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Kobra was as hard as his father—if not harder. When it came to expressing his emotions, even Hades loved. Kobra, he didn’t love anyone that didn’t have to love him in return. In those short moments, Kobra Kincaid showed me that he had regret, and as I watched him storm off, I wondered what her name was.
But before I could spend any more time thinking about Kobra’s regret, thoughts of Holly—and if Kobra was right—overpowered my mind. Did Holly still love me? But more importantly, was I willing to stick around to see if she did or didn’t?
I looked down at the whiskey bottle.
Should I be a coward, and as Kobra said, was I prepared for the sleepless nights and lying awake at midnight, wondering what if I had fought for her? What if I stayed and fought her to make her face her feelings for me? Or if she felt nothing for me, what if I fought till she felt something for me again?
Should I leave?
Should I stay?
Should I fight for her?
In the end, my decision was made. When I pictured her, married with kids to another bloke— Yeah, fuck that. So I pushed the whiskey bottle away, got up, and headed for the clubhouse door.
I didn’t know if deep down, she loved me or if I was fighting a losing battle. All I knew was she made me question everything. She had flooded my body with emotions that sure as fuck weren’t natural. Because it couldn’t be natural to feel the love I felt for this woman, even after not seeing her for two years.
She drove my mind and my body close to insanity, and as I stormed towards her family’s house, a part of me knew, this right here, was stupidity.
I loved her, and I was prepared for her to burn me, leave me to be nothing but ashes. I was willing to risk that because there was a chance that she would love me back, that she would fearlessly face a chaotic future beside me. And the thought of her beside me for the rest of my life made me take up the odds and, just like that, I took a life gamble.
16
Holly
I sat on the couch with my knees to my chest, breaking into tiny pieces. The fear was crippling. My anxiety was out of control. And as my arms firmly wrapped around me, it felt like my arms were the only thing keeping me together.
A pounding fist on the wooden front door caused me to jump. God, who was that? Then my blood ran cold. I knew no biker would be pounding on Hade’s front door like that. So, as I walked to the front door, I was ready to face the police.
I swung the front door open with a cold expression and the tears still on my cheeks. But instead of seeing the men in blue, I saw Creed.
I opened my mouth, ready to start another war of words with him when he stepped into the house. He cupped my face with his hands as his lips crashed on mine.
He wasn’t soft. But he never was. His lips claimed mine with aggression, pure angry and damn straight possession, and my reasons why this was wrong disappeared. My hands went to his shoulders. I knew I should push him away, and I knew this wasn’t healthy, yet I kissed him back just as furiously.
Furious that I loved him.
Furious that he had the power to hurt me, yet I still loved him.
He pushed me farther into the house and kicked the front door closed behind him. And his hands gripped my hips, lifting me. His mouth moved in perfect sync with mine. He was a flame, and right now, I was being pulled into the naked blue flame.
When I didn’t open my mouth immediately for him, he growled slightly and then bit my bottom lip. My lips parted. The familiar taste of whiskey and lingering mints suffocated me, flooding me with memories of us, but mainly, it was feeding the addiction.
He was the heroin to my bloodstream. The taste of him, the feel of my body firmly against his chest—I was overdosing on a drug I was in recovery from.
I linked my arms behind his neck as he backed me against the foyer wall, and I was bathing in the euphoria as he pulled back.
I was dazzled. My lips pulsed. My eyes slowly opened, and when my eyes locked with his, I couldn’t inhale. Instead, I froze.
“You said you were praying for me,” he said, his words deep, swirling with dominance as he kept staring into my eyes, his face so close. “You should start praying for yourself, Holly.” He paused, and I couldn’t inhale as fear slowly began to surface, fear of my lust for him. His mouth went to my ear. “It’s not if. It’swhenyou’ll be moaning my name. It’s not if you’ll love me again. It’swhenyou are ready to admit it to yourself. Start praying, baby girl, ’cos I’m back.”
He had a cocky smirk as he stepped back.
With those words said, his hands came off me, and I just stared at him as he opened the front door. I didn’t take a breath until it was closed.
Oh.Fuck.
* * *
