Chapter 17 Willa
Willa
Dean flicks on a light as he closes the door behind us. Dust hangs heavy in the air, visible with the light streaming from overhead.
“Who lives here?” I wipe my finger over a table, swiping away the dust.
“No one. It was Soul’s father’s house. But it’s his house now.” Dean leads me down a hallway to the left. “He keeps the sheets changed and the rooms somewhat clean since people crash here from time to time, but it’s been a while since the last person stayed.”
“Soul doesn’t mind us being here?”
Dean shakes his head. “Nah. He never comes by this house. He couldn’t care less.”
“But you said it was his father’s?”
“They weren’t close.” Dean shrugs. “And since Soul put a bullet in the back of his head, he doesn’t like revisiting the past.”
My eyes widen, trying to imagine what could have happened that would make Soul kill his father. I wonder if that’s why I’ve sensed something darker hiding behind his smile.
Dean squeezes my hand. “Soul’s dad was a piece of shit who turned on his own club. Don’t worry, he deserved it.”
He deserved it.
He says it like it’s nothing. Like the club has its own means of delivering justice that exists outside of the law. It’s a little too much like home, even if I understand it.
“I can handle going back to the clubhouse if that’s where you need to be. I understand,” I say as we walk past a number of rooms with empty beds.
Even with so many room choices, Dean doesn’t offer to let me sleep in my own, and I don’t say anything because it feels good to be beside him.
“It looked like you could use a break from that place.”
“Sorry.” I frown.
He squeezes my hand. “Don’t be.”
“You probably have things you need to deal with. I can always stay at Reagan’s house.”
“The same shit will be there tomorrow. I’ll deal with it then.” He leads me into a room with a king-size bed. Pale-green walls and sun-bleached furniture date the decor. Soul might keep the house clean for people to sleep in as needed, but it’s clear he hasn’t bothered changing anything.
These walls might as well be haunted.
I glance around, noticing this room is dusted, and there’s a perfumy scent. “This room is cleaner than it was downstairs.”
Dean closes the door, leaning against it. “I crash here from time to time when I need a break.”
“You don’t like living at the clubhouse?”
“It’s not that.” He strips his cut off and hangs it on a hook on the wall. “But after prison… sometimes I just need space from people. A year in a cage surrounded by others will do that to you.”
“I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not telling you so you can feel sorry for me. We both knew I’d end up there someday one way or another.”
Even if I did know that, I don’t like thinking about Dean facing a life sentence for taking the fall for his club. He has no sense of self-preservation. Always protecting those around him.
I sit on the bed, wound tight and sitting up tall, while Dean is the picture of calm composure.
He strips off his shoes and shirt, getting comfortable like it’s every other night, and I can’t help staring at his perfectly carved chest. My fingers ache to trace his muscles, so I grip the blanket tighter.
Dean’s always been nice to look at. His strong stature was built through hard work and dedication. But to see how he’s grown into himself. All muscle and strength. He’s practically pornographic as he walks toward me in low-slung jeans and a wicked smile.
“I told you my shit. Now it’s your turn.” He stops in front of me.
I tear my eyes off his abs and look up to find him watching me. “What do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you seem to give a shit that my brother fucks around on you?”
“Dean—”
“Answer the question, Willa. You accepted his proposal, so you must give a crap.”
“You knew we got engaged?” I swallow hard when he nods, and the hurt in his eyes is a presence in this room. “It wasn’t… It’s not… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” He grabs my chin when I try to look away, forcing my face to his. “For a girl who spends all her time telling me I should care about my own well-being, why don’t you care about yours? You deserve better than him screwing around on you. Why don’t you seem to give a fuck?”
“Because I never cared about him.” I meant to lie, but looking into his eyes, I can’t. “Being with Kincaid was never like that. It made sense, and it made my dad happy, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t love.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Sometimes you do what you need to for the sake of others.” I roll my shoulders back. “You get that.”
“You told me you wanted him. You needed him.”
“We were eighteen, Dean. And after all that shit that happened…” I shake my head, and he lets my face go. “I was reaching for anything to keep it together. You dealt with it by running away, and I dealt with it the best way I knew how, by shoving it down deeper.”
“You were with him for years.”
“I know, and we tried. I’m not going to lie to you and say I didn’t hope it would work out with Kincaid because it would have been a lot easier if it had. But we were never on that level with each other. We couldn’t connect the pieces.”
“He still could’ve had the balls to be faithful to you.”
“Says the guy who spends all his time at a strip club.”
“I don’t cheat on women.” His voice is stone-cold, anger brewing in his eyes. “I do what the fuck I want because I’m single and I can, but I don’t commit to a woman and then fuck around on her. There’s a difference.”
There is, and me trying to compare Dean and his brother is a lame attempt at convincing myself why Dean is still a bad idea for me. But it’s not working.
“Well, I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.” I lift my chin. “So long as Kincaid was fucking whoever he wanted, he left me alone. I preferred it that way. We had an understanding.”
“Then why’d you finally end it?”
“Because I found him with Eden.” Emotion ties a rope around my heart and squeezes.
While Dean’s gaze turns lethal. “Fucking bitch.”
“She’s my sister, Dean.”
“Don’t care. I never liked her.”
That much, I know.
Dean hated how my parents treated her differently. How we were held to different standards since I was the oldest and Eden was the baby. I never cared for it either. But she was my sister, and I protected her. Until she screwed my fiancé.
Maybe I should be grateful when it gave me the courage to finally leave. When it led me back to Dean.
“I thought I hated my brother for the shit he’s doing to Grandpa’s land, but I swear if I see him again—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Dean. None of it does.” It’s the truth because I’m finally free. “They did me a favor. And maybe now I can right my wrongs.”
“What wrongs would those be, Willa?”
“Choosing him.”
It might be a mistake to admit that. But here, in this room, with Dean towering over me, the truth spills out. I chose wrong. Even if I did it for all the right reasons back then.
“You finally regret that?” He tucks my hair behind my ear.
“I did the second you drove away.” I wet my lips, and his gaze falls to my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
Dean hums, still staring at my lips. “That wasn’t your finest moment, princess. But it was good for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Now you get to make it up to me.”
His heated gaze warms me to the core. My heart races. Blood thunders through me.
“Is that so?” I scoot back on the bed slightly, wrangling the little bit of confidence I have left. “At the club, you made it sound like you needed a minute. Are you finally done making me wait, Dean Graham?”
He leans over me on the bed, planting his fists on either side so our mouths hover an inch apart. “Depends. Are you using me to check the fuck out of your life, or are you finally ready to admit you’re not the good girl they think you are? I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you want to be bad for me. That you’re desperate for my cock. Maybe then I’ll feed it to you.”
Heat pools at my core. I’ve already had his mouth on me. I know how it feels to be in his arms. But to hear him say it in such clear terms has my skin flushed. I’m warm all over.
“I’m desperate for all of you.”
Dean smirks, brushing his lips over mine, but not kissing me. “Are you prepared to prove it?”
“Yes.”
That’s a dangerous promise to make to a man like Dean Graham. He’s rough, reckless. He’s chaos. But that’s exactly what I crave. It’s what I’ve always needed and been too scared to admit. I don’t want sweet and uncomplicated. I want him. I want to feel alive again.
I reach for Dean’s belt, slowly slipping it through the loops.
But the moment I move to tug it all the way off, he steps back, denying me.
“You seem to be under the impression you’re in control here, Willa.
You’re not. You had your turn saying where the lines are drawn between us, and I accepted it.
But it’s my turn now. And when you’re in my bed, you’re going to do what I say. Understood?”
I bite my lower lip. “Understood.”
“Good. Then get on your knees, princess.” He waits for me to slide off the bed and kneel before him, watching my every movement.
When I’m settled, he drags his hand through the side of my hair, pulling it away from my face.
“I don’t want the good girl you’ve been pretending to be for them all these years. I want the truth. Are you going to be my good little slut and take me how I want you?”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“Are you going to let me use this pretty body like you’re my perfect whore, to fuck and play with as I please?”
“Yes.” My belly is on fire.
It’s completely degrading, and I want more.
Maybe I think I deserve it, or maybe it’s just that I know that’s how Dean is. Unapologetic. A little controlling. And I don’t want him treating me any differently than he does anything else.
I want him to unleash on me.