“Why not? It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose. And let’s face it, I’m so over bikers.” I make sure to look Drifter in the eye, a smirk playing on my lips. He glares back, his face turning red as he grips his bottle of water tighter.
Red lets out a surprised squeal, dragging my attention back to her as Rock swings her over his shoulder, landing a hard slap to her backside.
“You shouldn’t be looking at other men,” he growls.
“I’m doing my girl a duty,” she explains, laughing. “There’s nothing in it, but if that’s what gets your blood pumping, maybe I should do it more often.”
Rock lets out a guttural growl and bites against her hip. She laughs harder, slapping his back and kicking her legs wildly as he carries her off upstairs.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DRIFTER
Iwipe my blood-stained knuckles on a towel as I climb the stairs from the basement. I knew the fucker would come in handy to stem the overwhelming rage I feel.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve done this, and there is no one else to blame.
I deserve every disgusted glance and every cold shoulder she gives me.
Winning her back wasn’t proving easy so far, but living without her makes my life worthless.Pity I didn’t see that before I fucked Siren.
Since it happened, I haven’t slept properly. I replay it over and over in my head, torturing myself because I have no fucking excuse, no reason for it. I was drunk, that’s it, but I’d been plenty drunk around Siren and never once thought about fucking her, let alone actually doing it.
Hell has been my entire world since we were teenagers, and I’ve never once looked at another woman. And then I went and blew it all.
I tuck the blood-stained towel in my jeans pocket as I walk towards the kitchen. Mumma Bear is sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. She refuses to read the news on her phone, even though I’ve shown her how easy it is. She’s so stuck in her ways.
She looks up over the newspaper and smiles. It’s sincere, but I see the disappointment hiding there.
She pulls out the chair beside her, indicating for me to sit. I lower myself and before she can speak, I groan. “I know.”
She places a light hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’ve spent weeks avoiding her, knowing how disappointed she is. I’ve let my wife down, along with the rest of the damn club.
“Do you?” she asks, placing the newspaper on the table. “You broke that girl’s heart. You’re no better than the men before you.”
“Fuck,” I stand abruptly, the chair scraping across the tiled floor.
“Sit your arse back down,” she snaps.
I hesitate, my stance stiff as I glare at her. My men wouldn’t get away with talking to me like this.
I don’t sit down, but I lean against the kitchen counter. She shakes her head and stands too.
“You need to make this right.”
“How? Rochelle doesn’t want me anymore, and I don’t blame her.”
Her expression softens. “You need to show her. Prove that you love her and that this was a terrible mistake that you’llneverrepeat.” She snatches the blood-stained towel out of my pocket and places it in the bin. “You can’t keep beating the shit outta someone else for your own fucking mistakes.”
I’m the President of this club, and part of me wants to bark that I’ll do whatever the fuck I like. But I’ve got too much respect for her to throw that in her face.
I storm out of the room, knowing she’s fucking right. And that’s what stings the most.
As I push through the kitchen doors, I come face-to-face with Hell.
For a second, I swear this club is full of women who want to gouge my eyes out and the universe is throwing them all in my path.
I move to step around her, but she catches my arm. It’s the lightest touch, and it hits harder than any punch. Her fingers on my skin remind me of everything I’ve lost, and somehow give me the smallest flicker of hope that maybe I haven’t lost it completely.
