16. Riot
SIXTEEN
RIOT
I wake with a warm body pressed against me. Slowly, I prise an eye open and glimpse soft blonde hair against my chest.
The TV is stuck on the menu screen, and the sun is peeking through the gap in the blinds. I don’t want to risk waking her, so I stay suspended in the silence, arm around her, holding her like she’s the reason I exist.
Ivy’s warm breaths are soft and steady, and it shatters something inside me to know she felt comfortable enough to relax with me.
For the first time since I buried the truth about her ex, I don’t feel regret or remorse. This lie ain’t a bad thing—it’s protection. She’s healing, but she’s still bleeding, and maybe this is as good as it gets. Maybe this is peace for her, and maybe that’s enough.
She stirs, emitting little sleepy grunts, and twitches as her body wakes up.
I don’t move, watching as she slowly stretches and then lifts her head to peer up at me through one eye.
“Hey.”
I need to touch her, to feel her, so I press my lips to her forehead. “Mornin’.”
Her eyes close as she soaks it in, and that’s the greatest fucking gift she could have given me.
“What time is it?”
“Early.”
The sleepy blinks are too fucking much. Everything about her just lights me up.
She sits up, and I almost drag her back into that warm spot against me before it turns cold. But she moves to the edge of the couch to check on Seren.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep on you. Sorry.”
I’m not fucking sorry. If I had my way, I would have carried her to bed, and we’d have stayed there all damn day. “You hear me complainin’?”
Her smile is shy, tentative, as she ducks her head to her daughter.
Our girl.
“I hope I didn’t drool on you.”
“Babe, I don’t give a fuck what body fluids you leave on me.”
The pretty pink flush that tinges her cheeks almost undoes me. She’s perfection, and she doesn’t even know it. “Well, I do. So, I’m sorry.”
I drop my gaze to her mouth, full and begging to be claimed again. All I can think about is that fucking kiss and the way she tasted on my tongue.
She lifts Seren out of the Moses basket, and even though I’ve seen her do this a hundred times, I can’t stop watching.
The way she is with the baby, the softness and vulnerability, it’s a spark to a match. I’ve always wanted to protect them, but now, with Ivy’s kiss fresh in my memory, I’ll fucking burn anyone who touches them.
“How do we… you know,” she winces, “ do this?”
“Do what?”
She lifts the baby against her chest, her body relaxing. “I mean… I know it was just a kiss, but does it… what does it…”
I mentally fill in the words she’s too scared to ask—what does this mean?
Needing to touch her, I stroke my thumb over her pulse, and she becomes soft under me. “It wasn’t just a kiss.”
It was the last breath in my lungs.
I take her mouth, needing to taste the only thing that makes my heart still fucking beat. She’s light and warmth wrapped in sin and desire.
And she’s fucking mine.
I want to take care of her, and I’ve never wanted to take care of any woman ever. She makes that noise in my head—the one that seeks pain and pleasure just to feel—disappear.
I want this moment to last forever, but sound from deep within the apartment has Ivy’s hand pressing to my chest.
A silent warning to stop.
I pull back, wishing I could spend hours wrapped in her, consumed by her, but I ain’t crossing whatever lines she draws.
“Can we keep this between us?”
The fuck? Those words are a kick to the balls. Is she embarrassed, or is this something to do with her past? I try to read her, but I can’t. “Babe, I ain’t hidin’ this, us .”
“I don’t want to hide us either,” she says quickly, then a smile dances on her mouth. “But maybe just for a little while. I want to enjoy this without any pressure.”
Not forever, just for now. It goes against everything within me to deny to the world she’s mine, but I nod. Whatever she wants, I’ll give to her. “You worried what they’ll say?”
Mace’s reaction will depend on Maylie’s, and even though he loves me, I ain’t sure how she’ll feel about me making moves with her sister.
Ivy’s eyes widen, as if that hadn’t occurred to her.
“No.” She cups my face, and I grab her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I don’t need approval. I want you. I want this. I just selfishly want you to myself while we’re figuring stuff out.” Those words ease some of the uncertainty beating inside me. I breathe even deeper when the sigh she lets out is content. “I better get dressed.”
“Okay, baby. You want me to have Seren?”
“No, I can take her. We’ll have a bath together.”
My mind doesn’t jump to the idea of her naked and soapy but to the image of her taking care of our girl.
And when she walks out of the room holding the baby, I lean back on the sofa, feeling light.
Until my gaze gravitates to the flowers on the table.
My jaw twitches. That fuckin’ kid. I’ve never been jealous of anyone, but those flowers piss me off.
I want to smash Jackson’s teeth into his stomach for upsetting Ivy. That note buried among the stems twists my insides into a knot. The thought of anyone making her feel uncomfortable or hurting her has red filming my vision.
I stand, snatching up the vase.
He doesn’t know the first fucking thing about Ivy, about what she likes, what she needs. He has no idea about the awful movies she loves to watch, or the fact she has a favourite pair of fluffy socks. He doesn’t know that her hair always smells like strawberries because of the shampoo she uses. He wasn’t there during those long, sleepless nights after Seren was born. He doesn’t know that Ivy still believes in fairytale love despite the hell she suffered.
And he doesn’t know how she rebuilt herself, piece by piece, after her shitty ex tortured her.
So, no, he doesn’t get to send fucking flowers and dinner invites.
I step on the peddle of the kitchen bin with enough force that it wobbles and toss the entire bouquet into it.
Fucking prick.
He can never give Ivy and Seren what they need. I’ll never allow him to try, either.
I slip the empty vase onto the kitchen counter and use the main bathroom down the hall before I head back to the couch to finish getting ready.
Once I’ve gathered my shit, I step into the kitchen.
I expect to see Ivy at the counter, but it’s Maylie who turns and gives me a smile, and fuck, the bite of guilt I feel is unexpected.
I don’t feel bad for claiming Ivy, but I do feel bad for doing it under May’s nose.
“Good morning.”
Maylie won’t care that I kissed her sister. She’ll only want what makes Ivy happy.
And you think that’s you?
It ain’t, but fuck, it’s gonna be.
“Mornin’,” I say as I walk over to the kettle. “How are you feelin’?”
“A little better today. I only spent fifteen minutes throwing my guts up as opposed to half an hour,” she says with a tired smile.
“Ain’t there something that can be done?”
“I don’t think so. My midwife doesn’t seem too worried, so I’m not either. It’s your brother who’s freaking out. Maybe you could try talking to him?”
I snort. “You think he’d listen? Look, if my girl was pregnant and pukin’ nonstop, I’d be freakin’ out too.”
I’d tear the hospital apart until someone did something.
“It’s not nonstop.” Maylie’s defensive tone snaps me out of my thoughts. “It is pretty rough, though.” She leans back against the counter, her shoulders sagging. “Don’t tell Mace I said that. He’s already worried enough, and I don’t want our baby to be an only child.”
I raise my brow at her. “If you think he’s ever gonna let you do this again, you’re out of your fuckin’ mind.” I finish making my coffee, not bothering to offer any to Maylie.
Coffee triggers her projectile vomiting.
“He doesn’t get to make that decision on his own. I know exactly what I can handle, and as unpleasant as this is, it will end. In just a few months’ time, we’ll have a baby and all this terrible sickness and tiredness will be a distant memory.”
“Yeah, and then you’ll have a newborn and no sleep for the next ten years.”
“Pregnancy tired is completely different to newborn tiredness.” Ivy’s sweet voice has my head snapping in her direction.
Her hair is damp, hanging around her shoulders, and Seren is wrapped in a towel that covers her head, like an adorable little gremlin.
Our eyes lock from across the room, and I’m sure mine are blazing with heat.
She’s fucking beautiful.
The robe she’s wearing is belted around her waist but only reaches mid-thigh. I can’t stop my gaze from dipping to take in her legs. The new curves she’s developed after her pregnancy make her look like a fucking goddess, and my fingers itch to grip her hips.
I don’t know if my intentions show on my face, but a blush rises in her cheeks as she shifts Seren in her arms.
And her smile is coy.
Maylie’s oblivious to the heat between me and her sister, focused on making whatever concoction she’s creating today. It looks like pond water, but from the ingredients surrounding her, it’s some kind of fruit and vegetable smoothie.
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better, Ivy,” Maylie says over her shoulder. “I already feel like the walking dead.”
“If I can do it, you can, and it’s really not that bad when you have so many people around you willing to help.”
She moves to the table, holding Seren against her chest, and I can’t stop staring at her. I have to root my feet to the floor so I don’t grab her chin and press a blistering kiss to her mouth.
I’ve never been the guy who doesn’t take what the fuck he wants, but I won’t be like her ex.
Her very dead ex.
I choke down the guilt, reminding myself why I’m holding this secret.
It won’t be the only one. The nature of the club means there’ll always be things I have to keep from her, and I have to learn to deal with that.
“Oh!” Maylie exclaims so suddenly, we both turn towards her. She’s standing over the bin, her body blocking it from view.
“Are you okay?” Ivy demands.
“You didn’t like the flowers?”
“Huh?”
“They’re in the bin.”
Ivy snaps her gaze to me, her brow arching.
I smirk and shrug, my eyes dancing with challenge.
“No, I didn’t like them,” she says to her sister.
Maylie huffs. “I don’t know what that boy said to you, but it seems such a waste to throw away perfectly good flowers.”
Ivy scowls. “I can buy flowers for myself.”
That declaration is directed at me.
Maylie shakes her head. “Of course, you can. You’re a modern woman. Can one of you make a start on breakfast? I’m pretty sure the moment this smoothie touches my lips, I’m going to be puking it right back up.”
She’s still mumbling to herself as she leaves the kitchen, clutching her glass.
I don’t break the stare. I can’t. There is a spark inside me that Ivy has lit. She’s going to be the death of me.
There’s not a single thing that’s going to stop me from claiming her as soon as she’s ready. Not my brother, not Maylie, not the club.
“Did you put my flowers in the bin?”
I hold my hands out for Seren, and Ivy automatically hands her over to me. Not a moment of hesitation, just total trust.
Seren is fucking adorable, her big blue eyes peering up at me as she blows her lips. I can see Ivy in her features already, and nothing that looks like her shitty ex.
As I fix the towel around her little body, I realise it’s one I bought for her. Was that a conscious choice on Ivy’s part?
“You wanna eat while I hold her?”
“The flowers?” she repeats, not allowing me to change the topic.
“I told you they were pissin’ me off.”
“They’re just flowers. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, Riot.” She drops her voice low. “It was you I kissed last night, not Jackson.”
His name on her lips makes my jaw flex. “Keep talkin’ about him and I’ll shove those flowers down his throat.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not interested in him. You know that, right?”
If she was, he’d be picking teeth off the ground.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I shift to pull it out without jostling Seren.
The message is from Nic. He needs me at the clubhouse.
“Shit. I gotta run.” I hand Seren back to her, kissing the top of the baby’s head before I duck down to lock my mouth to Ivy’s. Anyone could walk in, but I don’t care, and clearly, neither does she. She melts against my mouth as I deepen the kiss, needing it seared on my lips so I can remember every second of this moment while I’m gone.
“You need me, I’m at the end of the phone,” I tell her.
“Are you coming back later?” The little hopeful note in her voice has me smiling.
“Yeah, babe.” I press a kiss to Seren’s head. “Nowhere I’d rather be.”
The whole time I’m on my bike, all I can think about is Ivy and this thing growing between us. As the clubhouse looms ahead of me, my mood sours. I don’t fucking wanna be here.
A ball of dread sits in my stomach as I park the bike and head inside.
The bar is dead, and I find Nic sitting outside in his usual spot. The cooler air raises the hair on my nape as I head over to him.
He glances up from the smoke he’s got between his lips and gives me a nod of greeting.
“You okay?” I ask, sinking onto the bench across from him.
“Wanna fill me in on what happened last night?”
For the briefest of moments, I think he’s talking about me and Ivy kissing.
Why the hell would he care about that, dumb fuck?
I tell him everything, including Blade’s familiarity with the buyer and his bullshit story about cheating with the guy’s wife. I also tell him about Dash and the conversation we had about him wanting to patch over to another chapter.
Nicky listens, not saying a word until I’m done.
“You think there’s something goin’ on there with Blade?” He keeps his voice low, even though there’s no one around to overhear us. I do the same when I reply.
“I don’t like the guy, and that skews my judgement.”
“If he’s playin’ games, I don’t know what his angle is.” He rubs his temple, as if he’s getting a headache.
Me neither. “You spoke to Ravage?”
He nods. “He and Howler are talkin’ to the other presidents, feelin’ them out. When the time comes to make a move, we should have support across the board.”
That unease that seems to live in my stomach continually is like a boulder.
Nicky stiffens suddenly, his eyes locked on the window into the bar area. I follow his gaze to see Blade inside talking with Grub.
My instincts prick, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rising again as I lock my eyes onto them. This shit needs to end. I hate not knowing who to trust.
“You think they’re both workin’ to undermine the club?” I ask, curious to hear Nicky’s answer.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “My gut says yeah, but a gut feeling ain’t enough to condemn a man.”
“And Dash?”
“I want to believe he meant what he said,” he says, “but I don’t trust anyone outside of you and Mace.”
I feel the same, but Dash seemed sincere, and I want to trust him. I have to believe there’s still something worth fighting for here.
“Keep your eyes open, Riot, and watch your back. Shit’s gettin’ dicey.”
“You too,” I say, watching as he walks off, and that heavy pit in my stomach seems worse than ever.
I head out an hour later with Diesel to do some pick-ups. He’s my least favourite brother to be around, mostly because he barely talks and skulks around like a fucking creep. Usually that bothers me, but today, I’m glad it’s him and not King or Riley.
In the silence that yawns between us, I let myself get lost in thoughts of Ivy, and for the first time in my life, I ain’t scared of settling down.