RIDE (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) (32 page)

T
hree months
of working at The Mockingbird had flown by as swiftly as the namesake of the restaurant. Jillian was a genuinely nice person, but she was a strict task-master and took her role as my mentor seriously. As I hadn’t had any formal training, much of my day was spent doing food prep, such as peeling potatoes, cutting up vegetables, cleaning and disinfecting work stations, and the like. It was boring, repetitive, and sometimes even backbreaking work, and to a lot of people it probably sounded like torture, but I loved practically every minute of it. I loved being in the kitchen. I loved the noise, I loved the speed and the gruff camaraderie among the kitchen staff. Most of all, I loved the learning, both from Jillian’s direct instruction but also through osmosis. It was amazing just being there to watch how she ran her kitchen, how she guided and pushed her staff to make the restaurant the best it could be.

And I was usually so busy at work that I barely had time to think about Grey while I was there.

In many ways, The Mockingbird had become my refuge. I came home from the restaurant exhausted most nights, threw myself into bed, and slept a mercifully dreamless sleep. There was something cleansing about the physical exhaustion, so much easier to assuage than the emotional exhaustion I was trying to flee. I knew that at least from the outside I seemed to be doing better, because Andi and Carly didn’t look at me with the same sharp, probing gaze of concern. They were watchful still, but seemed more or less reassured that I was on my way to recovery. I was careful to smile and laugh around them, to make casual conversation, and to do the things that we had always done together. But if they didn’t know it wasn’t the same, I did. The pain in my heart and soul had lessened, but it was still there, throbbing and thrumming like a deep wound trying to heal itself.

Cal had been patched in as a member of the Stone Kings, and though he texted and called me on a regular basis, I didn’t see him all that much. In the past, that might have bothered me, but I sensed that he was staying away because he didn’t want to remind me of what he knew I was trying to forget.

One evening in late September, just as the weather was beginning to turn cooler at night, I came home after an afternoon shift that had gone on longer than anticipated. As usual, I was fairly tired, and looking forward to a quiet evening sitting on the couch, maybe enjoying a glass of wine and a movie with Carly. I blame the fatigue for the fact that I didn’t notice the low-slung motorcycle parked across the street from our duplex, which I drove right by as I swung into the driveway.

The front door was open, so that the air of one of the last temperate nights could pass through. I swung the screen door open and stepped through, gratefully unloading my duffel bag on the floor. I smiled at Carly, who was sitting on the couch staring at the television screen.

“Hey,” I greeted her. “Glad you’re home. Wanna open a bottle of wine and watch crappy TV?”

She looked up at me then, and I noticed her expression was off. Arms crossed, her brows knit into a frown, she definitely seemed unhappy about something.

“You have a visitor,” she said.

Her words didn’t quite register. “Huh?” I asked, putting my hands to my back and stretching.

“You have a visitor. In your room.”

For some weird reason, my first thought was that she had gotten me a kitten or something, but obviously she wouldn’t be looking like she wanted to slap someone if that was the case. I opened my mouth to ask her to explain, but as I did, an awful realization hit me.

My face drained of color. “Grey?” I whispered.

“You should know that I told him to fuck off and die, but he begged me to hear him out.” Her frown deepened into a glower. “I don’t know if I did the right thing. I’m still sitting here kind of pissed at myself. But,” she paused, “I think maybe you should go listen to what he has to say.”

My first reaction was to flee.
If I ran out the door right now and drove away
, I thought irrationally,
I don’t have to do this
. It had been too long, I had fought too hard to forget him. I wasn’t sure I’d survive having to do it a second time. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.

I stood for a few moments, my body feeling paralyzed. Then, almost without knowing that my brain had sent any signals to my legs, I was moving toward the bedroom as if someone else was controlling them.

When I got to the door, Grey was sitting on my bed, elbows on his knees, his head hanging, looking at the floor. I cleared my throat and he looked up. His cool blue eyes met mine, and a sob almost escaped my throat. Everything I’d tried so hard to forget, all the emotions I had fought to leave behind me — all of it came surging back like a tidal wave. I stood rooted to the spot, afraid that the slightest movement would be all it would take for me to be carried away by it.

“Seton.” His rich baritone voice, which I remembered so well, was saying my name
. How I used to love it when he said my name
. He stood, but seemed to sense that he shouldn’t move forward.

“Why are you here?” I choked out. “Why?”

“Seton,” he said again. “I’ve missed you.”

Tears sprang to my eyes.
No
, I told myself sternly.
I am not going to cry. He doesn’t deserve it
. I had cried over this man more than anything else in my life except my father.

“You don’t get to say that,” I seethed at him. “You don’t get to say that, like you’re not the reason for it.”
You, who abandoned me in the end, just when I was starting to believe you wouldn’t
.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “Seton, I’m so sorry.” He glanced away, and when he looked back to me, I was shocked to notice that his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I thought I was doing what was right for you,” he said then. “Hell, part of me still thinks that. But…” he took a deep breath and let it out with a small chuckle. “A very bright former prospect told me that I wasn’t being fair to you by not letting you make your own decisions about what you wanted.”

Anger flooded through me. “No,
I
told you that,” I accused. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

He nodded. “I know. I know. You were right, Seton. I was a hypocrite. But somehow, coming from Cal… it kind of brought it home to me. I’d spent so much time bitching at you about how you weren’t letting him grow up. And here I was, treating you like a little girl. But shit, Seton.” He shook his head, his shoulders sinking into a defeated slump. “This life… the MC life. It’s not good enough for you. You deserve more than some outlaw biker. You have a future.” He looked up at me. “Hell, you’re gonna be a chef someday!” I opened my mouth to ask how he knew, but he interrupted me. “Cal told me. Plus, I’d know that dent in your fucking car anywhere. I’ve seen it outside the restaurant. I’ve driven by it a thousand times by now, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”

He took a few slow steps and stopped about two feet away from me, but kept his arms at his sides as if he could sense I didn’t want him to come any closer. “Seton,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. About everything. Especially not telling you about my uncle and your father. It’s just… That day. The day your dad was killed. Your eyes have haunted me ever since. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you over the years. And then, when I met you, and realized who you were… it was like I had a second chance to protect that girl. I just couldn’t let her risk being hurt by the club again.”

Listening to him, my heart began to pound like it was going to leap right out of my chest. Emotions raced through me faster than I could even register what they were: anger, hope, love, fear… “Greyson,” I countered, stunned at what I was hearing. “But you told me to let Cal join.”

“No. I didn’t tell you to let Cal join,” he corrected. “I told you to let him make his own choices. And yes, I realize now that I wasn’t being consistent. I believe you called me a ‘fucking hypocrite,’ to be exact.” A slight smile came to my lips, and he grinned. “I think I might have also been being a sexist asshole, assuming he could make his own choices but you couldn’t.”

I resisted the urge to agree with him, and let him continue.

“Seton, sweetheart,” he murmured, drawing closer. He raised his hand and softly brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I’ll say I’m sorry a million times if you want me to. I was wrong. I know that. But I wasn’t wrong about the life you’d be choosing if you were with me.” His eyes grew dark, concerned. “There is danger. I’m careful, and the club doesn’t take risks unless absolutely necessary, but I’m not a dentist. The club will always be there.

“Once everything Cal and you said had sunk in, I realized I had been so worried about protecting you that I hadn’t given you a chance to choose what you wanted,” he acknowledged. “But, once I saw what I had done, I couldn’t let you choose before you were able to make your decision based on the right things. Not on just how you felt about me. I wanted you to move on with your life, have a shot at something else. Something you wanted, so you could really make your choice. Now, you do.

“So now.” He took a step back, his expression solemn. “Now that you have two real choices. Now that I’m not in your life to fuck things up and confuse you. If you still want me…” he spread his hands wide. “If you still want
this
, I’m yours, Seton. I think I always have been.”

I stared at him in silence for a moment. What he was saying, it was so big. It felt like the tidal wave again. What Greyson was saying right now, it was exactly what I had wanted to hear all those months ago. It felt surreal to be hearing them now, like I was dreaming the whole thing.

“Greyson,” I said quietly. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

A stricken look crossed his face, but then his features rearranged themselves, and suddenly he looked like he could have been discussing how to do an oil change. “I understand,” he responded. “I don’t want to push you. This is your choice. Your choice alone, this time.”

“It’s not my choice alone,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s your choice, too. It’s
our
choice. That’s the point. That’s always been my point.”

He looked into my eyes, a soft expression on his face. “Baby, I made my choice a long time ago. I love you, Seton. Always have, always will. But I want you to be happy. I fucked that up once, but I’m not going to do that again. If you’re happy without me, so be it. I can love you from far away, too.”

“Greyson,” I cried, my voice cracking. I threw myself into his arms, the tidal wave breaking over the sea wall. “I choose you,” I whispered.

His arms went around me, strong and warm, and he kissed the top of my head, then my forehead, then my tear-wet eyes, then my cheeks, and finally, my lips.

He pulled me to him, kissing me hard at first, and I opened my mouth to his hungrily, as though I had been starving for months and he was feeding me. I reached up and slid my fingers through his hair, and I felt a trickle down my cheek and realized I was crying. Grey must have felt it too, because he pulled away from me for a second and gazed down at me with a serious expression.

“I’ll never make you cry again,” he whispered, brushing my tears away with his thumbs.

Then he was kissing me again, his mouth persistent, needy. “I missed you so much,” he murmured. “Seton.”

“I missed you too,” I whispered back.

His kisses softened then, making me dizzy with desire. He went slowly, giving me time, and soon I couldn’t help myself any more, I tightened my grip on his hair and drew him closer, deeper. His tongue licked against mine, and I answered him eagerly, whimpering softly as heat traveled down my body, growing stronger every second.

He pressed me to him, until I could feel the hardness of his need between us. I bit his bottom lip and smiled to myself as he gasped in response. In a second, somehow we were on the bed, and he was pulling off my black pants and pushing my shirt up over my head. Where a moment ago he was fighting to be patient, now his hands moved quickly to free my breasts from my bra. I lifted myself up on my elbows so he could pull it away, and he let out a loud groan as he looked at me.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, lowering himself to me. “I’ve missed this so much.”

He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked it gently between his lips, using his tongue to flick and caress. I cried out before I could stop myself, and then giggled, embarrassed at the idea that Carly might have heard me.

From the living room, a voice called, “Okay, then, I’m going out for a while.” A second later the door slammed, and both Grey and I collapsed into helpless laughter.

“Shit,” he wheezed, “That girl is going to hate me for the rest of her life.”

He shook his head, and still smiling, he lowered his mouth to my breasts again. He kissed a path from one to the other, licking the second one in turn. “Gotta give them equal time,” he said huskily. I arched my back, pressing my nipple eagerly into his mouth, needing the feel of his expert tongue. My core began to throb, and I could hear myself begin to make low, breathy sounds as I moved under him. I desperately needed him to touch me below, to relieve the ache that had started inside me, which he knew how to soothe so well. I reached down and grabbed the waistband of his jeans, angling my hips against him and spreading my legs wide so that his erection was pressing against my throbbing center. He groaned against my skin as I moved back and forth against him, desperately trying to calm my needful body.

“Greyson,” I whispered. “Lose the jeans.”

He laughed, loudly. “Okay, then, message received.” He rose up and stood, quickly unbuttoning them and letting them fall to the floor, then pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. All my memories of how he looked like this were nothing compared to the reality, and a low sound escaped from my throat as he came back to the bed. I slid my hand around his hardness, stroking him slowly and watching in satisfaction as he threw back his head and moaned. Eagerly, I brought my mouth close to him, and then slowly began to lick around his head as my lips closed over his shaft.