Giving It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs)

by Kati Wilde

  A tingle of excitement grows in my chest. I grab my coat and head for the garage. My dad kept the Christmas lights above the—

  The ringing of the doorbell shatters the quiet. Oh, shit. I race to the front door, stopping just long enough to glance through the peephole—Frank Carlisle, shit, shit—and see his hand rising as if he’s about to knock.

  I pull the door open but don’t move out of the doorway. “Frank.”

  “Jenny.” He looks relieved to see that it’s me. I don’t blame him. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too.” I look beyond him, where a truck sits in the driveway next to mine, its headlights off but the dome light on. Whoever’s inside doesn’t seem to care what’s going on in my doorway. The way he’s frowning down at his lighted screen, I guess he’s having difficulty getting a connection. “Just passing through on your way back home?”

  “Maybe.” He looks past my shoulder into the interior of the house before meeting my gaze again. “I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you for a second.”

  I’ve got a feeling that even if I say no, he’s going to eventually talk his way inside, anyway. “For a minute,” I agree, stepping back. I hold up my coat as if I was headed somewhere other than my chilly garage. “But I’m afraid I can’t be long.”

  “It won’t take long.” He limps his way inside on his crutch and leg brace. As I shut the door, he removes his stocking cap and regards me with serious eyes. “I wanted to apologize to you, Jenny. I understand that using your phone created some problems for you, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “I appreciate that.”

  He offers an abashed smile. “I just figured, you know, that if I won big on that game, I could get myself out of that mess I was in. I didn’t imagine it’d just pull me in deeper.”

  Was this an apology or an excuse? Does he expect me to say it’s fine? Because it’s not.

  So I wait, watching his gaze dart to the great room and linger on the big fireplace.

  “It’s a nice place you got here. But no Christmas tree? No stockings?”

  I’m not going to explain myself. “Not this year.”

  “Because it wasn’t long ago you lost your dad, isn’t that right? Must be hard to feel festive.”

  My spine goes rigid. “Sometimes.”

  He nods again, then draws a deep breath. “I know I messed up with that phone call, Jenny, but I was wondering… You know what it’s like not to have your dad around—and Saxon’s had a father missing his whole life. Maybe I could change that now, if he gives me a chance. And I think he’d listen if you put in a word for me.”

  Frank Carlisle hasn’t earned a word from me. And does he think reminding me of my grief will engage my sympathies?

  Instead it’s just pissing me off, and I’m struggling to think of a polite way to get him out of here when politeness goes flying out the window.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Expression thunderous, Saxon strides in through the great room wearing nothing but his sweatpants. His eyes sweep me from head to toe, as if making sure I’m all right, before his furious gaze shoots back to his dad.

  “Hold up, son.” Carlisle lifts his hands. “I’m just talking to your girl and appealing to the spirit of the season.”

  As if protecting me from the sight of his father, Saxon grabs my hand and draws me around behind him. “You think I don’t know what you’re appealing to? Maybe asking her if she’ll give up her house to me.”

  With a tight little laugh, Carlisle shakes his head. “I’m just looking out for you. I’ve been gone, I know that. So now I’m just trying to do what a father should.”

  “Then walk out that goddamn door. Right now.”

  A flush rises over the older man’s cheeks. “That girl owes you five years of your life. I just want to see my son get what he deserves.”

  Every muscle in Saxon’s powerful body tenses. His voice deepens, suddenly quiet. Cold. “You look at her again, and you’ll get what you deserve. So get the hell out. And don’t you fucking come back.”

  His fingers linked with mine, Saxon pulls me forward with him. He throws open the door and stands, waiting. Carlisle doesn’t move to leave but just looks at him.

  “So this is who your mother raised you to be? You’re just going to toss your old man out into the cold?”

  A cruel little smile touches Saxon’s mouth. “I’d really fucking enjoy that. But it looks like you’ve got a ride. So go catch it.”

  Carlisle looks to me. “And this was how you were raised, too? I heard Red was a better man than that.”

  My fingers tighten on Saxon’s, stopping him when he growls and steps forward, as if intending to beat the shit out of his old man.

  “You’re absolutely right, Frank,” I tell him. “This isn’t how I was raised. The way my dad raised me, if someone won’t leave when asked, I’m supposed to go grab the shotgun. So maybe you ought to go, because I really don’t want to shoot anyone on Christmas Eve.”

  His jaw tight, Carlisle glances from my face to Saxon’s. As if finally realizing he’s not ever getting anywhere, he gives a tight nod. “All right, then.”

  Saxon and I are silent as he crutches his way past us. Carlisle barely steps onto the porch before Saxon slams the heavy oak door behind him, hard enough the solid frame shivers under the impact.

  “Goddamn fuck!” he grinds out, then turns to me, his expression gentling. His big hands capture my cheeks, his dark gaze searching mine. “You all right?”

  Pretty good, considering. “Your dad’s a dick.”

  “Yes, he is.” His thumbs slip over my cheekbones in a gentle caress. “I’m sorry he brought Red into it.”

  “Me, too. But the whole shotgun bit was pretty awesome, wasn’t it?”

  Saxon doesn’t smile, but continues watching my face…as if waiting for something.

  I catch his wrists. “What’s going on?”

  His voice roughens. “I don’t like knowing he hurt you.”

  “But he didn’t.” I stare up at him, and abruptly recognize the tender way he’s looking at me, holding me. As if waiting for me to break down and cry.

  And that makes me want to cry.

  Abruptly I pull away from him. “I’m okay. Really.”

  His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists. Raw torment lines his face as he says hoarsely, “I don’t know what the fuck to do, Jenny. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. The other morning. Now. I know you’re hurting, and I don’t want to—”

  “I am hurting!” My voice is tight, my throat burning. “But I’ve hurt before, and I survived. My mom died, and I survived. Reichmann hurt me, and I survived. You went to prison, and I survived. My dad died, and I will survive.” My breath hitches. “But what I won’t survive is you building a wall out of my grief!”

  “I built the wall?” He throws his arms wide, his expression a mask of disbelief. “I didn’t build any fucking wall. If there’s any wall, it’s built out of your hurt—and I don’t want to hurt you more by smashing through it!”

  “Oh, God, Saxon.” Understanding wipes the fight from me. Shaking my head, I let out a shuddering sigh. “My grief isn’t a wall for me. It’s something I carry. And sometimes I let that burden down, or forget how heavy it is. And one day, maybe it won’t weigh so much, or maybe I’ll build up more strength so carrying it becomes easier.” I hold his gaze with mine. “But when you keep that hurt between us, because you’re afraid I’ll break if you’re too rough or too hard—then it’s a wall that I can’t climb. Not while carrying this weight, too.”

  “All right, princess. All right.” He moves closer and his long fingers slide into my hair, tipping my head up until I meet his eyes. His gaze is gentle as it searches my face. “I get it. And I know I can’t carry this hurt for you, Jenny. But when you need me to, I’ll carry you and the hurt. All right?”

  My eyes burn with tears. “Yes. Although I don’t like bein
g a burden.”

  Saxon huffs out a short laugh. “I know that about you, Jenny. But I love carrying you.”

  “Because I’m your princess? The girl who’s always needing rescue?” I say it lightly, but there’s hurt there, too. I love it when he calls me his princess. But lately it’s felt like another way of saying I need to be coddled.

  “Jenny.” It’s a soft reprimand. “You notice I don’t use my father’s name? Even though it’s right there on my birth certificate and my parents were married. But when my mother went back to using Gray, I did, too.”

  “But—”

  “Now think of who raised me. Cancer got her in the end, but before that, my mom never stopped fighting. She got knocked down again and again, but she kept on surviving. And we didn’t have much, but as far as I was concerned, she was a queen who deserved so much better.” His long fingers skim across my trembling lips. “You’re much like her. So strong and so damn smart. And when I say you’re a princess, it’s because you’re the girl who deserves so much better than me. You’re also the girl I’d fight dragons for. You’re the girl I’d die to kiss just once. And you’re the girl I’m afraid will wake up and see I’m no fucking prince.”

  “I know that.” I can barely speak past the ache in my throat. “I’ve always known that. But I love the man you are.”

  “And you made me that man.”

  I shake my head. “No—”

  “You listen.” His hands tighten, stopping my denial. “You made me that man. I should have been that man before, should have been how my mom raised me to be, but back in those days all I could see how I was nothing. Just a coked-up asshole who couldn’t even lift his mom out of the hole my father threw her into. But seeing you in that courtroom, Jenny, seeing how you were so fucking brave…” His throat works as he looks down at me. “Carlisle talks like those were five years wasted, but it was in prison when I became the man I needed to be. I educated myself, got my shit together. And when I got out, those few years with my mom still alive, she looked at me with so much pride, Jenny. And it’s all because you looked at me in that courtroom like I was worth something. But I’m nothing without you.”

  “Saxon—” My tears spill over and I desperately try to stop them. “Shit. After I just tried to convince you I’m not all weepy and don’t break so easy.”

  His laugh is low and deep, his lips warm as he kisses the tears from my wet cheeks. “Then I’ve got no choice but to take you upstairs, Jenny. To put you in that bed and treat you like a princess.”

  I sniffle and laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “What did you treat me like the other night?”

  “Like a woman who could take me.” He sweeps me up against his chest. “But I gotta tell you, princess—that means the same damn thing.”

  I cling to him, smiling against his shoulder as he carries me up the stairs. Halfway up I remember—“Before your dad showed up, I was thinking we should do a little something for the holiday. Like your mom said.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” His voice rough, his strong arms tighten around me. “But we’ll do it in the morning. Right now, I’m going to start the Christmas Eve tradition of licking your pussy until you scream.”

  That sounds almost perfect—but much too far away. “Why not the Christmas Eve tradition of fucking me on the stairs?”

  Abruptly Saxon stops, letting my feet swing to the step above his. Anticipation rockets through me as his head lowers and he presses closer, mouth hovering just above my lips, his thick cock wedged between my thighs. “I think we’re going to have a lot of traditions, Jenny.”

  I think so, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Saxon

  I feel like some little kid as I kiss Jenny awake. She sighs and her lips soften, then yelps and jolts up to sitting when the ice of my freezing hands and cold cheeks sinks through her sleep-warmed skin.

  “Saxon?” Sleepily she blinks up at me, so fucking sexy with her long rumpled hair and heavy eyes. She clutches the sheet to her chest and takes in the coat and hat I’m wearing. “Were you outside?”

  “I was.”

  And because I’m as impatient as a little kid but a hell of a lot bigger than one, I scoop her up, sheet and all. She shrieks and laughs, desperately pulling up the bed sheet’s trailing end before we hit the stairs. Clinging to me, she’s still giggling wildly as I carry her into the kitchen.

  Her giggles abruptly stop. Her mouth open, she stares at the tiny tree standing in front of the brick fireplace.

  Not even a tree. Shit, the truth is, I was hoping to find a seedling, but the snow out there’s too fucking deep. So I settled for hacking off part of a pine branch and sticking it into a pot. Then I found a red ribbon and tied it around the top.

  The ribbon’s almost bigger than the tree.

  She turns to me with a tearful smile. “Oh, Saxon.”

  “Christ, Jenny.” I grin and carry her over to the breakfast nook, where I set her ass down on the wooden table. “Only you would cry over that twig.”

  That makes her laugh, and that’s good. Because she might really be crying soon.

  I cup her cheek in my cold hand. “Now, listen. That tree is tiny and not even worth the name. But maybe it had a rough start. Kind of like you had a rough year. But next year, we’re going to pick out a twig that’s a little bigger, a little stronger. And the year after that, one that’s even a little bigger. I figure by the time we’ve got kids running around, we’ll have a sturdy little tree to put some lights on. And by the time their kids are running around, we’ll have one big enough to reach the ceiling in the great room. All right?”

  She nods, her green eyes huge and glistening. “All right.”

  It’s just a whisper, like her throat is clogged up. And, fuck me. Mine’s lumping up, too. I reach into my coat pocket. She goes utterly still when I pull out the ring box.

  “Now, listen. This isn’t from me. You said not to get you anything and I didn’t.” My hand’s shaking when I open it up, and there she goes, her breath catching on a ragged sob. “Red gave this to me and he said to give it to you when the time was right. ”

  “Saxon.” Her tears are streaming now. Her trembling fingers touch the gold band. “That’s my mother’s wedding ring.”

  “I know it is. And you must know what I would have asked if I’d given it to you later. You must know why your dad gave it to me. But I didn’t want to hurt you, or rush you. This soon after Red…it’s not right.”

  She’s silent, her tears dripping down her cheeks as she lifts the band from its velvet cushion. Her fingertips trace the inscription inside the band, almost worn away: Always.

  My voice is a thick rasp as I say quietly, “But this is the right thing to give you now, I think. So you have something of both of them today. Something that’s from them. And you can put it on a necklace and wear it that way, or put it on whichever finger you like. In my heart, Jenny, I’ve already married you. So you can put it on your left hand and hold its place until we make that official. Or you can put it on your other hand—”

  And I choke up completely when she slips the band onto her left ring finger. Because I can’t talk, I kiss her, tasting the salt of her tears and the heat of her mouth.

  When I pull back, she’s still crying, but they’re soft and happy tears, glistening through her beautiful smile.

  Cupping her face in my hands, I tell her, “Now, you didn’t want any gifts from me. And I’m not giving you anything you can hold. I’m not giving you anything you didn’t already have from me yesterday, or the day before. And that’s this promise: I’m never leaving. I’ll marry you tomorrow or I’ll wait forever, it doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m here until the end. Forever and always. All right?”

  “All right.” Nodding, she wraps her arms around me and releases a long, shuddering breath against my neck. “This was exactly the right thing, Saxon.”

  Good. And, hell—maybe this isn’t the right thing, but she’s soft and sexy and almost na
ked against me, and when I kiss her again she tastes so damn sweet. Then she moans low in her throat and she’s got a ring on her finger, and I need to make her mine, only mine. My fingers slide beneath the sheet, and she’s so fucking hot and wet, I lose my goddamn mind. She cries out my name as I push my cock into her scalding heat. I’m rough but she takes every hard thrust, her fingernails digging into my shoulders and begging for more. I give her more, and more, give her everything, until her pussy’s clenching around me and I’m coming deep.

  And I don’t even think of saying ‘sorry’ for being so hard and rough when I collapse over her. Instead I just try to catch my breath as her legs wrap me up tight.

  After a long while, I lever myself up off the table, taking her with me. She looks up into my eyes, her teeth worrying her lip.

  “Now, you stop that,” I tell her.

  Her eyebrows go up. “Stop what?”

  “I know you, Jenny. Even though this ring didn’t come from me, you’re feeling guilty for not getting me anything.”

  A laugh slips from her that she quickly stops, sealing her pretty lips together. She stares up at me for a long second, her green eyes sparkling, then says, “Oh, Saxon. You know me better than that.”

  Shit. I do know her better than that. “You’ve got a present stashed away in a closet, don’t you?”

  “I never do anything last minute,” she says with a laugh. “I started buying them in July.”

  “Them?”

  She nods.

  “Well, save them all for next year, then.” Because I’m probably going to need a whole damn year to catch up.

  Smiling, she rises up and kisses me. “This year, I’ll just give you the same promise that you gave me. I’m yours, Saxon. Always.”

  “Always, princess,” I tell her.

  And that might almost be long enough.

  Bonus Content - Before BREAKING IT ALL

  Hello, book lovers! Kati here, with a quick explanation of the following content. Zach “Gunner” Cooper and Anna Wall’s story, Breaking It All, became much longer (and much later!) than I anticipated. The plot I envisioned also underwent a fundamental change, so part of the way through writing the book, I decided to toss all of the scenes that originally opened the story—the chapter where Gunner and Anna meet, along with their earliest interactions.