* * *
“We’ve ramped up security as much as we can.” A deep male voice—Ryland’s, maybe?—stopped me short the next morning after I’d woken alone and started down the stairs toward the kitchen. “But you’re well covered, and so’s the club.”
“Feels like it’ll never be enough now,” Ruston grunted.
“You weren’t ready for her.” Tank’s voice, sending my heart to my knees.
“No,” Ruston agreed. “But fuck, maybe I’ll never be.”
That was all I needed to hear. I turned on a heel and raced back to Ruston’s room, tears cascading down my cheeks as I hurriedly got dressed and began shoving my clothes in my duffle. I was nearly done when I heard him enter the room.
I straightened my shoulders, determined to maintain some degree of dignity despite knowing I must look like a wreck, and it was probably obvious that I’d been crying.
“Grace.” His voice was a low rasp as his gaze snapped from my duffle to my tear-stricken face. “Baby, what the fuck?”
“This was a bad idea. I get that now. If one of your guys would be willing to give me a lift into town, I’d appreciate it. I can figure out a ride from there back to my car.”
His nostrils flared. “Babe, again. What. The. Fuck.”
“I heard you down there,” I explained. “You weren’t ready for me to come. You might never have wanted me to. I made an assumption, but obviously I was wrong. So, I’m leaving,” I explained, proud that my voice sounded strong despite how absolutely wrecked I felt inside.
He stepped closer, but I took a step back in response, halting his progress. He emitted a low rumble of frustration, running his hand through his hair. “Been dreaming about holding you ever since I left you,” he declared. “Been dreaming about your eyes, your hair, your laugh, the way you smell. What I hadn’t planned on is this shit with Pike ramping up. I wanted my business with him to be done, to make sure there was no danger to you. As for never being ready for you—all I meant was there’s no man that’s ever ready for a woman like you, baby. You completely tilted my world in the very best way. I’m just still trying to catch my breath. I’ve slept for shit since I got back from Hawthorne. I kept waking up thinking you were beside me, where you belong. I was sure you were mine in Hawthorne, but if there was any part of me that doubted it—it was solidified when I rode away feeling like I left part of me behind.”
Despite his declarations, I was done holding back.
“We talked every day, sometimes more than once, and you never once mentioned any increasing danger here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone even despite feeling a mixture of frustration and betrayal that he’d kept such an important part of his life from me.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Didn’t want you to worry.”
I cocked my head to the side in challenge. “So basically, you lied.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “Grace?” he clipped when I didn’t answer.
I thought about every conversation where I’d tried to get him to share, where I knew instinctively he was holding back. Where he insisted everything was fine. “God, you’re just like everyone else in my life—treating me like some fragile fucking thing. I thought you actually understood me,” I grated angrily. “But the fact that you didn’t think I could handle the reality of things here, the fact you kept it from me—made decisions about us without even talking to me—that’s not what I thought we were building, Ruston. And did it ever occur to you that if you’d told me what was going on, I would have changed my plan knowing the danger?” I demanded.
It was a low blow. It was also true.
“You about done?” he growled as he prowled toward me, unrelenting until my back was against the wall. “I kept shit from you, but I didn’t fucking lie. I’ll never lie to you,” he swore vehemently as he stared down at me, his large frame dwarfing mine. “Did it ever occur to you that I do know you? So well, that I knew if I shared this shit, my fucking tough-as-nails woman with a heart so big she sat at my bedside for two weeks not expecting anything in return would be determined to be at my side through it? And as much as I wanted that, Grace, I needed your safety more. That willalwaysbe my priority.”
And I knew then I’d done the right thing to press him. During his time in Hawthorne, he’d pushed me plenty. Now it was my turn.
“And being by your side, no matter what, will always be mine,” I countered quietly. “So, I’m here now. You gonna send me away until it’s perfectly safe, when we both know with your being an MC prez that will never truly be possible? Something, by the way, that I understood the moment we met. You going to keep me at arm’s length telling yourself it’s for my safety when really it’ll just mean the end of us?” The words were acrid on my tongue.
He dropped his head to my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as my words registered the same impact on him.
I cupped my hands around either side of his neck. “Ruston, I knew what I was getting into when I fell for you. Now, are you going to catch me, or push me away? Because I’m telling you, I’m not the kind of woman that’s content with half-truths. I’m not okay with conversations that stop when I enter the room. And I’m not okay with not having all of you. So, you decide.” I waved a hand toward my duffle.
“That’s the last time you question us,” he swore, leaning into me, his eyes glittering with intensity. “You are the most precious thing in my world, and everything I am is yours.” He cupped my jaw, his expression fierce and touch gentle. “You’re mine, and you’re here. And though I might have waited until I had Pike run out of town or six feet under, having you here is what I needed all along, and I’m not letting you go. Now, can we stop fucking fighting?” he demanded as his hands went to my backside, his mouth to my neck. “’Cause you seem finally up for what I have in store for you. I haven’t tasted you in days. Haven’t been inside your sweetness. Haven’t properly welcomed you home.”
My full-body shudder told him all he needed to know; I was definitely up for it.
He tore my sleep shorts down my legs, lifting me up and pressing my back to the wall as he pressed his jeans-clad hardness right where I needed him most. “We can go slow later,” he ground out, pulling back enough to unzip his jeans thrusting inside me without delay.
I cried out his name, my hands clutching his shoulders as every muscle in his body worked to take me hard against the wall.
The feel of him inside was undeniably necessary—akin to basic human needs I’d gladly do without in order to have this.
“My fantasies of you could never live up to the real thing,” he professed as he carried me to the bed, dropping me to it and powering inside me with renewed intensity. “Thought about you in my bed, in our bed, so many goddamn times,” he growled.
