I sighed. No matter how much I explained it, she would never be able to understand.
“I’d roughed a few of them up too. Then we scarpered. When I realised what Demon had done…”
“You didn’t help the guy?”
“Not that one.” Sophie frowned, those grey eyes darkening. “We weren’t even eighteen. Kids. And not with thelife experience we have now. Now I would have done things differently.”
I wouldn’t have needed to fight. And if I did, those people wouldn’t go to the cops. But that didn’t need to be said.
“We were on camera in that bar. At one point I must have turned, and they caught my face. I already had a record.”
“I remember,” Sophie muttered, her eyes falling to the bottle of beer again, as her fingers picked at the label. “My dad hated that.”
That wasn’t the only thing her Dad hated. Another thing I wouldn’t say in front of her.
“The police kicked my door in the next day. Nearly gave my Granda a fucking heart attack. They dragged me out. Roughed me up. Claimed I was resisting. If you call resisting asking if I could at least put some pants on before the whole street saw my naked arse.” I tried to smile. To make light of it, but Sophie’s face was hard, so I continued. “At the station, they wanted me to hand over the Demon. Apparently, the camera hadn’t got much of the detail on his cut. They wanted our club’s name. His name. Everything. I said absolutely nothing. I was in court in a week. I didn’t see the outside world until three years later.”
“What was the conviction?” she asked, but I could hear the reluctance in those words. A question she felt she needed to know the answer to, but didn’t really want it.
“GBH. Five years. Got out in three.”
“You didn’t think about telling me what happened. Finding me. Explaining why you just vanished?”
“Why? I wrote. You never answered.”
“I didn’t get them.”
“But I didn’t know that. All I knew was that you’d turned your back. That your father got what he wanted.”
Sophie went silent again. Her eyes dropping back to the label now half picked off the beer bottle.
I closed the gap on the sofa between us, my hand covering hers, stopping the relentless picking. She squeezed her eyes shut, opening them a second or so later, her gaze returning to me, composure returning.
“I waited in the rain,” she whispered, staring straight ahead like I wasn’t there, my hand on top of hers. Her skin warm under mine. “I waited in the rain until I was soaked and shivering. My dad always said you’d get bored of me eventually. That I would never be the high you needed.”
I squeezed my hand tighter over hers, the action mirroring the feeling in my chest.
“I never got bored, Soph. I got arrested. And I never stopped loving you.”
The words hung between us. For a moment again, neither of us moved. Until I did. Reaching up, I cupped the side of her face, immediately scattering countless supercharged emotions into every corner of my body. But I swallowed them back, desperate not to lose control. Sophie lifted her eyes, locking them straight onto mine. And the bottom fell out of my stomach.
I leaned forward, bringing her face to mine. Knowing the risk I was taking as I pushed my lips to hers. She hesitated. A half second that felt like a whole hour, and then slowly she pushed into me, her lips moving and grazing.
Soft. Too soft. Like she didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust me. Something in my chest cracked open at that, and I tightened my grip on her face, just enough to hold her there, and kiss her properly. Not gentle. Not careful. Real.
She made a small sound against my mouth, barely there, almost a breath, but I felt it all the way through me. Like I used to. Like something I’d known before I knew anything else. Her lips parted tentatively. Not an invitation just yet, but like she knew she was stepping into something familiar and forbidden all at once, and not sure whether she should.
And then that breath came again. Acceptance. Surrender. Her tongue met mine in a different rhythm. I moved my hand around the back of her head, my fingers curling into her hair, and she exhaled against my lips as our tongues moved fast. Striking. Feeling. Tasting. Warm. And for a second, I wasn’t here. I was back there. Rain on her skin. Her laughing into my mouth. My hands tangled in her hair like I’d never let her go. My grip tightened. Because Ihadlet her go.
Sophie moved slightly. A tiny noise against my mouth. And I knew she’d felt it too. She’d felt me shift. Felt the weight of me, of us. Her fingers curled into my cut, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, and fuck, was that about to crush me. She kissed me harder then. Less hesitation. More need. Like she was trying to find something she’d lost. Or prove it was still there.
I met her there. Matched it. Took it. Gave it back. Every movement slower than it should’ve been. Like we were both dragging it out, refusing to rush it, because this, this mattered more than anything that came after. Her breath caught against my lips, and I felt it, every tiny reaction, every flicker of something breaking through that control she held so tight.
I eased back just enough to look at her. Big mistake. Her eyes were already on me. Not guarded. Not composed. Gone. And I knew that look. Knew exactly what it meant. Because I felt it too.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan’s beard scratched at my face, the ring in his lip applying pressure against the heat of my mouth, every fevered movement sending a charged vibration rushing across my skin. His lips plucked mine. Forceful. Strong. His tongue dipping in and out, fighting me, matching every move I made as if this were a game. He pulled back slightly. Not quite letting me go, but enough to drag his tongue across my bottom lip, his teeth grazing afterwards. And I shivered, remembering how he liked to tease. The nibbles against my flesh, the tug of my lip betweenhis teeth. It was the same. Except for the beard and the metal ring that pierced his mouth.
