Simply Sinful: Lost Angels MC, page 2
I watch in horrified fascination as he gets off his bike. When I last saw him, he had been a boy, the man that stands in front of me now has grown in more than just height. There are muscles peeking out from the outline of his well-worn grey shirt, his arms bare, veins run from the edges of the sleeves of the shirt down into his hands. They carve a map that I wanted to trace my fingers across. One thing that hasn't changed, is the perfection of his face. Of course, his face shows the signs of getting older, it’s been years, yet it is still too perfect. Though when he steps closer, I can tell that's not even the case any longer, someone broke his nose a time or too, but somehow...I like it more that he's no longer the perfect boy I believed him to be. There's no illusion, yet now he's by far more alluring.
“Emmaline.” He's never called me by my full name, no one really does anymore, not after Mom. I'm almost too distracted by this to notice how raspy rich his voice is. I know for sure he didn't have that timbre back then. If he did...I stop my thoughts in their tracks.
He's now on the outskirts of my bubble, then pops it without thought. He's so close I can feel his warm breath moving my hair from my forehead. Tilting my head up a fraction something catches my eye.
I wish I could say that I didn't know what came over me, that I didn't have control over my limbs, but I want to touch him. Almost to be sure he isn’t a figment of my imagination. My fingers glide across his sharp jaw, his skin so soft and warm. He closes his eyes and makes a noise I can't place. It's somewhere trapped between pleasure and pain, much for how it was for me to allow myself this touch. It makes me pause, but as the sound dissipates, I know even if he had continued to make it, I wouldn’t have stopped. Not when my excuse, if ever questioned for my touch was within reach. With reluctance I pluck the paper from his chin and my fingers come away from his skin.
Letting the paper hang between us, so that when he opens his eyes, he watches with me, as it falls to the ground between our feet.
This time I take one hundred percent responsibility for my actions. The smack across his face rings loud in my ears, yet my hand felt it the most. Cradling it in my other hand, I watch him slowly face me again and place a hand where my print blooms pink on his cheek. It makes me feel some amount of satisfaction. I should have done that years ago.
With that I promptly give him my back and walk away. By some miracle I make it back into my car before he snaps out of his shock. He eats up the space almost supernaturally quick. Locking my car with a single button his attempt to wrench my car door open is fruitless. It almost makes me want to laugh at how frustrated he becomes with every failed attempt.
“Em, unlock the damn car,” he rattles the handle and it shakes my whole car. My smile can’t be stopped now. I jingle the keys between us through the glass before shoving them in the ignition. He growls, actually growls, and I hate admitting, even to myself, that my toes curl at the gruffly delicious sound. Giving him a small wave, I indulge in a single finger salute as I start to drive out of the lot. For the first few seconds he doesn’t let go, his eyes determined, but then as I hit the gas making the car lurch forward, he lets go with shock written in his features. I don’t waste any more time and peel out of there like a hell hound is chasing me. In a very real way, it is. In my rearview mirror I see him hop smoothly on his bike.
“Son of a…,” I say under my breath.
What had my father been thinking?! Putting us together to work on anything other than to find creative ways of torturing each other is grossly overestimating our abilities. There's no way civility will be factored in. I could have gone the rest of my life not seeing him again. Seeing him brings an ache down deep in my chest, and fresh tears to my eyes, when I thought I didn’t have any more to shed. Through the blur I see him in my rear mirror. Trying to wipe the tears from my eyes I go to the only one with answers.
When I pull up into my father’s drive, I’m thankful his bike's parked out front. It would have pissed me off more if I would have driven through town until I found him to rip him a new asshole. Cole is right behind me as we pull in, eating the space between us like the strongest magnet in the world.
“What was that about?” he shouts though he’s easily inches from me. I ignore him as I make it into the house I grew up in. The door slams behind me, but I’m already around the corner when Marg barges into the living room to find what had made the noise.
“What the hell you doin in my house?” she says, “Trackin filth while you at it.” I let her take him in hand as I search out dad.
He isn’t hard to find. Sitting on the back patio, and by the look on his face, expecting me. “Here I thought you were both adults.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, but fuck you.” He doesn’t look the least bit surprised at my words or how I am reacting. “Him? You thought he would be a good idea? Not that I have enough shit to deal with while I’m here. Could you for once not have felt the need to stir the damn pot while it’s overflowing?!”
“Not my style,” a smile fights to take over his lips.
“Why?” I’m not going anywhere until I had an explanation.
“Don’t you think it’s time for you to move on?”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. He knew too well how much Cole has hurt me, his arms are the same ones that held me when I came home in tears, and now I’m expected to let it all go?
“Regardless he’s X’ed from the club at the moment, and the only true free hand you’ve got to accomplish all that you need to in the short time you need to do it.” There in his eyes sits a gleam of mischief and I know it isn’t the only reason he has forced us together.
“Bullshit, I don’t see you doing anything right now.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Then you’re only seeing what you want to see.”
When I start to look around, my cheeks pinking when I see the three guys standing off to the side, looking awkward at being in the middle of my tirade. When Cole bursts out onto the patio he almost smacks right into me. When he stops himself from the collision, I can tell by the set of his mouth something cutting sits on the tip of his tongue ready to slice. His nose flaring, sweat on his brow, his hair completely disheveled, his finger points too close to my face, mouth hanging open...
“Chancy,” that shuts his mouth as he looks down to see my dad. Chancy? He straightens and faced him, “I thought I said I didn’t want to hear a thing about all this.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Ric looks from me to him. “Nope, so both of you get the fuck out of my house, let me finish my business, and work your shit out...elsewhere.”
Being embarrassed enough, though the argument on my tongue would have loved to see the light, I turn on my heel and instead leave, but I can’t unclench my fists. The anger and frustration still steaming up inside me waiting to spew out, the worst part by far is the confusion of the whole thing. Even the fact my father may be right about us acting like children, he is the one responsible for causing the situation in the first place. So when I make it back outside, I wait for Cole to catch up, to end this. After the last few months I need for something to go smoothly.
“Look,” I start when he gets within earshot.
“No, you look. What the hell was that about back there? I haven’t seen you for years but the moment I do you’re treating me as if I’m the one that did something wrong.”
“Are you dense?” I really want to know.
“No, just confused. I want to know what the hell I did in order for you to play the victim.”
Play? I wasn't playing at anything. I try to bring back my composure with a calm breathe. This man makes me so crazy. I do not act like this, yet only minutes in his presence I’m acting certifiable.
“Are you here to help me or not?”
“What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question,” I say.
“Not until you answer mine.”
I stomp my foot, yes, like a child. “If you're here to help, fine, great, dandy even, but the past should stay where it is. In.the.past,” and I hope he can agree with what I'm asking of him.
He rubs his cheek. “Sure as shit doesn't feel like the past.”
Point made, only one thing for it. “I'm sorry for hitting you.”
“I like it rough. What I want to know is why you thought I deserved the treatment.”
“Forget it, this is bullshit,” I walk to my car and once again get in, but not quick enough to close the door behind me. “Let go,” I looked up at him, and the closeness of him hurts. A physical, tangible ache that I suspect will never truly fade despite the exposure. “I don't want to fight anymore,” I say before turning my face from his, not able to take in his confused expression for another second.
“You must be out of practice, because this isn't a fight, it's foreplay.”
“I'm not the girl you remember.” That girl had only ever appeared with him anyways.
I flinch as his hands catch my chin, but he doesn't let go. Soon my face tilts to the side and up until I see the blue of his eyes assessing me again. What do you want from me? I can't muster the will to say it aloud, that would be giving him too much power, and letting myself indulge a fantasy to hear the answer.
“She's in there somewhere,” he looks at me with such intensity that I feel exposed. A fluttering takes off into my chest at how dangerous it feels. When his eyes focus on my lips a hitch forms in my throat. In that moment the danger is real, I want him to take me, make me forget. I want him to rip the moans from my throat until my voice gives out. Use me up and make me feel alive like only he seems capable of. My cheeks grow warm at the little sound that escapes my throat at the thought. His eyes shoot back to mine and no matter the years apart, I know that hungry look in his eyes. I feel myself getting wet, and I feel a part of my resolve shake loose.
Chapter 5
A tapping on the hood of Em's car breaks whatever had eclipsed us, I let go of her chin, straighten, and I look over to see who thought right now would be a good time to interrupt. He isn't looking at me however. “Ric said to tell you dinner will be at six.”
“Can’t you see you’re interrupting,” I shoot at Bear. The man seems impossible to ruffle, and with all this pent-up energy I’m too eager to test it. My frustration at this whole situation ratchets up, but with Marg, Ric, and now Bear pushing my damn buttons, I’m almost at my limit.
Beyond all of that, there’s Em with her contradictions; that first soft touch, then delivering that slap I still feel on my face, rude fingers, a sassy mouth, or making little noises in the back of her throat that I swore I couldn't dream up, to the way she looked at me as if she wanted to eat me. It was enough to drive me to crazy-town by itself.
“Don’t be a jackass,” he grunts, and I let him walk away without saying another thing. He wouldn’t pose any relief in my state anyways.
When I look back down to the source of my never-ending frustration the look of hunger has disappeared. Her mask is back in place, pretending to be once more this controlled unpassionate being. Yeah, I’m not stupid enough to think she hasn’t changed through the years. Unlike Ric’s thinking, I have in fact changed, I’ve grown up in more ways than I wished to. I know how cruel life can be. Em at the time had been the linchpin holding the worst back it seemed, the moment she skipped town it came flowing from the flood gates.
My mom soon after was taken from me by her own hands, with a juiced-up needle, a tourniquet, and a race for the high. Of course, I happened to be the one to find her. No one else visited unless they came to supply her with more toxins to put in her body. If her dealer had been there to watch her take her “medicine” I wish he would have called the cops. That sight will be burned on my retinas forever, and no kid should see their mom like that, despite how useless they’d been with raising you. No one had come out of the woodwork to claim me, my father skipped out of town before my mom fell asleep after the contraceptive broke, so I was shipped to foster home, after foster home until finally I turned eighteen. Two years in the system is enough for any lifetime. When I did, I found my way back to Chilawakee. Found a job working under the table, went and got myself a place to live, then asked to become a member of the Lost Angels, and all along keeping my eye out for her return.
It might sound pathetic, but she had always been the light at the end of the tunnel for me. That fact hasn’t ever changed, not after the countless women in my bed, they couldn’t measure up to the one woman that wandered from my life but not from my head, my soul, my very damned blood stream, and it would never change.
“I’ll help you.” It's what I said I’d do. Though she didn’t have to know yet that I had ulterior motives. I wonder if she can see the determination in my eyes as I take her in, and plan for the outcome I need to become my reality.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide. “You will?”
I nod. “Already promised Ric I would.”
Her face falls a bit before she gives a small smile. “Thanks, we can split the list if you want.”
I hold my hands up. “Even if you gave me a list it's not like I'd know what to do with it. I know nothing about wedding stuff.”
She turns away, rummaging in her purse. “It's not that hard, there's side notes of specific stuff…”
“How about I ride along with you and help make decisions,” I try and reason, but she's already shaking her head.
“Here,” she hands me the list and I realize why it would be pointless to go together. It isn’t a list, it’s a damn spreadsheet, everything orderly and it has all the information you could ever think up. All the decisions have been made, it's just a matter of making arrangements or outright buying the items on the sheet.
She gets out of the car and stands beside me, “I’ll take the ones with the dollar signs on it,” she points to an example. “The other ones just need checking on, or still need to be negotiated.”
“Why isn’t Lidia helping you do this?”
She looks at me, her cute nose scrunched up, “She’s got plenty to do I assure you. So are you going to do this or not?”
“How do I get ahold of you if I have questions?”
“Are you just trying to get my number?”
“No,” yes, “I’m a dude I’m completely clueless when it comes to this girly 'I’ve been dreaming of my wedding day all my life' stuff.”
She snorts, “I’d worry if you had. I’d be surprised if you’ve ever had thoughts about getting married.”
Alright, that hurt. What did she think I had been working towards when we were together, just another notch in my bedpost? “That was uncalled for.” It just came out, and it tasted bitter on my tongue.
“I’m sorry…” she looks surprised by my words, and damn it, she shouldn't be. The simple ring I bought for her burnt a hole in my pocket months before I planned to ask her. I had a speech, I thought to get down on one knee, the whole spiel. Only when that ring was taken by a temporary foster brother during my time in the system did I finally let the idea go. Or rather, it let go of me.
Instead, what I thought would be our beginning became our ending. She blackballed me so damn hard. Thinking back, I couldn't say how she slipped through the hundreds of conversations I tried to start with her. At home, at school, even on the damn phone. Just a month before her graduation, and suddenly I no longer had the love of my life. She found a way to graduate early, packed up all of her stuff, and left. She became an apparition, slipping seamlessly from my life, leaving me wondering if it had all been a nightmare. Then everything went to complete shit, reality came in from all sides, and it turned out to be worse than a nightmare.
“Cole?” her voice is tentative, and it only makes me angrier.
“I was wrong,” I look her in the face, her beautiful face, that sometimes in the eyes the girl I once knew shone through. Right now, however that girl wasn’t looking back at me, she hid behind this woman’s mask, “I can’t fucking do this,” I hand her back the list and get on my bike.
Chapter 6
“Wait,” I say with a hand outstretched. “Why not?”
After everything it should have been easy to let him go. True what he did back then broke me, but I think both of us were punished enough for that. It only took the pain I saw in his eyes to realize it. This whole time I hadn't considered my actions and how he must have felt, though I don't think most teenagers are equipped with those types of thoughts.
“It's like you haven't even been there with me.”
“Been where?” I ask in confusion.
He looks at me for a long moment, then he’s off his bike and in my bubble again. I want to hold my breath, his scent intoxicating, more manly yet still recognizable. Though how could I, even if it turned my middle into liquid, and my brain hazy? Despite what I should do, it brought comfort in this chaos I find myself in.
“Of course, I thought about marriage, but only with you.”
“Wait… what?” I take steps away from him, but he follows until I hit the side of my car, closing in until he cages me. I shake my head, “No, that doesn't make sense.”
“How doesn't it?”
I can't look him in the face, but that doesn't stop him from looking at mine. I can feel his stare, and the weight it holds.
“Em,” he says in a whisper.
That brings my eyes up. “No, it just can't be the truth,” but there in his face, sincerity traces every line of his expression. My sturdy foundation starts to show wear and cracks as I continue to search his face.
“I would show you the ring if I still had it.” With how closely I examine his features I notice the flash of anger before it clears back into determination.
“Then why,” I shake my head in hopes it will clear the memory that started to flood in. Even to this older body the pain still hit it hard as if it were new. Young love, in my experience, had so many more emotions tangled in and it left lasting scars. It's before you learn to pace yourself, test the waters, before submerging completely without even a breath to help you, if you need to resurface. It almost makes me laugh aloud at the irony, because it felt like I had been drowning.
