23. Havoc
Havoc
“What is all this?” Aimee’s eyes widen as she peels off her helmet and takes in the picnic I had set up at the far edge of the Twisted Kings compound.
The clubhouse is barely a pinprick at this distance.
Climbing off my bike, I set both our helmets aside and grab her hand. With a swift tug, I pull her body to mine. My hand rests on the curve of her lower back, and she fits against me like she’s meant to be there.
“I told you that when I got out of the Marines, I’d ask you on that date you always refused me. Here I am, asking.”
Aimee’s brow furrows as she takes in the scene again. The blanket stretched on the ground. The picnic basket. The sun low in the sky, a breath away from sunset.
“I planned on taking you to some expensive, fancy-ass restaurant, but with everything else going on, I felt like you might prefer something quieter. ”
Plus, it’s a way to have her all to myself, which is always my preference.
She lifts her face to look at me. “We’ve already had sex. We’ve been sharing a bed… Aren’t we a little past a first date at this point?”
“When have we ever done things in order?” I grip her chin and angle her face higher. “I told you I want to do right by you, Aimee. And even if I fucked that up for a little while, I still plan on keeping that promise. Will you give me a chance?”
“With this date?”
Part of me hates that she clarifies my question because this is more than just a date to me. It’s step one in figuring out how to win her heart after I managed to fumble it for so long.
But I understand her need for boundaries, so I respect them by simply nodding in response. She’s still intent on leaving Vegas after we find Anderson, and I don’t blame her with the memories that have her waking up in tears on more nights than not.
“Will you give me a chance?” I ask again, brushing my thumb across her smooth jaw.
Her cheeks brighten as her lips press tight.
Hesitation storms in her eyes. After all she’s been through, it’s still easier for her to offer me her body than her heart, which is exactly why I wanted to do this.
I need her to know that no matter how much I enjoy fucking her, that’s not what this is to me.
It never was. Aimee has always been more.
“Yes. ”
One simple word from her lips fills my chest with the hope of a hundred dashed promises. I can picture her at an altar wearing white. I see a future laid out for us.
I’m careful not to say any of those things as I step back and put just enough distance between us that she won’t sense where my mind just slipped away to. Wrapping my hand around hers, I lead her to the blanket.
I really need to thank Ghost and Luna for helping set this up while I distracted Aimee this afternoon. Since the incident at the strip club last week, they’ve been anxious to find some way to make it up to her.
After Ghost and Chaos dragged the man who tried to grab Luna into the back room, they learned he was a former prospect of the club, looking for revenge since he didn’t get in. It’s been years, so no one remembered or recognized him. But clearly, he hadn’t forgotten.
And considering his history, he hasn’t changed.
The whole reason the Twisted Kings didn’t patch him in was because he was too aggressive with women. And there he was, grabbing for Luna without her permission. Unfortunately for him, my little firecracker saw his intent before he got the chance.
I just wish her actions had been the result of her protective nature, not trauma.
When we got back to the clubhouse, she explained to me what went through her mind at the club. She told me that when the man reached for Luna, she blacked out and saw Titan’s face. That, for a second, it was his neck beneath the blade .
It makes my palms sweat and my head throb just thinking about it.
I’m supposed to go with the club to a meeting with Titan and the Iron Sinners tomorrow to negotiate the return of Aimee’s father, but he’ll be lucky if I don’t gut him on sight at this point.
“It’s beautiful out here.” Aimee takes a seat on the blanket first, stretching her legs out.
When I sit beside her, I grab her legs and drape them over my lap because I can’t help touching her now that she lets me.
“I never thought of Vegas as pretty.” Her gaze is fixed on the horizon.
“That’s because you were always in the city growing up.” I peel open the basket of food. “If you’d let me take you on that ride sooner, maybe I could have shown you there’s more to this place.”
Her eyebrow quirks.
“Just saying.” I grin.
Although I’ve always hated the heart of the city, the one good thing about Vegas is the desert surrounding it. Especially in winter when it’s bearable.
There’s something about the middle of nowhere.
No stress.
No lights.
No people.
The dirt feels different under my boots. The air is cleaner on my tongue. I can breathe again.
And with Aimee, I’m flooded with oxygen .
“Hopefully you’re hungry.” I reach into the basket, and when I pull the food out, her eyes widen.
A laugh bursts out of her. So strong and pure, tears spring to her eyes. “You brought ham sandwiches?”
“With an obscene amount of pickles. I seem to remember you declaring that if the pickles didn’t outweigh the ham, it was a crime against your tastebuds. Don’t tell me you don’t like them anymore. They used to be your favorite.”
“No, I—” She shakes her head, and her voice is clogged with emotion. “I do. I just can’t believe you remembered that.”
“There’s not a single thing I’ve forgotten about you, Aimee Landry.” I set a napkin between us. “And I’ve got some strawberry ice cream back at the clubhouse for later. But that sure as shit would have melted out here before we got to it.”
Handing her the sandwich, she stares at it for a second before taking a tentative bite.
“Wow.” She moans, swallowing it down. “You even selected the right mustard.”
“Reagan helped because, apparently, you’re not the only mustard snob.”
She rolls her eyes but takes another bite. So I dive in myself, and while there is ham and mustard, all I taste is pickle.
“This is the most ridiculous sandwich.”
She shrugs. “You packed the food. You could have brought yourself something different. ”
I could have, and I considered it. But even if pickles aren’t my favorite, and this sandwich is borderline impossible to finish, it’s Aimee’s favorite, and I can’t get enough of her.
When I take another bite, my face must pucker because she sets her sandwich down in the basket and laughs.
“Stop it.” She grabs mine from my hand and puts it in the basket as well. “You look miserable. I’ll eat it, and you can skip straight to strawberry ice cream.”
“Is that so?” I tug Aimee’s hand and pull her onto my lap.
But even as she straddles me, my thoughts aren’t on fucking her. At least, not entirely. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her like my hands are enough to keep her safe.
The fact that she’s here at all still feels like a dream I’ll wake up from at some point.
Reaching up, I tuck her brown hair behind her ear. The curled tips rest neatly at her shoulder.
She’s perfection, and I’m desperate for this moment to stretch forever as her honey-brown eyes watch me.
“It’s weird to think this could have been our life.” Her hands cup the sides of my neck; her thumbs teasing the scruff on my jaw. “That when you got out of the Marines, we could have been this if everything else hadn’t happened.”
My throat tightens, and I wish I had something comforting to say to her, but I know any words would be just shy of enough .
“Maybe I should have accepted it back then.” Her gaze drifts in the direction the clubhouse sits on the property. “Maybe I shouldn’t have cared so much what my father thought, and it would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”
“I thought you said there’s no point considering what-ifs?” I reach up to cup her face.
“There isn’t.”
Something about her tone makes my heart plummet to my stomach. Defeat snuffs out the light in her eyes, and when they return to me, I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
Aimee quickly recovers. She shifts in my lap and clears her throat, readjusting the mask she’s so good at wearing.
“For the record, this was a wonderful date, Levi. Thank you.” Her smile is faint but genuine.
“I’m glad you liked it. Next time—”
“Next time?” she cuts me off. “Who said I’m giving you another one?”
“Why wouldn’t you when this one is perfect?”
“Perfect? Oh my god, your ego is out of control.” A devious smile spreads across her face. “The date isn’t over yet. Maybe I’ll change my mind. We haven’t even gotten to the goodnight kiss. That’s what makes or breaks the date as far as I’m concerned.”
“You want me to kiss you, Aimee?” I flip us until she’s under me, and I’m resting between her legs. “All you had to do was ask.”
At that, my lips land on hers, and we could be anywhere.
The heart of the city.
The middle of the clubhouse .
Nothing matters—not even the sandwiches with too many pickles and not enough ham that she loves so much.
I kiss her like it’s our first kiss on our first date. I kiss her like it’s the last first kiss I’ll offer. I kiss her, knowing her lips are the only ones I ever want on mine again. I just have to figure out how to convince her to stay.