HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC

by Claire St. Rose

  She was shaking and frustrated, and all he did was put his best reassuring smile on. “I get that you’re feeling nervous, but let’s put things into perspective, Sugar.”

  “There’s nothing to—” she waved her hands in exasperation. “This isn’t what we planned! I love you, but everything is… wrong.”

  “It might not have been the original plan, but we have to work with what we’re given here, Ali. We just have to compromise. Make a few sacrifices.”

  “Except that I’m the one doing all the sacrificing. I keep sacrificing and sacrificing, and I’m afraid—” She bit her lip. “Bobby, I’m afraid if I make one more concession I’m going to just disappear. And no disrespect to your Mama—but I don’t want her life. I want my own life, the one we planned.”

  Bobby’s face screwed tight and he took a long swill of his coffee. When he finally spoke his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Suddenly he was Robert Dawson the politician, and not Bobby her fiancé. “You’re not the only one making sacrifices, Ali,” he said. “My brother is dead. The only way I can keep his memory alive, the only way I can honor all the good he did, is to do this.”

  She shook her head. “No, Bobby,” she said softly. “The good he did speaks for itself. It isn’t your responsibility to live his life. You have to live your own.”

  He picked at his eggs with his fork as he searched her eyes.

  “You’re turning into someone I don’t even know anymore,” she said sadly. “You’re stressed, and irritable, you drink too much, and you don’t sleep well anymore. I can’t remember the last time I saw you happy. When did you last have a really good laugh? You mean to tell me all this is worth it?”

  He held his gaze and insisted, “There’s a greater good involved here. I can’t just think about myself. Not now.”

  “Bobby, for cryin’ out loud, yes you can! And I need to think about myself as well. I don’t feel good giving up on the things I’ve worked so hard to accomplish. Everything else I have, someone’s given me. But my work is my very own. I didn’t get it from my parents or your family name. And I can’t give up that very precious thing to be folded into some ready-made life that got handed down from Kip. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  “Are you saying your job is more important than me? Than my brother's legacy? Than this whole campaign?”

  “No, I mean that my sanity is more important than your father’s dream. I love you, Bobby. You’re a wonderful man, and I thought we’d share an amazing life together, but this? This isn’t it.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly, Sugar." Robert Dawson's stern face dissolved away and it was her fiancé Bobby squeezing her fingers. "Let’s go home and talk about this later. This is just your jitters talking.”

  “No.” She surprised herself with her own firmness. “Things are perfectly clear. It’s not jitters. I don’t want the life you’re offering me. I don’t think I would ever be happy, and that isn’t fair to either of us.”

  “Things will calm down, eventually. You’re just overwhelmed by all this activity. I think you need to prioritize and take some things that aren’t working for you off your plate.”

  She shook her head. “That’s what I am doing. You’re just not listening.”

  “Ali, don’t. We’re so good together. We’ve had four good years.”

  “Yes.” She slipped her engagement ring off her finger and slid it across the table.

  “Alaine, for Christ’s sake, we’re in public,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Not here.”

  “Bobby. I love you. Please believe that. But I can’t do this. I... I'm calling it off. I need some time.” She stood on shaky legs and walked out of the diner as quickly as she could, blinking back tears until she got in her truck. She closed the door, collapsed against the steering wheel, and sobbed until she thought she’d burst from the pain. Bobby didn’t follow her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  His lips were tender on hers but his body was anything but gentle. A muscular thigh pressed between hers, a powerful hand pinned both of hers behind her back. He brushed his lips across hers, the slightest touch, and she wriggled in his embrace, eagerly seeking his mouth. He grinned and pulled back and she groaned in frustration.

  “I want you,” she whimpered.

  “I’m all yours, Ali.” His lips against her ear made her shiver, and greedy delight flooded her entire body. She ached between her legs where his strong thigh pressed deliciously against her mound. “You just have to say it. Tell me, Ali,” he crooned into her mouth. He feasted on her slowly, delicately licking and nibbling her lips, twining his tongue with hers. His thigh began a rhythmic motion against her pussy and she was embarrassed by how pleasurable the friction was. Her breath came in desperate little pants as she writhed against him.

  “I’ll say it first, then. I love you, Ali. I’ve always loved you.” His eyes were half-lidded with lust and the heat in them was unmistakable. “Tell me,” he commanded.

  Her breath caught from the dominance in his voice and the sensation it caused inside her, a swift tightening of her core and flooding between her thighs. He nipped at her throat and she cried out his name, eliciting a stifled groan. His fingers found the front of her shorts and deftly unfastened them, sliding down the front of her panties until they nestled between her hot, slick folds. She was close—so close that every movement of his fingertips against her was exquisite torture.

  He rubbed her steadily, whispering against her lips that he would love her forever. When she finally broke beneath his skillful fingers she cried, “I love you, Alejandro!” She sobbed his name over and over again, shuddering in his arms, her cheeks wet with their combined tears.

  ***

  The climax woke her up. It had happened to her before, but not in a very long time, and it surprised her. She squeezed her thighs together, savoring the last of the aftershocks and lay in a half-dream state, aching for his familiar touch, his lips against hers. Her entire body throbbed and she couldn’t stop hearing his voice saying her name.

  It’s just your stupid brain and your neglected cunt playing tricks on you, she scolded herself. You need to just go see him, make your peace, and put this behind you. You owe that to yourself.

  But as she lay spent in her bed, she couldn’t help the feeling that it was more than peace she wanted. It was more than his explanation, more than his apology, more than closure.

  It was Alejandro himself.

  They’d shared only one summer, but after he’d broken her heart Ali told herself that she would never love anyone again. For six whole years she did a good job of keeping her affairs brief and strictly physical. The thought of the pain she’d suffered when he abandoned her was more than enough to keep every man she met out of her heart, even if she didn’t keep them all out of her bed. When she met Bobby it was a relief to just stop running. She started their relationship with nothing to lose and gradually felt solid enough to put her faith in a man’s love once again.

  Though now she questioned, for the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours, whether she’d done the right thing by breaking it off with Bobby. Her mother’s unsympathetic words echoed in her head. You stupid girl. What were you thinking? He’s the best thing to ever happen to you, and you’re breaking it off because of his political career? Did you expect him to sit home and romance you all day? Grow up, Alaine! Men have careers, and women support them. That’s what we do. You had some time on your own. You spent your entire twenties being selfish. It’s time to start thinking of someone other than yourself. Poor Bobby must be heartbroken.

  The look in his eyes when she’d taken off her ring kept coming back to her. It was that look that told her she’d done the right thing. A heartbroken man would have looked desperate, bitter, even angry. Bobby just looked a little sad and completely clueless.

  She tried to remember the last time Bobby had made passionate love to her and was at a loss to recall a single incident of lovemaking in the past eight months. She realized that other tha
n a few kisses, she couldn’t even remember any displays of affection. And though Bobby had always been a skillful and attentive lover, his touch lacked that elemental fire she craved. She’d only experienced that once. Twice, if you counted the dream.

  That’s all it was, though. Just a dream, she chastised herself.

  Except…

  Except that she had seen, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted Alejandro in her dream. Her response to him was real. Her sensitive nether regions told her that she had definitely experienced a powerful orgasm, even if she had been asleep when it happened. And it was the only orgasm she’d had in God knew how long.

  That’s not the only orgasm you’ll ever have, she told herself. Don’t be such a slut. You can give yourself a good orgasm, but you can’t base a life around sex. But you couldn’t base a life around empty social engagements, either, and somehow she’d managed to fall into a life of just that.

  She had to see Alejandro, just to get this craving out of her system. He was still good-looking (okay, fucking hot) but she convinced herself that’s all it was. Besides, she didn’t even know where to find him. She knew his father still owned the garage, and if Alejandro wasn’t there maybe someone would remember her and tell her where he might be. He wouldn’t possibly have the same number, not after ten years. Where did he even call home these days? She had no idea.

  She reached for her phone and texted Cristina. I saw him.

  Oh, Ali, came the immediate reply.

  I was a total B. Have to apologize. Where can I find him?

  Mami, don’t do it.

  I’ll go to the garage if I have to.

  There was a pregnant pause and she paced as she waited for the telltale chirp. Finally, it came. Just an address, but that was good enough for her. 787 Triola Drive. She knew exactly where that was.

  You can do this, she convinced herself. It’s ten years later, you’ve got nothing to lose, and men that good-looking don’t grow on trees. He’s an old friend who will boost your ego and get you out of this breakup funk. What do you have to lose?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tiparillo’s soft whinny alerted Ali to a presence approaching the barn. She hadn’t heard a car pull in, but Tip’s ears swiveled in the direction of footsteps on the gravel. The steady crunching was followed by a calm male voice, and the back of her neck prickled as she realized her visitor was Alejandro. I’m not ready to see him yet, she panicked. I was supposed to track him down, not the other way around.

  She poked her head from the barn in time to see man and horse greet one another over the fence. Tip rubbed his nose along the length of Alejandro’s forearm, nudging toward his pocket. An almost boyish smile flitted across Alejandro’s face as he pulled out the hidden apple. With a delighted nicker, Tip plucked it neatly from his fingers.

  “He remembers you.”

  Alejandro stroked Tip’s dark forelock and rubbed his fingers down the white blaze on the horse’s nose. “It seems like it, yeah. I didn’t know if he would, but I brought him a treat just in case.” He turned his velvet gaze on her then, still stroking Tip. “How are you, Ali?”

  His deep, measured voice was the same, but everything else was different. Studying him up close she realized how much he’d changed. Ali watched him stroke Tip, his powerful forearms flexing. The wiry body of his youth had been engulfed by the broad, muscular frame and he’d grown a few inches since their senior year. They once embraced cheek to cheek, but she realized that this Alejandro could easily tuck her under his chin. He was harder somehow, too. The formerly sweet, boyish face was angular now, almost fierce in its masculine beauty. A dark beard coated his jaw and wound around sensual lips, and the long eyelashes that had once seemed too beautiful to waste on a boy fringed smoldering velvet eyes. Her gaze met his, but it was a moment before she could speak.

  Finally she gathered her wits. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Did you enjoy your wine?”

  She was momentarily puzzled. The Valero. “It hit the spot that afternoon, let me tell you.”

  “We were both pretty taken by surprise, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say.”

  “I planned to come and see you.”

  She was silent.

  “Listen, you don’t owe me anything, but I’d like to talk to you. It’s your call. If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, then I’ll leave right now and never bother you again.”

  You’re pretty good at that, said the bitter voice in her head, but she shoved it down and took a deep breath. She shrugged. “Go ahead. Talk. Better yet, walk and talk. I’m going in for some lunch. You want some?”

  He rubbed his stomach and shook his head. “No, thanks. I just came from Cristina’s. She feeds me well enough.”

  “Some tea, then?”

  “That'd be nice.”

  ***

  On the back porch, Ali filled two glasses and tried to calm her nerves. It didn’t help that she was soaked with sweat and smelled like the barn. She’d wanted to be primped and perfect for their next encounter, really show him what he’d missed out on. It was stupid, but she wanted him to want her, even just a little bit. Especially after last night’s dream.

  But he wasn’t even flirting. So far they’d discussed the weather, his parents, and his cousin’s new baby, all while taking very polite sips of tea. Maybe she’d misread the look in his eyes when he’d seen at her at the gas station, all blazing heat and animal need.

  “Cristina tells me the riding program is doing really well.”

  “Yeah, it’s been pretty successful. The big thing was getting the right people to back it, because transportation is a pretty expensive issue. And insurance. But it’s coming along. I’m still teaching a few private students here, but I’m not sure for how much longer.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’m going to sell the ranch.”

  “But you love this place.” He seemed genuinely surprised, his eyebrows knitting together with concern. “You told me you’d never leave it.”

  Her throat tightened. “Yeah, well, things change. People say things they mean at the time, and then…” Shit! She hadn’t meant to say that. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

  “Ali.”

  She looked away and willed herself to silence.

  “Ali, I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did hurt me. I waited… and then I came home to find you gone…” Her breath caught as the memory of that pain swept through her.

  “Cristina told me. And she gave me hell for it, too. She’s still giving me hell for it.”

  “Good,” she flared.

  “But you’re happy now, right? I saw the announcement. Cristina says he’s a good guy.”

  She paused for a minute. Do I tell him? She decided against it. “He is a good guy.”

  “And you’re happy?” he pressed. “You must be excited, planning your wedding and all that. Your mom must be thrilled.”

  She detected the trace of bitterness in his last words. Her mother’s opinion of Alejandro had been no secret, especially not to him. She’d barely acknowledged his presence, preferring to pretend that Alejandro didn’t really exist in Ali’s life. Ali had fought tooth and nail with her mama that summer. They’d damn near killed each other.

  “Mama’s is over the moon, of course.”

  “You still haven’t told me if you’re happy, Ali.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t help challenging him.

  “I want you to be happy.”

  She took a deep breath. “Bobby’s great, but his job is going to be the death of him. I’m supposed to get married in two and a half months and I feel like a steer going to the slaughter since half of Texas will be there. I’m supposed to sell this ranch… Take Tip away from everything he’s ever known… Maybe abandon the program…” She shook her head. “Am I happy? Not really, not at the moment. But, you know…” She waved her hand and ignore
d the clench in her gut that she got every time she contemplated her future. “It’s all going to be fine, really.”

  “You don’t sound very convinced.”

  “What about you?” she countered quickly. “Are you happy? Is the outlaw life all you though it would be?”

  “It’s exactly like I thought it would be. The club is great and the work is what it is…” He shrugged. “I do well for myself. Better than I would have with a useless literature degree.”

  Her throat tightened. “You could have been anything you wanted to be. You could still do anything. Don’t sell yourself short, Alejandro.”

  A forced smile wiped the shadow of pain from his face. “Things worked out just as they were supposed to. I’m good.”