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“Thomas, we have to slow down,” she huffs, her breathing ragged. Her hand holding mine to stop my progress.
I look down at her, so hungry for her that I can’t think straight.
“You want this,” I argue. Hell, I can smell her hunger for me. She has to be soaked—there’s no way she can deny me.
“Grunt is outside,” she breathes, fighting me as she tries to pull her shirt down.
“F-fuck,” I hiss as reality comes crashing back down around us. The disappointment of being denied must filter even more than I think because, cautiously, Lyla reaches up and touches my face. The tip of her thumb moves over the cut from the butterfly and then carefully moves along the area that I know is bruised.
“I can’t right now, Thomas. I’m so confused. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I wasn’t lying. I have so much anger and hurt inside that sometimes I think I do hate you,” she whispers, the words soft despite the pain they inflict.
I pull away. I don’t really have a choice. I stand up, and that’s painful because my cock is so hard that my jeans are trying to cut off the blood flow. I slide my hand down and adjust my length—barely able to stop the groan of hunger and ache that I feel while doing it. I force myself to look at Lyla and her eyes are tracking my every move. She even licks her lips as she watches me. The pleasure that gives me thrums through me.
“You might hate me, Lyla. Fuck, I hate myself,” I mutter, rubbing a hand over my face as she brings her beautiful blue eyes and swollen lips back to me. God, she’s gorgeous. “B-but you want me, baby girl. You want me.” I see surprise light up her face. “You better fucking believe I’m going to use that to get you back.”
She swallows as she watches me, panic bleeding through the clear blue of her eyes. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and she lets out a shaky breath.
“Why, Thomas?”
“You won’t b-b-believe me.”
“Tell me anyway,” she says.
“You were never a replacement, Lyla. I w-wanted you that n-night. I j-just wasn’t ready for you.”
“T, man, you need to get going. Ford’s not one to be kept waiting,” Grunt says after banging on the door.
“Go,” Lyla says. “I’m not sure I can handle any more today, anyway.”
I nod with a sigh. Leaving her is the last thing I want to do, but I’ve pushed enough for now and hell, maybe it made a difference. At least she didn’t throw something at me this time.
Chapter 18
Ford
“You’re letting this asshole call too many shots. He’s lucky he’s breathing,” King grumbles, kicking his legs out in the chair across from him.
“We could make sure he’s not breathing,” Tweet suggests, and Craven grunts in agreement. Jonesy is quiet. I think he likes T-Boy and damn if the son of a bitch isn’t growing on me. He’s like a fungus, but still…
For some reason Craven and Tweet seem too eager to end him. I know they’ve been around since Lyla was born, but I can’t just kill the asshole. They have to know that. Sure, who he is factors into that, I can’t deny it. But the truth is, I think my daughter loves him. I would have rather she picked someone else—preferably someone outside of the club life. Lyla has been chosen second way too many times. I’d prefer she have a man who didn’t have the same responsibilities as I do. I know that I’ve had to choose the club over her way too much in the past. It hurt her and yet, I still did it. Most times, I didn’t really have a choice. Other times, however, I did it without thinking. The club coming first was just the way I lived my life and having Lyla changed me, but not completely. I know I’ve been a shit dad at times. There’s no way around it. I don’t want her to have the same struggles with the man she ties herself to.
Still, it’s out of my hands. If T-Boy makes her happy, then by God, that’s what she’s going to have. That’s the real reason I hunted the bastard down. Sure, if he was a fucking prick I would have choked the life out of him myself. I had no qualms about it. I wanted to see them together, though. If my Butterfly truly loved this man and he wasn’t a complete waste of space, she was going to get him—after I beat the ever-living-fuck out of him.
Something I still plan on doing just on principle.
T-Boy doesn’t know it, but he has more allies in my club than he suspects. Jonesy, Grunt, and even me. King has his own reasons for hating him, but he wouldn’t kill him. I shrug it off. I suppose it’s neither here nor there at this point. This is club business right now—not about my daughter. I need to neutralize the threat against me and then I can get back to making sure my daughter is happy. T-Boy will find a way to give that to her or I’ll beat common sense into him. I briefly met this Gabby, and I can easily say that my girl is worth a billion of that bitch—and that’s purely from judging the other girl’s actions. Women can be a conniving bunch. My Lyla—thankfully—doesn’t have that in her.
