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She pushed to her feet and wobbled slightly, finding herself a little dizzy after crouching on her heels. She might be coming down with something since she’d been feeling light-headed and sick to her stomach a lot recently. Maybe not a spring cold but possibly her allergies kicking in.
Wincing at the sudden ache in her chest, she rubbed at it. Unfortunately, it did nothing to relieve it. No, it wasn’t her chest, it was her breasts. Were they anticipating Easy’s attention?
It would be her luck that her damn boobs found a mind of their own.
What’s wrong girls? Does Timmy need help? Did he fall in a well?
She sighed at her own ridiculousness.
If she was being honest, her aching breasts were no different than with every step she took closer to The Barn for her late-night visits, she became wetter. By the time she turned Easy’s doorknob she was more than ready for him.
Anticipation was a pretty powerful form of foreplay. It was also addictive.
Tonight, as she laid in bed unable to sleep, she had felt the pull to spend time with Easy.
That wasn’t good. No, that was very bad. She did not need to get attached to him. She didn’t.
Even though it might be too damn late.
She groaned, tightened her ponytail and debated scrapping the idea of visiting Easy tonight. She stared at the bunkhouse only yards in front of her, then glanced back over her shoulder in the direction she had come.
Cluburbia.
Bikers and their families making a life for themselves. Going from wild to reined in as soon as they claimed a woman.
Maybe not quite tamed but too damn close.
Was that her future? Living in one of those boxes that sat in line with the rest, claimed by a man and raising his children?
Or was she destined to remain living in one of those boxes raising someone else’s kids?
In truth, she never thought she’d be here this long. She came to the farm to get her feet on solid ground but when she first arrived she thought the Fury and Manning Grove would only be a springboard to launch herself into her adult life. A starting point.
Where she got to make the decisions. Where she had control over her life.
But here she was. Still.
Helping raise Dyna. Helping Cage and Jemma keep house.
And sneaking into the Fury bunkhouse to spend time with a man she knew she shouldn’t and kept doing it anyway.
What started out as a way for her to “buck the system,” to be a rebel, to feel like she held control of her life within her own fingers, ended up being so much more.
But if Easy went to Trip, that control would be ripped right out of her fingers. Any sense of control—even imaginary—would be gone.
Her feet stopped moving forward and instead turned her around. Once again she stared at the path she’d just followed. The exterior lights from the homes on the other side of the tree line were little white dots in the distance.
She took one step… two… back toward the way she just came and then stopped again.
She could do it.
She could make a clean break. Go home. Forget whatever happened between her and Easy. She could leave him alone. Let him continue with his life without her in it, where there was no threat to him losing everything just because of her.
Why the hell didn’t he kick her out that first night? Not only that but lock his door after doing so?
She so wasn’t worth it.
She wasn’t worth him having a date with The Punisher.
She wasn’t worth him losing his colors.
Or losing Trip’s trust.
So, why did he allow her to continue to come to him?
Why?
And why couldn’t she stop going to him?
Because, for crissake, if she searched deep inside herself, really deep, she would have to admit to herself it was far more than sex.
More than the thrill of possibly getting caught.
More than giving the finger to her brother’s restrictive rules.
So much more.
However, if she allowed herself to look that deeply, what she’d see would actually scare the shit out of her.
The idea of a real relationship with a real man made her panic.
She hadn’t seen a “real” or loving relationship between a couple while growing up. At least, not until she came here and saw what a healthy relationship should look like, should be like. Even then, she still struggled to wrap her head around it. The concept—or hell, the reality of it—was foreign to her.
Truthfully, it all seemed like a pipe dream. That there could be no way the couples in the Fury were that happy, that content, behind closed doors. It had to be all smoke and mirrors just like her parents’ marriage.
Trip had been so damn happy the day he married Stella. He practically bounced out of his skin the day he announced Stella was pregnant. He just about fell to his knees and cried the day he found out the baby was a boy. That his dreams were finally coming true. That he was having his first son. A son he’d be able to leave his legacy, the Blood Fury MC, to once Rush was older.
