Yeah, being with Deuce is out-of-control crazy and the best sex ever, but the last few nights, I’ve sensed something different. Usually, when I let him in, we are all over each other, but now he takes his time. Kissing me, caressing my back, then finally leading me into my bedroom, and even then, his tentative moves have surprised me. The sex is amazing as always, but afterwards, even though I sense some kind of shift, I stay silent. So silent, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
The morning, sun seeps through the shade, and I startle, surprised to see Deuce still next to me. He pulls me closer, his eyes still closed. I stare at the sculpted planes of his relaxed face. He looks younger somehow. Letting his guard down, and living in the moment, same as when we have sex. So different than his usual gruffdon’t fuck with meattitude.
He shifts on the mattress, then twirls one of my curls around his finger. “Love your hair.”
Reality and my thoughts from last night filter in, and I gaze up at him, almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to tell me this has to end, especially now that the bar would be open, or he doesn’t want the other Kings to know, or he isn’t interested anymore. I’d heard all those excuses from men in some shape or form, and they always land the same way.
Cold, unfeeling and demeaning.
I push up on my elbows and turn toward him. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”
“What?” he says the word like I jogged him out of his thoughts.
“I get it.” I motion between us. “This has been great, but it’s over. You have responsibilities with The End and the Royal Flush, and you have to put them first.”
Tonight is the opening of The End, and with that would come huge responsibilities and commitment, not leaving room for anything else.
He screws up his face. “What the fuck would running those places have to do with us?”
“I just thought that?—”
“Well, you thought fuckin’ wrong.” He jackknifes into a sitting position. “I’m trying to figure out . . . I mean I’m trying to?—”
“Let me down easy? Believe me, I’m tough, you can just say it and be done with it.”
According to the Kings, they’re expecting a huge turnout tonight, and I’m excited for them, but I also know where that leaves me and Deuce. Nowhere.
“Will you please stop interrupting me? You have gotta be the most infuriating woman.”
“I’m just trying to make all this easier for you.”
“All what? You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what’s goin’ through my brain right now.”
“Yes, I do. You’re going to say it’s been great and the sex was off the charts, but it has to end ‘cause the club comes first, and women can’t interfere or get in the way of that commitment. I’ve heard it all before.”
I certainly don’t want to interfere with their success since it would be my success too. And if giving up Deuce facilitates this, then so be it.
“And where have you heard it? From that deadbeat pussy Bullet?”
When I don’t answer, he barks out a laugh.
“I’m just saying that?—”
“Will you please shut the fuck up, woman, and let me talk?”
I mash my lips together and glare at him. “Just don’t spit out bullshit that isn’t true and will never be true. And please, for the love of Harley, don’t give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t spit out bullshit even when I should.”
That’s true. He’s brutally honest, but I’m not about to admit it to him.
He straightens his spine and drags in a deep breath. “I don’t know what we got here . . . but I don’t want it to be about just fuckin’.”
Again, brutally honest.
“I also don’t have any future plan. I just know I want and need to be with you.”
“Okay.”
