a huge part of the True Brothers MC. We’d never gone to barbecues with the club Bear was a part of. I don’t think I could’ve picked any of his biker friends out of a lineup—aside from Mr. Lanza. He was the only one of Bear’s associates who wore three-piece suits, and the only person ever I’d heard Bear address as “mister.” He was the kinda man who left an impression. And he was the only one to come by our house and call me and Austin by name. But now that I think about it, that might’ve been an intimidation tactic, since it made Bear’s face go pale.

  Speaking of Austin, I bit the bullet and called him the week after Street Vibrations to fill him in on our parental drama.

  Turned out he’d already had advance warning.

  “Dad looked me up when he first got out of prison over a year ago. I guess I should’ve changed my last name or picked a different fucking city than Sac. ’Cause somehow he found me. He needed a place to crash when he got out.”

  “Wait, a year ago? That doesn’t sound right. Him and Mom just hooked up.”

  “Maybe they’re just telling you now. You’re not exactly Dad’s fan club president.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Silence reigned on the line for a moment.

  “Right? You didn’t give him a spot on your couch, did you?” I asked incredulously.

  “What do you want me to say, Nic? He’s our dad.”

  “Who used to beat Mom, remember that? Remember how bad he used to make us feel? How worthless? What the hell, Austin. How could you?”

  “He apologized,” Austin answered defensively.

  “He said ‘I’m sorry’? He actually said those words to you?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  I stared blankly ahead at Tank’s bedroom wall. I didn’t know how to process that. Bear had apologized to Austin and somehow that magically wiped the slate clean. Did he say the same to Mom? Was that why she took him back? Why was I the only one who saw Bear’s attitude as a deal breaker?

  And why didn’t he apologize to me? Was what he did to me so insignificant that it didn’t merit an apology?

  Austin laughed uncomfortably. “It’s not that surprising that she took him back, Nic. I remember how much Mom loved him and how hard it was for her to move away after Dad went to prison. Maybe they’re fated—like Romeo and Juliet, or Rose and Leo from that stupid ship movie you made me watch so many times.”

  “Titanic?” I blinked in confusion. What the hell was Austin talking about?

  “Yeah, that’s the one. You know, the kinda love story where they have to be together and ruin everyone’s life in the process? That’s Mom and Dad.”

  “Apparently not in your eyes, because you forgave him for all the shit he did to us.”

  “Really, Nic? That’s what you think?”

  “That’s what you said. Daddy came crawling to you straight from the prison gates—after he did time for murdering someone—and you forgave him lickety-split. That’s what I know.”

  “You know what? How about you call me when you grow up, little sis.”

  I tossed my phone onto the bed after my brother hung up on me. “Argh! Seriously? And I’m the crazy one.”

  Tank stepped out of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “Problem?”

  “Apparently Austin already knew about all our parent bullshit because our father went to him when he got out of prison. Austin let the fucker crash on his couch because Austin forgave him. Evidently ten plus years of mental abuse is easily forgiven, and I’m the brat who needs to grow up.”

  “Ah, baby girl. That fucking sucks.” Tank looked at me with soft eyes from across the room, and my heart melted. Really, all I wanted at that moment was to have his arms around me, so I wouldn’t feel like my world was ending—but the foam around his lips and toothbrush hanging out of his mouth had me hesitating.

  Tank sucked in a breath, then lifted a hand to his toothbrush. “Give me a sec.”

  He ducked back into the bathroom, leaving me alone on his bed with my morose thoughts. But only for a moment. Before I could delve too quickly into my pity party, Tank swooped in and enveloped me in his huge arms and minty fresh breath.

  “Family is tough, hon. You wanna love ’em and support ’em and be there for ’em, but sometimes you just need some distance.”

  I rested my head on his chest and sighed. “I just don’t get what they see that I don’t. Why can they forgive him, but I can’t?”

  “I don’t know, babe. Dysfunction is what makes the world go ’round for some people. Like Christy. She should’ve ditched her dead weight years ago, but they’re still together.”

  I froze when Tank mentioned his sister. I really didn’t want to get into it about her. I wasn’t a snitch, plus I knew how much he loved her. This thing between him and me was so new, I wasn’t gonna fuck it up over a petty argument over her assumptions.

  But my body language must’ve given me away because Tank pulled back slightly and gave me a look. “What did she do?”

  “Who?”

  “Christy. She was over here last Friday taking care of Stella for me. I saw the way you froze up when I said her name. So tell me. What did she do?”

  “Nothing.” I shrugged. “She fed Stella and gave her some medicine.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. If this”—he waved a hand between us—“is gonna work, you can’t feed me a line of bull just because you think I won’t like the truth. What. Did. She. Do.”

  Even as my heart raced at the anger he was displaying, my body started to tingle in other areas. God, why did he have to look so damn hot when he was being so arrogant and commanding? I had to look away before I could tell him the truth. “She assumed I was a stripper because I knew Brittany, and then called me a skank because I obviously whore around with your buddies at the motorcycle club. I, uh, also got the impression that she doesn’t think much of the True Brothers MC.”

  The total silence in the room made me a little unnerved so I chanced a peek at his face. His eyes were hard and the muscles in his jaw flexed a few times while he processed my news. I shrank a little, hunchin
g my shoulders as I anticipated an explosion that never came. After a few moments, he gave me a short nod, then said, “I’ll take care of it.”

  That was it.

  I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone get so pissed and not immediately have to blow off steam in some way, shape, or form. He just accepted it and swallowed his anger. Was that something they taught in the Marines?

  “Ready for bed?” Tank asked me.

  “In a sec. I just need to brush my teeth.”

  “After,” Tank growled as he grabbed me around the waist and picked me up.

  I didn’t have long to wonder what he meant when he took five steps and dropped me on the bed. Apparently Tank did have an outlet for his steam.

  And I was so happy to help him.

  He made a deep growling sound from the back of his throat as he kissed and nipped his way down my throat. His hands pinned me down, not letting me move. I couldn’t even arch toward his mouth. His breath panted over my skin and left a wake of goosebumps in its path. He was practically feral. And I wanted so much more of him.

  “Tank.” My legs moved restlessly under him. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel him. “Let go. I can’t do anything with you holding me down.”

  He laughed. “Who says I want you to do anything? You need to get used to letting someone else have control.”

  “Hey, if you’re wanting to do all the work, I’m more than happy to let you.” I laughed. Like it would be a struggle to just sit back and enjoy the sexy man on top of me.

  Tank’s hold on me immediately gentled. His fingers interlaced with mine while still holding my hands down. His lips continued to cruise south until he pulled up my nightshirt with his teeth so he could capture my nipple with his clever lips. He tugged and teased and nipped the throbbing tips of my breasts forever. Long, agonizing minutes where I could only moan and try to arch closer and then curse him when his exquisite torture continued. I wanted his fingers on my aching clit or thrusting into me, not pinning me down so I couldn’t do anything.

  “This is torture, you son of a bitch. Let me go or get to the good stuff. Foreplay ended five minutes ago.”

  Tank didn’t budge. He continued to worship at my breasts with an intensity I’d never felt before. But I knew he heard me, judging by how his hands tightened their hold on me. After several more minutes of exquisite torture, Tank pulled both my hands up over my head until he could hold me down with one hand while his other skimmed down my body, moved over my belly, and dove inside my panties.

  I wanted to shout finally, but I was afraid of spooking him. And then a second later I wasn’t capable of coherent thought. Over the past few weeks Tank had learned everything about my body—including exactly how I liked my clit touched. I think this time it only took him ten seconds before my first orgasm rocked through my body.

  I was still quivering when he pushed away, and I felt a cold draft as he pulled my shirt up over my head and then pushed my panties down my thighs and off.

  “Good,” he grunted. “Now I can finally feel you.”

  I wanted to ask him what he meant, but I was too busy trying to keep up. He didn’t bother getting out of his boxer shorts. Instead he burrowed between my legs, pushing my thighs wide with his hands and shoulders until he was comfortable. I wasn’t about to stop him. I laced my fingers through his hair and held on.

  His beard brushed against my thighs, and half my body broke out in goosebumps. He blew gently against my sex and I shivered. I think my fingers must’ve gripped tighter because he grunted something that I couldn’t make out, since his face was currently occupied. I tried to loosen my hold, but I wasn’t exactly in control of my limbs at the moment.

  Tank played my body like a violin. Between his fingers, tongue, and lips, I was a mess of need and moaning incoherently. It all felt so good. His tongue teased the nerve-filled lips guarding my sex while he continued to tease my clit with his gentle touch. Every time I would get close to climaxing, he’d back off, withdrawing until I was screaming at him to finish me.

  “Tank! Please! Oh God. I’m not, I can’t—Oh my god. Please!” This time he built me to a fever pitch until I was so desperate to come I think I would’ve sold my soul. And then he flicked my clit with a practiced hand and I lost it. Waves of pleasure rolled through my body, and it felt like every ounce of sexual energy was sucked from me, starting from my toes and fingertips and working its way in until it pulsed from my sex. When it was over, my whole body went lax like a limp noodle.

  I know I had a goofy smile on my face, but I didn’t care. I’d had two orgasms. My night was complete.

  But apparently not.

  In the distance I heard a rustling sound, then some crinkling, and then Tank was on top of me. I opened my eyes and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

  “You okay, baby girl?”

  “Hey, you were the one who said I didn’t have to do anything.” I laughed. “This is your show, Tank. I’m just happy to have been able to participate.”

  Tank laughed as he nudged his condom-covered cock at my sex. He didn’t break eye contact as he slowly slid inside me. And both our laughter fell away. His eyes grew warm, and it felt like he could see my soul. Thrusting slowly, he bent down and gently covered my lips in a kiss so tender tears leaked from my eyes.

  I had to close my eyes. It was too intense. I could do hard and fast, but sweet and gentle just about broke me. Somehow over the past two weeks I’d developed intense feelings for this man. Feelings that I wasn’t sure I was all that comfortable with.

  Tank’s pace picked up until the room was filled with the sound of our slapping flesh. And it felt so good. I lost myself in the intense sensation of him inside me until my third orgasm hovered just out of reach. At the bottom of each thrust, Tank’s piercing bounced against my engorged clitoris and felt like a spark trying to ignite an inferno.

  Tank’s hard body moved against mine once, twice, three times, and then I went over. My third orgasm was less intense than the previous two but I wasn’t exactly going to complain.

  Tank paused for a second, then picked up the pace again. I ran my fingernails up his back, encouraging him on. A few moments later he groaned and collapsed on me. I smiled and wrapped my arms around him. Giving him a little peck on the cheek, I reveled in the feeling of his weight on me. We lay like that for a few minutes, both recovering from our orgasms and whatever that moment had been earlier. At least on my part.

  Then he gave me a smacking kiss before he crawled off the bed and made for the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

  I covered my face with my hands and bit back my groan. I didn’t want Tank to hear. My mind whirled as I tried to come to terms with the feelings swirling around me at the moment. Like? Love? What was this? Between my family drama, his family drama, and whatever this was between us, I was a muddled mess of confusion and—crap, he looked really good naked.

  Tank swaggered back into the bedroom and grinned when he saw he had my attention. He was carefree in that moment—it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. He stopped in front of me and slowly exaggerated his movements as he pulled on some boxers in an impressive display of flexing muscles and tattoos. He gave me a goofy wink, then asked, “You still wanna brush your teeth before bed, baby girl?”

  I nodded mutely and fled for the safety of the bathroom as Tank wolf whistled behind me. Crap, I’d forgotten that I was naked.

  Safely in the bathroom, I stared at the disheveled woman in the mirror. “You better get your shit together, girl.”

  Unfortunately, the girl looking back didn’t have any words of wisdom to lend me.

  “Did you say something, Nic?” Tank yelled from the bedroom.

  “Nope!” I grabbed my toothbrush and layered on some toothpaste. “Be out in a minute!”

  Just as soon as the butterflies in my stomach calmed down. I had a serious case of like edging toward love. For a biker. Holy hell.

  Chapter 23

  Nicole

  NOVEMBER 5<
br />
  Those six weeks were the best and worst of my life. Best because of Tank. He was beyond my very optimistic hope for what a relationship with a biker could be. He was there for me, wanted to know what was going on in my life, and was so supportive. He cared. So simple, and yet it was more than I’d ever seen with my parents’ relationship.

  And then of course there was the sex. That man could play my body like a finely tuned instrument. We were lost in the magic of our budding relationship. It was tough at first, since our schedules were so opposite, but we made it work—mostly because we spend most of our time together in bed, and we always agreed in bed.

  And I finally had my friends back, too. Coming clean about everything in my past and being accepted by my friends was so freeing. They supported me. They were my family now. I made Emily come with me to Tank’s club a few Friday nights. It was so much fun to flirt with the bouncer, have a few drinks, and dance with my friends, then “help” Tank on his breaks in the back room.

  But there were the quiet times, too. Right before falling asleep, on those nights when our schedules aligned, we’d talk about our lives—Tank and his struggle with PTSD and his ugly divorce from Abby. How Stella was the one to pull him through his darkest times. My life was practically a fairy tale in comparison. But still I told him about my old boss and his attempt to sabotage me, how I’d gotten a promotion despite Doug, and how bitchy I’d been to Jessica and Emily when they first hooked up with their guys. And Tank listened to it all without judgment. He had this way of making me feel like I was the most important person in his life—and I was, as long as I was in his arms.

  But the second his cell rang and the club needed him to do something, he kissed my forehead and was gone without an explanation. I knew better than to ask for one.

  And yet every time he left, it made me think about my mom. Was this the way she’d felt about my dad? I wasn’t ready to use “the L word,” but I had a huge case of like going on. I couldn’t imagine feeling this way toward a guy who wasn’t worthy of my feelings, but that was what my mom had. It hurt my heart. She deserved so much more than that.