“You fucked,” she says bluntly in a fit of giggles. I cover my face with my hands, mortified. Maybe I should have kept my trap shut.
“Why are you embarrassed? And come to think of it, why are you so down about it? Clay is clearly obsessed with you.”
I slide my hands down my face and look across at them both, it reminds me of my friends from school when we all used to sit at the back of the bike shed, sharing stories of our first encounters.I was always the reserved one, pretending that I had done things just to stay in with the crowd.
“If he was that obsessed with me, he wouldn’t have left me in an empty bed,” I mutter, picking my glass back up, taking a huge gulp, the burn easing the ache in my chest. Red frowns at me.
“He left you alone?” I nod. “There’s got to be a logical explanation,” Rochelle adds. “Trust me when I say, in all the years Clay has been part of this club, he has never once set eyes on or even touched a woman.”
Now it’s my turn to frown in disbelief. There is no way that this hunk of a man has been surrounded by all these women, literally offering themselves to him, and he hasn’t taken them up on it.
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Nope,” Rochelle says, popping the P. “The moment he walked in here with you, we couldn’t believe it. We were even beginning to wonder if he batted for the other side,” she says. “Oh my god, not that that’s a problem at all,” she rushes out.
I snort, laughing. There is no way that he is. I think of how he made my body tremble last night, the way he brought me to the edge multiple times without much effort. No man has ever been able to make me feel so special, so loved.
“Do you like him?” Red asks, picking up her own glass, and taking a sip.
I take a moment to think about what she’s asked and realise that if I didn’t like him, I wouldn’t be bothered about him leaving this morning and not coming back.
“Yeah, I really do. It’s just not the right time, you know, with everything going on.”
“Personally, I think it’s the perfect time,” Red says, placing her glass back on the table and grabbing my hand again. “He wants to help you heal. He wants to be the one to get you your boys back. Right now, there is no better time.”
“She’s right,” Rochelle adds.
“Thanks, ladies—” I’m interrupted when the doors to the bar swing open and Clay storms through. I stand up, wanting to tell him that I want to give this a try, when Drifter follows shortly behind him. Rochelle grabs my arm, shaking her head.
“Now is not the time.” I jump as a door slams in the distance. Everyone in the bar goes quiet for a brief moment before carrying on with their conversations like it’s a normal everyday occurrence. I sit back down at the table.
“It’ll be okay,” Rochelle reassures.
“It didn’t look okay,” I add nervously.
“This is how it works here. There’s a system. They need to work their shit out, and then it’s as if nothing happened. They’re brothers, maybe not by blood, but they’re bound together by more than that. By respect. By honour. They’ll never let anything come between them”
I nod, oddly comforted by the ways of the club already. These two have taken me under their wing like one of their own, even though I’m not. I’m an outsider to them, but you’d never think that.
Rock comes over to the table and slides his hand to the back of Red’s neck. She stares up at him with love as he brings her closer to him and kisses her hard on the mouth, leaving her breathless.
“Get a room,” Rochelle drawls out. They break their kiss, and Rock sits beside her, pulling her into his side.
“What’s up, Rochelle? Jealous?" Rock asks, clearly goading her.
“Rock, I’m jealous of the fact you fuckers are at it like rabbits and Drifter hides out in his office.” She laughs. I think the pressure of having children is really beginning to take its toll on their relationship.
“Well, Drifter looks like he could do with some one-on-one time.” Rock winks, and Red smacks him round the head. I smirk at their fun-loving display.
“Did you really just say that?” she snaps.
“But in all seriousness, I wouldn’t wanna be Clay right now.”
I stare at the office door, wondering what the hell Clay could have done to piss off his Pres. He loves this club more than life itself.
Clay
The door slams, and I turn just as Drifter’s fist collides with my face.That fucker is going to bruise.I wince as he pulls his fist back, clenching and unclenching his fingers to ease the pain I imagine he feels in his knuckles. I deserved it—I never should have gone against his wishes.
