by S. Nelson
He didn’t say anything at first, instead taking his time studying me in turn. His scrutiny put me on alert, and I swore if he didn’t say something in the next few seconds, I was going to jump over the table and attack that perfect mouth of his.
“Ready to eat?”
Yeah, not what I’d expected him to say, even though the food he’d cooked sat directly in front of us.
Nodding, I picked up my fork and cut into the steaming dish. Funny thing was I’d suddenly lost my appetite, my nerves making me semi-nauseous. But I didn’t want him to realize how uncomfortable I’d suddenly become so I started eating, appreciating how tasty the meal was.
I smiled between mouthfuls.
“I hope you like it. It’s the best thing I can make.” He laughed, the tiny dimple in his left cheek appearing.
I gave a simple nod.
Jagger looked like someone people should be afraid of, his tough exterior the first thing everyone saw. But when he smiled, I saw the guy underneath. When he’d made love to me, I’d felt his gentleness. When he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, I saw his vulnerability.
Too bad I couldn’t claim him as mine anymore.
Just a friend.
But I’d take what I could for the time being, until it became too much and I became tired of torturing myself.
After dinner we retired to the sofa. I kicked off my shoes and tucked my legs underneath me, sitting far enough away from him that we wouldn’t accidentally touch. I needed the distance, craved it for my sanity to remain intact.
Awkward moments passed until I couldn’t take it anymore. So what now? I signed. How does this friend thing work? I smiled but I was anything but happy. Nervous was more like it, sitting but a couple feet away from Jagger, trying to appear unaffected, but I was anything but.
Shrugging, he replied, “Not sure. I’ve never been friends before.”
Never?
“Nope.”
Leaning back, I untucked my legs and brought them up toward my chest, resting my hands on my knees. We’ll figure it out together, then.
“Okay.” He smiled and reached out to touch me, his fingers briefly running up and down my arm. Pulling back, he settled into his seat again, his eyes drifting over my face before focusing on the television. I’d flicked it on before we’d sat down.
“Hey, my club’s having a cookout this Saturday. Do you wanna go? And before you say no, I think Ryder invited Braylen, so at least you’ll know a few people.” He grinned, lifting his glass of water to his mouth. I watched him swallow the cold liquid, and I wanted more than anything to lick the droplets of water off his lips. “Kena? Did you hear me?”
Startled, I looked away, but not before I heard him chuckle.
I don’t know, I answered, still avoiding his face while literally twiddling my thumbs.
The cushion next to me dipped, and when I looked up, Jagger had moved closer, our thighs brushing against one another’s.
What are you doing?
He moved closer, cupping the side of my face, and even though I fought it, I leaned in to his touch.
“I don’t know,” he confessed, his lips only inches from mine, his warm breath tickling my mouth. So badly I wanted him to kiss me, and I think he wanted that as well, but we were toying with very dangerous territory.
With my hands pressed against his chest, my fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt for a brief moment, I pushed him back. I needed the distance. I could barely breathe, his closeness suffocating me in some strange way.
Don’t.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
I hadn’t meant to ask him, but I couldn’t help myself. Why did you break up with me? Why throw away what we had only to settle for this? I asked, waving my hand back and forth between us.
Irritation lit up his face as he rose to his feet. “Do you think I wanted to let you go? Do you think I like feeling like my heart is missing from my chest? I had no choice,” he mumbled, gripping the back of his neck and squeezing. “It’s not safe for you to be with me right now, Kena. There are things happening in my life that I can’t get into. Just know I would be with you if I could. Maybe in the future, after everything gets sorted out . . . but not until then.”
Rising to stand in front of him, I let my anger take hold and dictate which words my hands would form. So, what? You’re gonna string me along, keep me in the shadows until you deem it time for us to be together again?
“It’s not like that.”
I think it is.
“Kena, please,” he begged, stepping closer, but I backed up, knowing if he touched me I’d break. “I swear I wish it were different. I really do. We’re trying to deal with the threat, and then we’ll be good.”
He spoke in code, not making any sense at all. I don’t know if I can hang on until then, I confessed.
Completely disregarding my last statement, a pretty important one, he proceeded to ask me the question he’d asked minutes earlier.
“Will you go to the cookout with me on Saturday?”
You just said I wasn’t safe with you, I countered.
“There’s no safer place than the clubhouse. All of us will be there.” He didn’t elaborate or even fully explain what the hell he’d been rambling about seconds prior. His back and forth made me dizzy, and before I said something I would forever regret, I gave him an inch.
No doubt he’d find a way to take a mile, though.
I’ll think about it.
For once, he was the one nodding, words escaping him for a response. Soon after, we called it a night, him kissing my cheek before finally leaving.
As I lay in bed, tucked comfortably under the covers, I couldn’t help but wonder where I stood in Jagger’s world. Would fate allow us to be together again soon, or would her sometimes cruel hands tear us apart for good?
Jagger
It took everything in me not to pin her on her back and attack that luscious mouth of hers, but I knew if I had, I would have hurt her more than she already was. But there were times, like when I was sitting right next to her, inhaling her sweet scent, entranced with the way she stared at me, that I wanted to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Fuck the consequences.
Fortunately, the next day, after some much-needed prodding, Kena agreed to go to the cookout. I tried to pretend I was the sole reason she’d agreed, but I knew Braylen had a hand in it.
After our mini argument, I knew I had to back off a bit and give her the space she needed. It was just as hard for me as it was for her, dealing with our relationship, whatever status we were in.
Jagger: What are you wearing?
Kena: Are you trying to get cute with me?
Her slight flirtation shocked me, but I loved it. It meant she was on the slow road back to forgiving me.
Jagger: Damnit! You caught me.
Kena: Nice try, but I’m not telling you. You’ll just have to see for yourself.
Jagger: Seriously, asking because I need to know whether I should bring my bike or truck.
Kena: Oh . . . Truck.
Jagger: See you soon.
The party was in full swing by the time we arrived, men and their women socializing as if we weren’t on the cusp of a war. But I understood. Sometimes, we needed to take a step away from it all and enjoy what’s important in life—friends and family. The carefree day only shielded the stress we’d been experiencing, however. And by stress, I mean the daunting horror that any one of us, or someone we cared immensely about, could be snatched away in a heartbeat.
Willing myself to focus on the happiness playing out right in front of me, I reached for Kena’s hand, surprised she’d given it, and strolled across the lot. A small clearing came into view the further we walked, a couple large tents pitched with picnic tables underneath.
The smell of steak and burgers made my stomach rumble, reminding me I hadn’t eaten very much. “Do you want me to fix you a plate?” I asked, still gripping tightly to her hand. My
eyes drifted over her face, down her body to her feet, and then back up until our eyes connected. I hadn’t meant to do it, but I couldn’t help the way she made me just want to stare at her. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her face makeup-less but for a sheer sheen on her lips. It was under the bright sun that I noticed a splattering of freckles across her nose, making her appear younger than her twenty-one years.
The way her body looked in the outfit she’d chosen made me want to hide her from every brother’s sight. The red tank top she wore fit her like a glove, a hint of cleavage popping out and making me want to strip her naked just so I could caress her skin with my tongue. And don’t get me started on her shorts. Yes, they were modest, not hot pants or coochie cutters or shit like that, but the cut of them hugged her ass and made her toned legs look longer than they actually were. A pair of flip-flops adorned her feet. Her required casualness for the cookout was a win, although she looked sexy as hell to boot.
Tugging on my hand, I turned to look at her, wondering why she wanted to escape. She did it again. “You don’t want to hold my hand?” I asked innocently, though a slight tremor of hurt mixed in with the words.
Again she tried to pull away, the annoyance on her face quite telling. As soon as I let go, I found out why she’d been trying to dislodge her hand from mine.
How easily you forget I need my hands to answer.
Quirking up the side of my mouth, I apologized. “Sorry.”
She smiled and my heart leapt inside my chest. You just wanna show all the other guys that I’m off-limits. As soon as she lowered her hands she looked away, instantly regretting her response.
Hooking my fingers under her chin, I lifted her head so she would look at me. “Yes, that’s partly the reason, but more than that, I love touching you.”
Gone were any traces of playfulness. You can’t say things like that to me. I’m really trying to give this friendship thing a chance, but when you look at me like that, and tell me you love touching me, and admit that you’re warning other guys to essentially stay away from me, it confuses me. And quite frankly, it hurts.
I reached for her arm but she quickly walked ahead, spotting her sister and Ryder sitting under one of the tents. Tentatively walking up behind her, I placed my hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear, Braylen glaring at me the entire time.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Again.” Inhaling her vanilla scented skin, I kissed her temple and rose back up to my full height. “I’m gonna grab some food. I’ll surprise you.” Trying to make light of a tense situation, I headed over to where Cutter was manning the grill.
Call me the master of mixed signals, but I simply couldn’t help it. I was conflicted, so I had no doubt Kena’s warring emotions matched my own.
“Who the hotties sittin’ with Ryder? And what the fuck do they see in that grumpy bastard?” Cutter asked, flipping a couple of the steaks before tending to the dogs and burgers.
Cutter was a strange sort of guy. And by strange, I meant I could never get a good read on him. He mostly kept to himself, often called upon for his skills with disposing of people. I’d heard about it with Vex, and I’d seen it firsthand with Yanez. I wouldn’t go as far as calling him creepy, per se, because he only did what was necessary, but I sure as shit wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his “attention.”
His son, Breck, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. They barely shared the same features, let alone a similar personality. I liked Breck just fine, most times. Other times, he was lucky I hadn’t knocked him out, his cockiness getting the better of him. Especially when he was three sheets to the wind. Besides, I was a prospect; I couldn’t touch a full patched member unless I was defending myself, which thankfully had never been the issue with him. Or any of the other brothers.
Slapping some cheese on two of the burgers, I stood back when Cutter gave me an annoyed look. “The blonde, Braylen, is sort of dating Ryder, and the gorgeous creature next to her is mine.” I hadn’t meant to claim her so possessively, but I had no doubt a few of these guys would make a play for her if they thought she was single.
Technically she is single, dumbass.
Shaking the absurd yet poignant thought from my head, I reached for one of the hotdogs and got my hand slapped with the spatula. “Fuck, that hurt,” I groaned, giving him a death glare, one he returned ten-fold.
“Don’t touch the food while I’m cooking, prospect.” Raising his bottle of beer, he took a few gulps before placing it down on the side of the grill, its own perfect little holder grooved into the cut of the steel appliance. “I didn’t know ya had a woman,” he grunted, never once turning to look at me.
“Yeah, although . . . Yeah, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated? You postin’ some fucked-up status on Facebook or somethin’?”
“What the hell do you know about social media, old man?” I laughed, still keeping watch over Kena out of the corner of my eye.
“I know enough. And if I were you, I’d un-complicate that shit. Otherwise, my son is gonna have her on her back before you know it.” His words cut right to the heart of me. Sure enough, when I turned fully around to face the three of them—or should I say four of them—I saw Breck sitting across from Kena, laughing at something Ryder said but keeping his eye on my woman. Where the hell had he come from?
“How the hell did you see him? Your nose is in the goddamn grill.”
“I don’t miss shit,” he said, tossing some food on a plate and shoving it toward me. “Here. Now go away.”
Swiftly walking toward the table, my adrenaline fueling the anger coursing through me, I stopped right next to Kena and set the plate in front of her. I’d meant to grab some sides and drinks, but no way would I allow Breck any more time in her presence without realizing she wasn’t available.
Single or fucking not, Kena was taken.
She was mine.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I glared at the guy brazen enough to try and grab her attention, staking my claim like some sort of animal. “Here you go, babe,” I said, talking to her but keeping my eye on Cutter’s son.
“What’s up, prospect? Can we help you?” Breck laughed, the lilt of his tone indicating he was well on his way to feelin’ good. No doubt he’d started drinking hours before.
“Yeah, you can stop hittin’ on my woman,” I said with a controlled tone. All I wanted to do was reach across the table and knock him on his ass, but I refrained. Sliding into the seat next to Kena, I threw my arm over her shoulder and pulled her close, scowling at Breck the entire time. I knew my behavior was less than stellar, but I was powerless against the surge of testosterone rapidly flowing through my veins.
“No way this fine piece is yours,” he countered, pissing me off even more. Before I could respond, Kena elbowed me in the side, dislodging my arm from around her. Turning toward me, her face scrunched in annoyance. Bringing up her hands, she signed so fast I almost missed a few of the words.
Your woman? Why are you all of a sudden being so possessive? Are you trying to show off or something, because I don’t like it.
Trying to figure out an apology, I was caught off guard when Breck opened his mouth.
“Holy fuck! You got you a woman who can’t talk?” Slapping the table, he continued his drunken rambling. “You lucky sonofabitch. How awesome is that? You don’t have to hear her yapping all the time, naggin’ you and shit.”
I hopped to my feet and reached over the table, but Ryder had already beat me to him, grabbing Breck in a choke hold and lifting him from his seat so quickly he stumbled backward. He slurred his words while trying to figure out why Ryder had attacked him. And while a few of the other guys turned their attention toward us, none of them approached, realizing that Breck had probably deserved whatever was coming his way.
And he did. Without a doubt. The rule about a prospect not putting his hands on a full patched member unless it was in self-defense? That went right out the fuckin’
window as soon as he said what he did about Kena. Surely Marek would have pardoned my actions, had I been the one to teach Breck a lesson.
I’d been so amped up with attacking him I’d failed to see how Kena had been faring from his heartless comments. When I sat back down, I turned my body toward hers but she moved away. It was only by an inch or so, but I hated any distance between us.
I’m so sorry about what he said. I’d decided to sign, hoping it would somehow alleviate whatever embarrassment or anger she’d been feeling right then. She shrugged as if she hadn’t been affected, but when a tear danced down her flushed cheek, I knew she was upset. And I didn’t blame her. Not one fucking bit. Hastily wiping away a few more tears, she rose from her seat and started walking away from the table.
“Where are you going?” I jogged up next to her and tried to take her hand but she pulled it back, continuing to walk ahead of me. “Kena!” I shouted. “Where are you going?”
She turned around, signed, To the bathroom, and continued on her way. I kept my distance but there was no way in hell I was gonna leave her alone, especially when she had no idea where she was going.
Kena
Embarrassment coursed down my face the further I walked away from the whole scene. I heard Jagger’s steps behind me, but I knew if I turned around I’d start sobbing uncontrollably, seeking comfort in the arms of someone who may or may not want me.
Coming across the first building I saw, I turned the handle and entered, the wide open space shocking me with its sheer size. A few couches littered the area, with single leather seating spread throughout. A large bar occupied the entire back wall, an area I was sure got a lot of use. There were a few closed doors, so I walked to the nearest one. My fingers curled around the knob, but before I could turn it, Jagger’s hand covered mine.
“Oh no, sweetheart, you can’t go in there,” he warned, a softness to his voice abating his command not to enter.
Withdrawing from his touch, I asked, Why? What’s in there?