Not everything had to be dealt with at that moment. Sometimes, alone time was necessary to figure out what exactly needed to be said, rather than just saying whatever you thought of in that state of heightened emotions.It wasn’t just during fights that we had to consider our individual approaches; everyday things required open communication and compromise.
Once I moved in, Bash gave me free rein to decorate however I wanted. At first, it was thrilling, a million ideas running through my head. But as soon as he handed me his credit card, those familiar thoughts of doubt, my stubborn unwillingness to make things permanent, reared their ugly head.
It didn’t come naturally, but I had to stop myself from spiraling out, to take the time to figure out exactly what was upsetting me and how to communicate those concerns to Bash. He came home from work to see me sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the credit card like a rattlesnake about to bite me. I had spent the day sorting through my thoughts and the anxiety that was rising in me.
Bash sat down in the seat across from me and gently asked me what was going on. As best as I could, I explained my feelings, the sudden paralysis I was having at that moment. My rational brain knew it was okay, but I couldn’t break out of the panic or make my body move. Bash listened, not interrupting as I vomited my thoughts in a completely unorganized rant.
“Why don’t we go shopping together? Stock up on household shit.” he offered, only sincerity on his face.
He wasn’t disregarding my concerns. Instead, he was offering to tackle them together. At first, he took the lead until I was able to break through my anxiety and started having fun, picking items out and discussing them with Bash. By the end of the trip, we had chosen several mutually approved things I was excited about—especially the high-quality sheets in dark, neutral colors for the bedroom, with an equally luxurious comforter. I also picked out a variety of throw pillows and blankets for the large leather sofa that took up dominion in the living room in front of the larger-than-life TV Bash had installed before anything else.
A few days after our shopping spree, I was surprised with a visit from Cece and Seph. They came with food and wanted to help unpack and get stuff set up. It was during that time Ilearned about their past, and the inception of Seph’s Trail. They had gotten permission from Reaper and Guard to tell me about the project, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It brought me to tears, knowing that the club worked so hard to protect women and children on such a large scale.
Not once did someone intervene in the shitshow that was my childhood growing up. I saw how little the law, social workers, and teachers could accomplish. If something like that had existed, if Jackson and I could have been whisked away and relocated by the club, who knew what our lives would have been like.
Jackson. Our last conversation was ever-present in my mind, anger and understanding a constant war within me. It still burned, his assumptions and lazy attempts to track me down. Learning he was a key player in Seph’s Trail left a sour taste in my mouth.
As much as I hated myself for it, I was jealous and angry that he was interested in helping other families, but not his own. Just as quickly, guilt ran through me at those thoughts. Despite everything between us, I was glad he was doing something purposeful, that was close to his heart.
Eventually, I would have to revisit everything my brother had told me. Really work through all the emotions that it brought up within me, and make a decision if there was a future in which we could reconnect. It would never be like it used to. Growing up, he was larger than life, my hero and protector. He was my everything. I didn’t need anyone to rescue me now, but I could use a friend. Someone to confide in who understood where those irrational thoughts and feelings came from.
Unconsciously, I fiddled with the bracelet on my wrist. I hadn’t taken it off since that sleepless night, when I found comfort in it. Even then, the jewelry provided me with a bit ofrelief as I slid it around my wrist. It was like a token to remind myself to let go of the past and live my life.
Now that I’d had a couple of weeks to settle in, we decided to host family dinner instead of throwing a housewarming party. Nervous energy ran through me. Even though I knew no one expected anything lavish from us, I still wanted to impress everyone. I had been preparing all week, picking recipes, then quickly changing my mind.
Bash was by my side throughout all of it, helping with food prep, cleaning the house, and indulging my multiple visits to the grocery store. He ran out for ice, drinks, and anything else we could think of. He also surprised me the morning of with a lovely bouquet for my efforts that I set as the centerpiece of the table. If I would let him, he would have cooked, too, but it was important to me that I handled that part.
Food was one of the few love languages I was comfortable with, and I wanted Bash and his family to know how much they meant to me. In the end, I went with the dishes I was most confident making. I prepared a simple roast chicken with sides of cornbread, roasted potatoes, and the same mac and cheese I had prepared for Match. I also made some garlic bread, a fresh salad, and butternut squash soup for appetizers. The dessert was cheesecake because Guard said he would boycott dinner if I tried anything else.
Everything was ready and staying warm in the oven or on the stove as I stood nervously in the kitchen. Without a spoon in my hand or a dish to check, anxiety about hosting dinner climbed back up my throat.Anxietywasn’t the correct word; I was excited, and it was making me antsy. I couldn’t wait to have everyone over to feed them.
“It smells amazing in here,” Bash’s rumbling voice came from behind me. Like usual, he couldn’t wait too long without touching me, and soon, his arms were wrapping around mymiddle as he held me from behind. He kissed the spot between my neck and shoulder that he knew was ticklish, and I tried not to squirm and elbow him.
“Stop pestering me. I have to finish getting everything ready,” I told him in a teasing voice.
“Babe, everything’s done. You’ve gone above and beyond. I just finished setting the table. The family won’t be here for another forty-five minutes. Why don’t you relax for a bit? Do you want a glass of wine? A massage?” he asked, his voice soft and calming. I leaned back into him, tilting my head to give him more access.
“You. All I need right now is you,” I said, meaning that with every fiber of my being. He turned me in his arms until we were face to face before bending down to kiss me softly. Within moments, it went from calm to heated, his arms moving from my waist to under my ass until he was lifting me up, and my legs were around his middle.
The walk from the kitchen to the bedroom was a blur, but I was consumed by all things Bash. I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted him. He was so far under my skin, I’d never be able to wash him off. Bash dropped me into the center of the bed, and I tried to pull him down on top of me. Our movements were fervent, rushed as we pulled at each other’s clothes in an attempt to get closer, skin to skin, as fast as possible.
Once we were both naked, I thought he would join me on the bed. Instead, he stood next to the bed, taking his time looking over every inch of my body. My skin flushed, and I grew even more restless under his gaze. He stroked his length, still not touching me, and I growled in frustration.
“Bash, stop playing,” I begged, uncaring of the whine in my voice.
“Just want to take this in. Never wanna forget what you look like, spread out for my enjoyment.” His hand smoothed over mycalf, climbing higher until he was almost touching me where I needed him. Right as he was about to graze my clit, he slid his hand back down before pushing my legs apart.
He dropped to his knees next to the bed, then used his grip on me to pull me closer to the edge of the mattress. Putting my legs over his shoulders, his hands cupped my ass as he lifted me to his mouth. He dived in with fervor. The feel of his tongue had my head dropping back and my thighs quivering.
Starting with teasing licks, he never stayed in one spot long enough. My hips were rising, reaching for more—more Bash. He slowed down, focusing on my clit, going in languid circles. I sighed at the pressure and feel of his stubble against my most sensitive areas. Gently, he slid a finger inside of me as he switched from licking to sucking. The dual sensations urged me forward, his finger pushing against the spot that made me jump.
When his teeth grazed my clit, the orgasm hit me like a freight train. My back arched off the bed on a scream before I collapsed in a puddle of satisfaction. My hands clutched his shoulders, careless of my nails or whatever marks I could have been leaving. Bash slowed his pace, drawing it out until I felt drained and overstimulated, soft licks and nips sending shivers through my whole body.
“Too sensitive. It’s too much,” I breathed out as I tried to pull at his hair until he was looking up at me.
“Fucking heaven. Never get enough of you. Never will,” Bash said in a harsh voice as he crawled up my body.
He kissed me, and tasting myself on him was its own sort of aphrodisiac. The evidence of our passion reignited me, and soon enough, I was pulling him closer to me, my legs wrapping around him in an effort to keep him where he was. Before I had a chance to take a breath, Bash pushed himself upright before maneuvering me to my hands and knees.
