Chapter Twenty-Three
Iwas having the time of my life, and I know that sounds insane, but these guys were all mouth, and I needed something to get me out of my head.
I’d been dealing with intense emotions and worry about Glory for so long, and I wanted to get it all out of me, so I could be what she needed me to be in the future.
Sure, I’d taken a hit to the side of my head that had my ear ringing relentlessly, but it felt good. Sometimes we need a few hard hits to wake us up.
“Oi, fucker, stop crawling away,” I grabbed the guy’s foot and dragged him back. Why the hell was he wussing out when he started all this?
I straddled his back, grabbing his hair in my fist and dragging him up.
“I thought we were just Phoenix pussies, man. You think you’re better than us? You’re not good enough to wipe their asses. You have no idea who you’re fucking with.”
“Cunt, this is just the beginning,” he gritted out, slamming an elbow back at me. Amateur.
I climbed off him, kneeing the back of his head, and stomping on his fingers.
“You wish you were Phoenix material. You’re nothing but the shit they wipe off their shoes.”
I turned to the rest of the brawling men.
“Okay, who’s next?”
That’s when I realised there were more Phoenix cuts among the men, and they were already dragging subdued assholes outside and straightening up the fallen chairs.
Micro was over by the bar, amiably chatting to the landlord.
“You have trouble with them again, give me a call on this number. You’ve got our backup if you need it.”
Nice. Building bridges for the club, good move.
I watched Rocket return, smoothing his hair back and straightening his cut.
Fucker. I didn’t even bother trying to smooth this fucking prospect crap I was wearing, and know none of those assholes missed that fact. They definitely used it to rile me up.
“Where are the women?”
Rocket pointed to the corner table, where V and Glory were sitting down, giggling at something Stag was saying. Stag? Fuck. Not him.
I headed straight over there, because he was definitely the biker most likely to offend.
“Here he is. Nice moves there, prospect. I was gonna join in, but you fuckers had all the fun without me.”
I crouched beside Glory, checking her over while she seemed to do the same to me. She looked unhurt, and grinned widely at me.
“You’d be so proud of me! I threatened to punch a guy in the dick!”
V was laughing, one hand over her mouth, but she was nodding vigorously.
“Ha, love that,” Stag said in response, and for some reason it made me bristle. She wasn’t saying it for his entertainment, she was saying it for mine.
She pressed a palm against my cheek, stroking my skin with her thumb.
“You enjoyed the fight, I can see it in you. I’ve never seen you like that. It’s like pure exhilaration.”
“It’s a good way to get out some aggression.”
“Well, there are better ways for that, brother,” Stag said with a wink at the girls, lifting out of the chair and yelling out something borderline obscene to another brother. Ugh. The guy was a bit of a dipshit at times.
“Wanna get out of here, babe?” Rocket was already dragging V out of her seat.
“Someone’s horny,” she said with a giggle, and he shrugged, unashamed of how fighting fired up his body. Hell, I felt a lot of what he was feeling too. It was a surge of endorphins that came from winning the fight, and Glory seemed to be feeling that thrill too.
“We were in the middle of a conversation,” I said idly to Rocket, but I was stroking Glory’s cheek now, and her eyes were fixed on mine in a way that sent even more fire to the parts of me that I didn’t want my brothers aware of.
“I’ll call you, and we can girl talk later,” he murmured, leading V outside with him.
“We should go too, right?” Was I leaning closer to Glory? I felt like I was.
“Prospect. A word.”
Oh fuck. I pressed my forehead against Glory’s. “I’ll be fast. Don’t come down from this feeling just yet. Enjoy it.” Did I just practically beg her to get horny for me? Jesus.
“Yeah, Pres?”
“You guys made a bit of a mess here,” he said, gesturing to the smashed bottles and glasses from our table, and the one next to it. Our brothers had picked up fallen chairs and stuff, but there was spilled drink too, and I could already feel what was coming here.
“Oh hell.”
“Yep. Get on it. I want this place shipshape.”
Cockblocking fucker. I took the broom he suddenly brandished at me, and he pointed to other cleaning supplies already resting by the wall. I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, was I?
“This’ll take ages, Pres.” Was I grumbling? Damn right, Glory was feeling things right now, maybe things that related to me, and letting that all fade away? That fucking hurt.
“You’d think you’d stop whining and just get on with it then.”
He slapped my back and started heading for the door, but he paused about halfway and glanced over his shoulder at me.
“Nice work today, prospect. I hear you were fully endorsing your colours, and that’s what I’m looking for.”
I watched him leave, two emotions warring inside of me, frustration at being stuck with the cleanup, alone by the way, and warmth filling me at the words of praise from my President.
Prospect or not, I respected the hell out of him, and the colours.
I’d take this for now, because it was part of the bigger picture, but now poor Glory was stuck here with me. She got up and joined me.
“They’re making you clean up… Prospect?”
I leaned on the broom, feeling morose and pouty.
“Yeah, this prospect thing really sucks.”
She grinned, heading over to grab the dustpan. “You’ve been through it before, and you did it. You’ll be fine. Now, let’s get this cleanup done, so we can get out of here.”
“What?”
“Faster with two of us, right?” Fuck yeah.
Glory
It took us an hour to clean up broken glass, and mop up spilled drinks, but the landlord was kind enough to give us each a free drink as a thank you.
The buzz of the fight had died off, but my attraction to Henley was just intensifying by the hour.
He’d been beside me, in my life, for so long, but it felt like I’d only seen a fraction of who he really was.
There was so much depth and heart to him, but those cute little petulant moments, and his tendency to ramble, were adorable.
He was all man, but with just enough light-heartedness to make him a pleasure to be around.
All one or the other would be the wrong fit for me, but I think he might be just right.
Going on his motorcycle with him was something I was fast beginning to love.
Being wrapped around his strong body as he masterfully controlled the vehicle felt right.
It felt like it was where I was supposed to be.
Was it weird to be this close to him? No.
I thought it might feel weird, but the few times we’d been pressed up close, or when we’d kissed, I felt like the underlying friendship was making things so much more intense and rewarding.
I was fully comfortable with him, and that just made things easier.
Maybe a little too easy to fall head over heels for him, but hadn’t I been mostly there before Sean?
Wasn’t it just a reawakening of unrequited feelings from way back?
Even if he was now telling me they were always returned?
“I’m cooking tonight, sweetheart. What do you fancy?”
I watched him remove his leather jacket, slipping that cut back on over his shirt, and felt a little shiver of anticipation run down my spine. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry for food at all.
“You.”
He froze in the doorway, glancing at me over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the wooden doorframe so tightly I could see his skin whitening with the pressure.
“What?”
“You.” I wasn’t about to back down now. I knew what I wanted, and it was him. Would he give me what I wanted, or had he stopped feeling it in the time it took to clean up and come home.
He turned slowly, dragging a hand through his long dark hair.
“Are you sure?”
Duh. I grinned, sliding my jacket off and letting it hit the floor around my feet.
“So sure. Are you going to turn me down?”
“Fuck no!” He moved fast, lifting me against him as his lips touched mine, and softness turned to intensity in split seconds. We were breathing each other’s air, our tongues writhing together, and none of it was enough. It was hot, it was beautiful, but I wanted more.
“Please,” I breathed between kisses, “please. Please.”
“Upstairs,” he replied, lowering me down by the stairs and swatting my ass.
“I’m right behind you, sweetheart.”
Yes! Oh god yes. I ran up the stairs, hesitating in the hallway between our rooms. A low chuckle behind me was my only warning before I was swept up into his arms and he carried me into his room, kicking the door closed.
“Now, what was it you were saying? Something like please please please?” He grinned wickedly, and backed me up to the bed. “What parts of you are you wanting me to please?”
I dropped down onto the bed, trying to pull him with me, but he hesitated.
“Glory…”
“Don’t. Please don’t change your mind or overthink this. Hasn’t this been brewing for a long time? Years? Haven’t we both wanted each other and suffered the hell of unrequited love for too long?”
“It was never unrequited, Glory,” he gasped out, “Never! I always wanted you.”
I leaned back on my elbows and raised an eyebrow.
“And now you have me. So why aren’t you, like, literally having me yet?”
Henley started chuckling, lifting off his prospect cut and setting it aside with a grimace, turning back to me to begin lifting off his long sleeved jersey, revealing tattoos I’d never seen before on his torso, which was enticingly firm beneath the ink.
“Wait… is that my name?”
He gasped, shoving the jersey back down and slamming his hands over it.
“Fuck! You weren’t… I mean, I never thought you’d see this…
well, any part of me, and I was living with unreturned feelings and watching you fall in love with that fucker, and I guess I just…
” he trailed off and rolled his eyes, “and I’m rambling as usual.
Okay. Just bear in mind I was brokenhearted when I had these inked. ”
These? As in more than the one instance I saw?
He sighed and lifted the jersey off, tossing it onto the floor, covering his face with both hands as I eyed the designs.
Oh wow. It was my name, over and over across his abs, different designs featuring the letters woven into images, and as I traced my fingers over them, Henley sucked in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing beneath my touch.
“All these?” I felt like the world had just tilted on its axis, because this proved what he’d said.
It wasn’t just words, or lip service. This was proof that he’d wanted me for years, that he’d been in love with me.
Nobody gets someone’s name tattooed on them because they just like them, or care about them, and even if they did…
they didn’t do it… I counted them up… eleven times.
“Eleven tattoos of my name?”
He lowered his hands and blushed, he honest to god blushed at me, and I fell even more in love with him.
“One for every year I was in love with you, and couldn’t have you,” he whispered, pressing a hand over his face again, like a slow motion facepalm, “I can’t believe you’re seeing them. I thought you’d never see them.”
“Do you regret them?” I stood up, one palm still stroking his inked skin.
“I regret the reason for them, the fact that I was without you, but no.”
He lifted my chin and kissed my lips gently.
“I’d do it a million times if it meant you’d be mine.”