Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
By the time Red parked at his house, unloaded and put away the groceries, and gave Valentina a quick tour of his place, he was ready to get it the fuck over with. Yeah, he wanted to plant his face between his woman’s thighs and hear her scream his name as she came, but he…well, he couldn’t do that, not with this utmost focus, if there were still issues between them.
Fuck, he hated being the responsible type, but he never shirked what was right in order to do what he wanted.
Case in point, you fucking other women, and now you’re having to deal with your own bullshit.
Leading Val from the kitchen and into the living room, he pointed to the middle seat of his six-seater brown leather couch. It matched other shit in his place, but he didn’t care about that, he just knew it was comfortable.
“You want something to drink?” he asked, running down a list of beverages.
“Definitely wouldn’t mind some vodka,” Val replied, looking a little pale, though she was normally pale. Paler. And he knew why. She wasn’t looking forward to this part of the conversation, either; the part where they laid it all out. And by the end, would they be closer together or further apart?
Fuck, he hated the not-knowing, but what he did know was that he wasn't letting Val leave until things were good between them—as just friends or as a biker and his old lady.
He grabbed two glasses and poured vodka into them, one for Val and one for himself; he needed a stiff drink for what was coming and because of the conversation he’d had with Frost.
Red respected the man, would follow him into war, but he could not sit by and watch as he slowly destroyed his marriage. Emily was an amazing club queen, a loyal wife, a wonderful, involved mother to their fraternal twins, Sorsha and Warwick, and an all-around kickass woman. To see that Frost had lost sight of what he had and was neglecting what had helped him become the club president he was, was like a kick in the teeth. Red had confronted Frost about what he’d seen in the office, but Frost cut him off, telling him to mind his own business, that his personal life was none of Red’s concern. Not wanting to get into shit right then with Val waiting on him, he informed Frost that his time was coming, and he’d have to face the wrath of the club if he kept shitting on their queen. They were an MC; misogynistic, violent, profane, and barely civilized, but one thing they were not was disloyal—to the club or their women.
And that was a home truth he was reckoning right then; Val believing he’d been disloyal to her, and him subconsciously resenting her desire to hide behind her computer rather than set aside her fear and be with him.
Back in the living room, he handed Val her glass, and she shot it back like it was literal water.
Grunting then hissing, she squawked, “Yum,”—cough—“lighter fluid.”
Grinning at her, he took her glass and placed it on the coffee table, then took a seat next to her. His knee brushed against hers and his cock stirred in his pants.
Motherfuck! He was getting hard from just bumping joints, he couldn’t imagine what her touching his dick would be like.
Focus, dammit! Talk now, fuck later!
Tossing back his own vodka, he put the glass on the coffee table next to Val’s, then turned to her to see her staring at him, her head cocked, her gaze uncertain but determined, and her cheeks flushed from the booze. Probably.
The “lighter fluid” burning the back of his throat, he swallowed it, hissed, then smacked his lips. It was rough shit, but it was good shit.
Her gaze on him, he leaned forward, his body attuned to Val’s like a heat seeking missile. He reached out and took the hands from her lap and placed them on his, his larger hands around hers, keeping her in place. Walking with her at the grocery store had been a revelation; he could see their future—walking hand-in-hand, her tiny hand in his, trusting him to lead her. They’d be forty—sixty—eighty, still holding hands, still in love with one another. Also, holding her hand kept her close—not that she would wander off, but more like he didn’t believe she was real, that after yearning for her for so long, she was right there beside him.
Steeling himself, he opened his mouth and let the words fall out. “I’m sorry, Valentina.” He felt her stiffen beside him, and she tried to pull her hands back. He held them tighter. “I know there’s no number of words that will ever make up for disappointing you, making you feel as though I betrayed you. I heard what you said, what you felt, what you believe about what I’ve done, and it fucking kills me that you think I would ever want another woman once I finally have you.”
“What does having me mean, though, Red? Once you’ve fucked me? Once I finally admit we’re together? Or?—”
He squeezed her hands, fighting the urge to take her mouth and speak with his lips in a different way. He’s always been a man of action, so using words was harder than he hoped it would be. “It means that once you and I agree that we’re committed, in a committed relationship, and that we will be loyal and faithful and owned by one another, there will never be another. That’s what that means.”
He didn’t take his eyes from her face, watching her as she digested what he said. He didn’t care how long he had to sit there, he was willing to wait until the moon fell from the sky; he just wanted her to believe him, to forgive him.
To forgive you, she has to know it all.
“I think a part of the reason I was so obtuse about what “wait” meant was because I resented the fact that you wanted to wait in the first place.”
Her face screwed up in an angry frown, but he kept going.
“And I don’t mean just the sex, Val, I mean that you were putting my happiness on hold because you didn’t trust me at my word. I don’t know…” he sighed, “I think I knew, deep down, that your fear was about trusting me and not just about you being self-conscious about your looks. You didn’t trust that I would love you after seeing you, and that fucking hurt, baby. That tore me up, and my mind…well, you saw where it went. It took the easy way out, satiating my body while blocking out my pain, my disappointment. Yeah, I was a fucking asshole for continuing to sleep with other women, and many would consider that cheating, but…do you? Do you honestly think that what I did was cheating?”
She looked stricken, as if he’d gutted her. Shaking her head slowly, her eyes wide, she rasped, “Damian….” God, his name from her mouth was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, and he wanted to hear it for the rest of their lives. Val swallowed, closed her eyes, and took a slow, deep breath. She held the breath, opened her eyes, then let it out, before saying, “I want to say yes, just because, realistically, you were fucking other women.”
He nodded. “I get that.”
She continued, “But…no…I don’t think you were cheating, not really.” Slipping her hands from beneath his—he let her—she rubbed her forehead. “I want to put all the blame on you, because it fucking hurt when I realized what you’d been doing. I still do because it ripped my heart out.”
God, he couldn’t not hold her. In a blink, he pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and burrowed his face into her neck, needing to fill his lungs with her sunshine summer scent.
“You were right…I didn’t trust that you would still love me after you saw me for that first time. I let years of fear and humiliation and disappointment cloud what should have been something special and wonderful between us.”
“I get that, too, baby. Years of mental and emotional abuse, bullying—healing from that shit takes time.”
She snorted. “I think that the mean voices will always be in my head, telling me I’m too fat, too ugly, not good enough, especially for someone who looks like you.”
He pressed a kiss to the pulse beneath her ear and hummed. She shuddered against him, which only made his cock harder.
Fuck, this was definitely not the time. But later….
“Doesn’t what I think and what I feel matter?” he asked, pulling back to meet her gaze.
She furrowed her brow, her eyes filling with regret. “Yes, of course, it does.”
“Then listen to me when I tell you that you are the most beautiful, sensual, attractive woman I have ever met. That when I look at you, I get hard. When I hear your voice, I get hard. When I simply fucking think about you, I get hard. I want to be with you more than I want anything else in this world, so please —” he kissed her lips, one—two—three times— “ignore that voice. Hear my voice, see my face, feel me .”
She sighed, melting into him.
“I’ll try,” she murmured.
“So…am I forgiven? Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?” he asked, a plea in his voice.
Her autumn eyes peered into his and he waited for her to answer; to either kill him or give him life.
Finally, she said, “I forgive you, Damian, and I’m sorry, too, for letting my fear get in the way of what we could have.”
Relief filled him, making his body loosen. And suddenly, his focus was no longer on making the woman in his lap listen and hear him. Now, his entire focus was making up for lost time; they should have done this weeks ago, but they’d both dropped the ball.
Dropping his voice, he nuzzled her jaw, placing a soft kiss right beside her mouth.
“So, does that mean you’re mine now?” he asked, his voice hitching on the word “mine,” because, fuck, it made his beast roar.
“Only if you’re mine,” she breathed, her voice husky. Trembling against him, she sucked in air, then admitted, “I’ve been dreaming about this for months; being in your arms, your scent all around me…you whispering filthy things in my ear as you take off my clothes….”
He smiled, the need to strip her naked burning through his blood. “Well then, my Daisy, I guess it’s time to make your fantasies come true.” Every. Single. One.
“O-okay,” she spluttered.
Sliding his hands down her back, he stopped them just shy of that juicy ass. “And what else did you fantasize about, baby?”
“That…that you took my clothes off but…but you didn’t care about the scars. You kissed them.” Her voice was heavy, as though they were forced through a tight throat, as though she was scared of the words themselves.
He growled, kissing her neck, then running his nose along her jaw to kiss her collarbone. “Yeah?” She nodded, moaning. “There isn’t an inch of your body I don’t love, my Daisy. There isn’t a single line or curve or bump or hollow that I won’t worship, memorize, kiss, and adore. And there never will be. You don’t seem to understand yet, but you will; if I can’t touch you, I would cut off my hands. If I can’t kiss you, I would sew my mouth shut. If I can’t see you, I’d pluck out my own eyes—there is no purpose, no meaning, no reality in which you are not everything to me. You just have to believe it.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes as his words settled into her chest, wrapping themselves around her heart.
You just have to believe it….
And, God, she wanted to…more than anything.
That means trusting him after everything he’s done. It means forgiving him, learning to move on, and putting it behind you.
Could she do that? Again, she really wanted to.
Over the last week, her heart was battered, bruised, torn, and run through a woodchipper. After overhearing Red at Cool Hands, she never thought she’d recover, that that was the end of all she’d ever wanted; her dreams of an undying love, of a family, of growing old beside a man who was devoted to her. After watching the videos and seeing the hair ties, then the revelation of what that meant, she’d been numb and yet devastated, angry and yet dejected, humiliated and yet defiant— “How dare he fuck other women?” was quickly followed by, “he fucked other women because I’m not good enough.” Hell, she’d been a mess, and she was still struggling to make sense of everything, but one thing she knew for certain, in that moment, something extraordinary had happened.
Red was hers. She was his.
And he had that look in his eyes that said she was about to know what a diesel engine felt like after a long, hard revving .
But….
“I want this with you, Red, but…there’s one last thing I need to get off my chest.”
His gaze filled with understanding, his expression softening.
“What is it, my Daisy?” his voice was gentle, coaxing.
She sighed, and answered, “I…I can’t deal with the women?—”
He furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to protest, but she slapped a hand over his lips, shaking her head.
“Let me finish, or this isn’t going to go the way you want it to,” she said, squirming her ass against his growing erection for emphasis. He grunted, quickly clamping his mouth shut.
Good boy.
“You know how my brain works, how I see things and they stay in my memory forever.” He nodded, uncertainty in his eyes. He wanted to know where this was going. “Well, after I overheard you and your brothers at Cool Hands, I…well, I went home and doom scrolled through your Insta Reels and OnlyFans, watching every single one…and taking note of the hair ties.”
He stiffened beneath her. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Her stomach swooped with apprehension, angry and agonizing about having to say this shit at all.
“I remember each woman…and which hair tie belongs to which.”
“Fuck,” he muttered again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Val, baby….”
“And I know there’s more you didn’t film, because that just makes sense—you’re a male in his prime, and you like sex. We weren’t committed to each other yet, no promises were made, but still…the pain is there. Seeing those women in the videos, knowing what was going to happen once the camera was off….” Her guts roiled, her heart squeezing as the blood in her veins became thick. “Then…the comments on your post about the tattoo….”
“Goddamn, fuck—I never should have posted that shit,” he barked, his voice a menacing growl.
She offered him a smile. “No, you should have; seeing that tattoo was amazing as hell. It’s beautiful…and it really boosted my ego.” She blinked, her smile turning down. “Until I read the comments. Those women were brutal, and the worst part was knowing that they’d been with you….”
He pulled her tighter against his chest, pressing a hard, lingering kiss against her forehead. In that kiss, she felt his regret, his remorse, his anger. “I am so fucking sorry about that, Val. That isn’t why I did that.”
“I know. You can’t control what the trolls do, Red. I just wanted you to know that the women…I don’t like knowing about them, and I really hope to never actually meet any of those women in person.”
“You won’t,” he asserted vehemently, though she knew that they both realized he couldn’t actually promise that. There were a lot of towns and boroughs in the valley cities of northeastern Pennsylvania, but they actually all functioned as small gossip hubs—everyone knowing everyone else, running into them. Val knew that the probability of running into one of Red’s conquests while out and about with him was higher than she’d like. What would she do if that happened? She had no fucking idea.
“And I know I need to grow a thicker skin if I’m going to be the girlfriend to the interweb’s most popular thirst trap.”
Again, he tensed beneath her.
“You…you’re okay with me continuing with the @RedDevilDog persona?” he asked, incredulity and a smattering of hope in his tone.
Was she okay with him being an embodiment of gluttony, lust, and sex for hundreds of thousands and possibly millions of women? No, she was not. Was she okay with making the man she loved give up something that made him happy? Also no.
Rock…hard place.
Shaking her head once, she answered, “I’ll work on it.”
His lips thinned, his jaw working as he ground his teeth. “Val, baby?—”
“Not right now,” she interrupted, “let’s talk about that later.”
She let her weight settle right over the long, thick prod poking her ass cheek. She leaned into him, letting her big tits rub against his chest as she wiggled in his lap.
His breath hitched, making his rock-hard chest expand.
Message sent and received.
She watched as his eyes darkened to cobalt, his face hardening as his massive body seemed to vibrate.
In a move the defied the law of physics, Red pushed to his feet with her in his arms, and didn’t even break stride as he headed through the house, down the hallway to his bedroom.
This was it—it was finally happening…but was she ready to bare it all?
Red didn’t give her time to ruminate because the second he stepped over the threshold into his bedroom, he growled, “Mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”