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“Oh, um, in my bag still. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind me using one of your shirts to sleep in. I couldn’t find my bag. I used your soap,” she rambles, wringing her hands together.
“Lily, I don’t give a damn you want to wear my shirt. Same goes for my soap. Don’t give a shit.” I grunt and move from the bed to where I’d placed her bag when we first got in. Picking it up, I lift it onto my dresser, open it, and find her brush. “Sit on the bed, babycakes, I’ll brush your hair out for you.”
“I can do it,” she murmurs but moves to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, but I want to do it for you, so sit and let me take care of you, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods.
Moving behind her, I settle my legs on either side of her and start brushing her hair out.
Never in my life did I think I would ever do something like this for a woman. It seems intimate in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
Neither of us speaks as I brush out the long, thick locks. Feeling the strands between my fingers, I bite back a groan as visions of tangling it in my fist as I do other things with her. Fuck her mouth, pussy, and damn if I don’t want her ass as well. I want to own every part of her. And I intend to do just that.
First, though, is letting her get comfortable with me. Take this at her pace. It’s something I’m not used to, but for Lily, as I keep telling myself, I’ll do it for her. She damn well deserves it.
CHAPTEREIGHT
LILY
Two weeks. That’s what it’s been, but it feels so much longer. Speed is driving me bonkers.
Not just crazy nor insane. Flipping bonkers with the way he’s being toward me.
Speed has been sweet, and it’s something I’m not used to. Even if it’s in a gruff way. I’m not used to a man doing things for me. Not without a price. I keep expecting him to do something to me, which he hasn’t. Sure, he’s held my hand, sat close to me, let me curl into him, and he’s brushed my hair for me more than once. That act alone feels far too intimate.
I didn’t think I’d enjoy having him do this for me, but I do. It makes me feel things I didn’t think I could or would.
What’s really getting to me, though, is I want him. I actually want him to do more than hold my hand, let me lie against him, and brush my hair. I want more than waking up in his arms . . . which I’ve done every day from the first night of us staying at the clubhouse. I always wake before him, and when I do, it’s with one of his hands up my shirt, cupping a breast while the other is palming me beneath my panties.
It should’ve freaked me out, maybe initially it did, but Speed never acted on it. I’d lay there still and silent, act like I was still asleep, and he’d pull his hands away with a heavy sigh.
His touch is what’s driving me loopy. I need him to touch me more. Maybe kiss me like in the books I’ve been reading. Or the way I’ve seen the other men do with their wives/ol’ ladies. The way those men are it can only be described as precious. There are no other words for it. You can tell they cherish their women, and I think that’s what I want . . . from Speed.
That doesn’t mean the thought doesn’t scare me.
“She’s lost in her head again.” Tiny snickers, pulling me from my thoughts.
“More like she’s got a head full of biker,” Nora snorts. “I know that look far too well.”
A few of the others sitting around the kitchen counter giggle, including Angelina.
Since the first day Speed brought me here from the safe house, I’ve gotten to know these women. At first, I thought they were going to hate me because of who I am and what I was sent to do to the Devil’s Riot MC. They didn’t, though. They’ve been nothing but nice. Not once did they ask me for my story. I’m sure they know part of it or all, depending on what the guys might have told them. These women are close and look like they don’t hold back when it comes to knowing what’s going down within this place. However, I’m sure they don’t know what actually happens when the guys go through the threshold into the room they call church.
This term confused me at first when I was at the Devil’s Riot clubhouse. I learned quickly it wasn’t for worship, but rather, it’s what they all call meetings. I found this interesting and asked Rachel one time while she was sitting with me. She’d explained that, that room is off limits to any and all but members of the club. No one is supposed to go in there but them. It’s a sacred place to the club where they commence among themselves and talk about what’s happening within the club and business that is only for them to know. She also informed me that ol’ ladies only know what their men tell them. Some tell others more. Some less. But whatever that woman is told, she’s to keep her mouth shut. The less a woman knows, the safer she is.
These women here, though, they’re different. They seem more than just close with their men. It’s like they’re extensions of the men who claim them, and said men come looking for them the first chance they get every time. The way they do this is something I find most beautiful of all.
And these women have brought me into the fold, as Speed told me the first day. They’ve spent time with me. Helped me learn things that I didn’t know. Brielle had brought me nearly a dozen cookbooks, and all of them explained things to me so that I would understand. Not once did they make me feel an ounce of embarrassment.
Instead, they shared their stories with me. Tiny had also come from Stoney’s club at the suggestion of Victoria. Nora was sent to be protected at the request of another Devil’s Riot MC charter. The others told me what they went through, and my heart ached for them, and for the first time, I didn’t feel so alone.
“So, tell us what’s actually going through that mind of yours?” Rissa laughs and mixes the salad together.
Together, we’re all making dinner for the club. It’s the first time I’m making anything myself. I wanted to go with something simple, but Tiny convinced me to try something more challenging. So, I’m making a version of tacos. Earlier, I started the meat in the crock pot. This part was easy, but I’m making homemade refried beans, homemade salsa, rice—I don’t want it too sticky—and a dessert to go with dinner.
“Um, I don’t understand what you want to know,” I confess.
