I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, needing to touch him back. He exhales and turns his head to drop a kiss on the inside of my wrist. It’s about the sweetest thing this big biker can do in this moment.
“Faster,” I tell him. “I won’t break.”
“Alright. Stay still and let me do the work,” he says quietly. His voice is low, sexy and confident.
“I won’t move a muscle,” I promise. “You’re good at what you’re good at. I don’t want to throw you off your game.”
Bear is as good as his word. He braces himself on his arms and goes a little wild. I just lie there and enjoy the sensation of him moving on me, hard and fast. This is very much becoming my thing. I just bliss out as he rides me to two separate orgasms, one after another. I can feel him come with me on the last one.
I open my eyes to find that he is still hovering over me, only his chest is heaving, and he’s staring down at me with such a dazed expression. His gaze is dark and intense to the point of being an obsession. I know I’m playing with fire because Bear already told me that he would be like a dog with a bone if he fell for me. Now that the rough sex is over, there is also tenderness in his expression.
He carefully moves off me and to the side. I turn over to face him. “I love everything you did there, babe.”
He reaches out and hauls me into his arms again. After tucking my head under his chin, he murmurs, “You are a gift that keeps on giving, sweetness. I never thought I’d find a woman that I didn’t mind sharing feelings and shit with. You’re that person for me, Nat.”
Something about that sweet admission sinks into my brain right before I drift off into a restful sleep. I realize in this exhausted, sleepy moment that Bear is my one. I can’t let anything come between us, even my brother.
Chapter 14
Natalie
I arrive at my old foster home in Sacramento stripped of my property cut and feeling starkly naked without it. It’s a sobering reminder of where I came from and how much better my life is with my brother and Bear. The house is just like I remember it. A soulless, stark place, devoid of any joy.
I pause on the top step and force my shoulders to slump, just enough to make me seem subdued and defeated. I don’t have to put on much of an act, just being here, and the memories come flooding back. I lower my head as I remember how submissive I used to be. I need to pull all those mannerisms from my memory, so I can wear them one more time. Instead of doing it because I had to, I’ll do it with purpose and planning because I’m no longer that scared little kid I once was. My survival no longer depends upon pleasing people who just want to use me.
I clear my head. I step forward and knock.
The door jerks open and my foster mother fills the doorway. She’s thinner than I remember but her eyes are sharp and furious. Her gaze rakes over me in one cold, hard sweep and whatever she sees lights her up like a fuse.
“You,” she snaps. “You have some nerve showing your face here.”
I swallow, lowering my eyes the way she expects. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
She sneers, her voice furious. “Coming here is one of the stupider things you’ve done in your life. Did you honestly think we would welcome you with open arms after you dragged our name through the mud? I don’t know what kind of lies you told those people, but it got all my kids taken away. I was the only mother those poor little orphans had, and now God only knows where they are.” Reaching out to jab me with her sharp finger, she adds, “They’re all scattered to the four winds and it’s all your fault.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my voice low and apologetic. “I didn’t lie, ma’am. I promise.”
“Oh, don’t play innocent.” She steps out onto the porch. “CPS doesn’t just show up on my doorstep because they had nothing better to do with their day. I’m not stupid. It had to be you. You called them because you wanted revenge.”
I tug anxiously on the strap of my duffel bag. This is the part I practiced with Bear. We came up with half-truths that reflect the blame back onto them.
“I got pulled over,” I say carefully. “They said I smelled like alcohol.”
“You don’t drink. Alcohol is the devil’s work,” she says.
I recite the story I memorized, looking suitably contrite. “I fell from grace. I realized I’d made a huge mistake, but I was too scared to come back to you and admit I failed. I had been drinking. The officer who stopped me took my phone.”
Her face tightens. “And then what?”
I lift my gaze just enough. “He went through my messages.”
Her mouth flattens. “Your stupidity and carelessness brought this on us.”
My pulse pounds, but I keep my tone level. “My brother kept me from getting charged. But they confiscated my phone, saying it was part of another investigation. Rick said the police are mandated reporters and had to turn the phone over to CPS because of your messages, all the horrible things you said.”
I see it in her eyes when the reality of her situation hits home, and she realizes CPS has access to all the things she wrote. Her eyes drift closed and she curses under her breath.
That’s when my foster father appears behind her. His presence fills the doorway, rigid and controlled, his expression is tight with something far colder than anger.
