I grunt and rub my jaw across the top of her head. I rarely speak about my dad, even to my own family, and don’t talk about him to anyone else. What good does it do? But for some reason, here with Amelia, it doesn’t feel so bad.
“Sounds like the way my dad used to treat Kat. Like a little princess.”
Amelia shivers, and I wrap the blanket more securely around her. She slides her palm across my chest, and it’s a strangely tentative gesture, as though we’re strangers and haven’t just had the greatest sex ever.
“It was all such a waste.” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder, and I sigh heavily. What would she say if I told her how my dad really died? That he was murdered inside by a crazy son of a bitch Wolf?
She’s smart and knows about the MC lifestyle, but the truth is I don’t want to scare her away with my bloody family history. I frown and rest my cheek against her hair. What’s with that? It’s hardly a secret. My dad died a hero, doing time to protect the club. I’m proud of him, no question, but the way he died screws my guts into knots whenever I think about it.
I let out a long breath. Weird, but with Amelia snuggling me in a way I don’t usually allow, the ache is somehow fainter. As though, finally, I’m coming to accept it.
“I know.” I breathe in her elusive scent of roses, and even though my dick stirs with appreciation, a strange sense of peace threads through me. She shivers again, and I pick her up in my arms and take her into my bedroom.
Never gonna let you go.
Chapter Eleven
Amelia
With Gage’s arm around me, holding me close in bed, the last thing I want to do is leave. It’s warm, and I feel strangely safe and protected, and I screw my eyes shut in an attempt to halt those crazy thoughts.
This is just a hookup. He’s gotten what he wanted—well, two out of three, anyway. My face burns, and my insides melt as I recall his dark promise. I totally expected him to follow through after he brought me to bed, but instead he just stroked my hair and kissed my face, as though he thought I needed comforting—nothing like my prejudiced idea of how a big, bad biker behaves with a girl, which I’ve clung onto for so many years.
And now he’s asleep.
It’d be so easy to pretend there’s more between us. Or does he always make a girl feel so special afterward? Somehow I don’t believe that. Don’twantto believe it. Things were so great and perfect, and then I went and mentioned my dad. What the hell iswrongwith me?
Gage isn’t a regular guy who one day I’m going to take home to meet my family. He’s never going to find out about my past. There’s no reason why I had to mention Dad to him. Except there’s a twisted part deep inside me that wants him to know who I really am—and not care.
I don’t care whoheis anymore. He can’t help who his parents are, and it’s not like I’d ever have to face his father.
No, but I still see my dad’s face every time I make some excuse to see Gage again.
When he talked about his dad, he sounded so normal, nothing like the ugly monster that’s haunted my nightmares for so many years.
Face it, Amy.
But I don’t need to, because deep inside I’ve always known. My dad would’ve done anything for us, and we could wrap him around our little fingers, but he was the enforcer for the Wolves, and rumor has it he was a scary mofo when it came to business.
Looks like Gage’s dad was the same.
I let out a shaky breath. I’m falling for this bad boy, hard. I knew the danger from the second I met him, but it didn’t stop me. All these years of only dating nice guys, guys who’d shit themselves if they knew who my dad was, and not one of them came close to making me feel the things Gage does.
Tough. I came into this with my eyes wide open. I’ve had my fling. He won’t care that it’s over. He’ll probably be relieved that I don’t expect another date from him.
For a minute, I hesitate. If all that’s true, then why did he cuddle me in the living room and make me laugh with his crazy comments? If all he wants is sex, he wouldn’t waste his time flirting. Not when I’m a sure thing.
Or maybe I’m reading more into everything he does, because deep inside that’s whatIwant.
Stealthily I slide out of bed and pull the discarded blanket around me since my clothes are still in the other room. A faint glow from the street lamp outside the window is just enough to illuminate his face, and for a few seconds I can only gaze at him as crazy disjointed thoughts tumble through my head.
Does this have to be the end?
My gaze slips, and his magnificent bald eagle tattoo pins me to the spot, and my heart aches.
Of course, it’s the end. This is just a one-night stand that was two weeks in the making.
It’s over, all right.
