Chapter Twenty-Nine
L iz slotted the last plate into the dishwasher, closed it, then hit the START button. Sighing, she planted her hands against the counter, thankful for a moment to think. She was grateful that Erika had asked Trouble to put her to bed, because Liz needed a few fucking minutes to get her thoughts in order.
Amelia had sent the picture. Trouble had been adamant that he hadn’t touched the skank since Liz’s attack…and…she believed him. Fuck. She believed him.
Groaning, she rubbed the spot between her eyes, cursing at herself. After all the asshole had done, the heartbreak and years of struggle she’d endured because of his fuckery…she’d learned to trust him. The man he’d been back then, in the beginning, had been a man of honor, who’d fought for his country, was loyal to his brothers in arms and leather, and had been…good to her. The man who’d hurt her in that bar…was not the man she’d fallen in love with. He’d become someone else in order to push her away. She knew that now. The man Trouble was now…the man Tessa, Fae, Skathi, and their men had told her about…was a different animal in the same skin.
And she trusted him—with her life and their daughter’s.
It’s time to trust him with other things as well…right?
Ugh!
So, no, Amelia’s little trick hadn’t worked, but something had happened, because Trouble’s “shit” when he walked through the door, and the look of wariness on his face told her that something had. And he was going to fucking tell her about it, or she was going to tear out his larynx.
So much for “do no harm….”
She snickered at that, and nearly shot through the roof when a voice whispered against the back of her neck.
“What’s so funny?”
Spinning, she nearly smacked Trouble’s nose with her own—he’d been that close to her.
“Fucking shit, Trouble,” she snapped, pressing a hand to her racing heart, “wear a goddamn bell!”
Trouble chuckled, smirking. Not even bothering to take a step back and give her space, he crossed his arms over his chest, putting all the forearm porn right in her face. Thick, veiny, and totally drool-worthy—just like his cock.
Fuck! Focus, slut!
Ignoring his question about her moment of humor, she pinned him with her nastiest glare, and demanded, “What was the shit you had to deal with at the clubhouse?”
Not surprisingly, he didn’t look surprised at her question, but his smirk fell off his face as he sighed. He took a step into her space, and she took a step back, only succeeded in trapping herself against the counter. Trouble took advantage, planting his hands on each side of her, his beautifully sculpted chest pressed against hers, his muscular arms on either side of her, like brackets made of wet dreams.
Focus!
Trouble bent down, brushing his lips over her forehead. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if he were savoring their closeness, and when they opened again, there was a tenderness there that sucked the breath from her body.
“I’d gone to the clubhouse to talk with Odin about club business,” he began, and she rolled her eyes. Of course, club business —business that was none of hers, though she had a suspicion it had something to do with the Russians. He cocked a smile at her, his eyes dancing. “I’ll tell you when you need to know, Skizzy. I promise.” She huffed. On impulse, she moved to cross her own arms, but as close as he was, she only ended up slapping her hands against his chest. Where they stayed. He dropped his head, his gaze taking in the sight of her hands on him, and he growled, the sound vibrating through her palms, right to her clit.
Motherfucking hell! How was one sound enough to make her nearly orgasm?
“I can’t tell you how much I miss having your hands on me, baby, but I got to get through this before I can take you to bed and fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week.”
She gasped, her body catching fire.
She had no idea why her mouth started moving or why it said, “I miss your hands on me, too.”
Something fierce and hungry flashed through Trouble’s eyes before he slammed his mouth down on hers, stealing her breath, and capturing her lips with his. Groaning, she slid her hands up his chest, around his neck, to thread her fingers through his hair, making him groan in return.
Fuck, she missed this.
Opening her mouth, she invited him in, and he fucking pillaged, marauded, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, ravishing her, deepening the kiss, and pressing his throbbing cock against her belly.
Gasping in shock, then moaning in need, she pressed her lower half against him, needing friction.
“Shit!” he rasped, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “I got to tell you this before I lose the ability to think.”
Pouting and hating the interruption—and hating that she hated it, Liz stared up at Trouble, waiting for his explanation. Her hands dropping to his rock-hard pecs once more, she licked her kiss-swollen lips, tasting him. He tasted like hers.
He saw her action and groaned, his eyes growing even more heated than before. As if he couldn’t not touch her, he grabbed her wrists, his long fingers easily encircling them, locking her hands in place against him. She could feel him breathing, his heart racing—he was a living, breathing temptation beneath her palms.
God—wanting him was so wrong. But he was standing right there, right in front of her, his eyes dark with lust, his face flushed with desire, his lips puffy from devouring her mouth.
Fuck, she wanted Trouble. So fucking much.
And he must have seen that on her face because he groaned, “Goddamn, woman, you unmake me—just…just….” Moaning, he closed his eyes, he ground his cock against her, then pulled back, took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. The heat was still there, but it was banked by determination. “When I was done talkin’ to Odin, I headed to my room to piss. Amelia was waitin’ in my room. Somehow, she got the door unlocked, got herself undressed, and was waitin’ in my bed. I swear to you, baby, I didn’t touch her, didn’t let my eyes drop below her neck, and I made sure to text Saint as soon as I saw what was goin’ on.”
“Holy shit, that fucking bitch!” Liz snarled, trying to pull her hands from Trouble’s grip so she could grab the nearest sharp object. That woman made her all sorts of unhinged violent. It wasn’t until she’d reunited with Trouble that her baser instincts to maim and mutilate had risen; before that, she’d been happy to be scrappy and snarky. Apparently, facing heartache and betrayal head on was a trigger.
Trouble chuckled. “Hold on there, tigress, lemme finish before you go makin’ her your dinner.”
Sniffing at the humor in his voice, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I hope you told her to fuck off, then tossed her out on her ass.” And then threw ice cold water on her like she was a bitch in heat.
Leaning in, Trouble forced her to meet his gaze, and she swallowed at the intensity and raw honesty she saw.
“First, I said what needed to be said, then I had Saint escort her to a guest room. She’ll be gone in the morning, banned from all club properties for thirty days.”
That was all? She opened her mouth to demand she be banned forever, when she remembered what he’d said.
“What did you say that needed to be said? What could you possibly have to say to her after the shit she’s pulled? You realize she sent me a naked selfie from your bed, right? She all but said she’d be fucking you tonight.”
Trouble’s eyes flashed rage, before a cold vibrancy replace it.
“I’ll deal with that shit later,” he intoned, making her want to ask how he planned to deal with it. “To answer your question…I apologized to her.”
Stunned, unable to believe what he’d just said, she rasped, “What?”
Rolling his lips, he dropped her wrists to cup her face.
“I had it under good authority—from the ol’ ladies and even Odin—that I was in the wrong for using Amelia to hurt you. I strung her along, makin’ her think we were more than just fuckin’. They explained that’s why she’s so pissed and actin’ out—she thought she’d be my ol’ lady, because I showed her preferential treatment—Fae’s words, not mine. So, yeah, I told her I was sorry—then she said some shit….” His words dropped off as he finally took in her expression. His gaze dropped from her eyes, drifting over each of her features, as if trying to read what she wasn’t saying.
I told her I was sorry….
He told Amelia he was sorry . Remorse. Apology. Regret. He’d told Amelia he regretted what he’d done. He’d told Amelia he was remorseful. He gave to Amelia something Liz had been silently, patiently waiting for for ten years .
Her voice barely a whisper, she breathed, “You…apologized.” She blinked, her heart rate spiking, then stalling, making her brain fuzzy. “To Amelia.” Her voice cracked on the name.
Trouble leaned back, his forehead furrowing in confusion.
“Was I not supposed to? The girls said—”
Enough. She’d heard enough.
“You fucking asshole!” she hissed, just barely remembering that their daughter was asleep down the hallway. Trouble flinched at her venom, anger hardening his features. “You apologized to Amelia. The woman you used to hurt me . Me! You hurt me on purpose, using someone you knew enjoyed flaunting your relationship in my face, someone who made it her mission to remind me at every opportunity that she was sharing your bed, and I was not. You apologized to her—”
Clearly exasperated, he interjected, “Yes—”
“But not to me!” she screamed, now uncaring about any potential audience. She couldn’t hold it in, that vitriol, that bitter resentment, that painful, striking humiliation that another woman heard those precious words before she did. Her, Liz, the woman he’d wounded far worse, cut much deeper than some fucking clubwhore. “I’ve heard about how bad you feel for what you did, that you were a coward, a piece of shit, that you want to make up for all the years you missed with Erika. You talk about how you’re going to make things right, that you want to be a family, that you want me back….” She closed her eyes, the burning tears collecting in the corners slipping free. She heard him gasp. Opening her eyes, she looked at him, every ounce of pain, of devastating hurt and disappointment, of anger and bitterness, and indignation and outrage poured out of her soul and into her gaze. Trouble went white. “But not once— not fucking once —have you said the words ‘I’m sorry’.”
For too long, she’d carried herself, using her own strength, her own determination, her own will—and she couldn’t do it anymore. Her strength depleted, her heart screaming, she crumbled.
Trouble leapt forward, wrapping his arms around her as she fell, the sound of a wounded animal burst from his chest.
He held her up, his large body supporting her in her moment of weakness. Against her head, he rasped, “No, no, no…baby. Shit. You’re right, you’re right….” He pressed a kiss to her bowed head. “I’m sorry, so fucking sorry, Liz. Not just for not saying the words before but for all that I’ve done to hurt you. For all the mistakes I made with you, for pushing you away, for making you think the worst, for making you raise our daughter on your own for ten fucking years.” He took a deep, unsteady breath as his arms around her tightened. “I have loved you for so long, and I have been a fool for just as long.”
She gasped at his words, her tears still freely flowing down her cheeks and onto his t-shirt.
“I’m sorry for reading that fucking letter and thinking I knew better than you about your own life. I’m sorry that instead of loving you and supporting you, I tore you apart, I lied, I forced you out of my life—I broke my own fucking heart, too, goddammit!” He was vibrating, his emotions pouring from him—and she felt it all. “But I only have myself to blame for all of it. If I had just talked to you, you and I would never have been apart. I would have claimed you as my ol’ lady, I’d have been there to watch my baby grow in your belly, I’d have been there to see Erika come into this world, I could have held her, kissed her, promised her the fucking world—and I am so fucking sorry that didn’t happen. You have no idea how sorry I am that I wasn’t there for you two.” It seemed that he was crumbling, too, as he stumbled his way to the living room with her in his embrace, then collapsed onto the couch. He fell, like his legs could no longer hold him up, and she landed against him. He took a shuddering breath, and she pulled away, her tears still flowing, but slower, as she took in his face.
Devastation. Self-hatred. Anguish.
His gaze collided with hers, and she felt his pain right down to the depths of her soul.
He reached out, cupping her face with one hand, the other arm remained wrapped around her waist, holding her in place against him.
His voice rough, deep, pain-filled, he continued, “I’m so fucking sorry that I used Amelia to hurt you, baby. That first time I saw you in nearly nine years…it hurt, so fucking much—and I didn’t need to remember what I’d done to you, because I’d never forgotten. I thought about you everything fucking day, Liz— every fucking day . There wasn’t a day that I didn’t wonder where you were, what you were doin’, if you’d gotten married, had kids—living the life that should have been mine.” He swallowed, his eyes growing glossy, and something inside her warmed at the sight. He was tearing himself apart, and she was there to witness it. “I didn’t know then that you’d never left the fucking city; I’d thought you’d returned from California, having lived this amazing life without me. I wanted to know every damn thing about your life, and I knew I had no right to it. I knew I’d have to see you, and that every time I did it would hurt like hell…and I wanted to save myself, to make sure that when you came around, you kept your distance. Amelia…she was easy. I knew I could use her as a sort of wall between us. And that first time you came around, and she was there with me…you tried to hide it, but I saw it, the anger. The jealousy. And it felt so fucking good to know you still wanted me, that you were still affected by me—because I was still affected by you.”
For the first time in what felt like hours, Liz spoke, her voice ragged, “It wasn’t just jealousy, Trouble; you hurt me, every time I saw you two together, especially since you weren’t hiding your intentions. I knew you were doing it on purpose, throwing her in my face every time I came around the clubhouse.” God, it hurt, remembering all those times she came through the door, and he was there, with Amelia, kissing her, fingering her, touching her, letting her touch him, suck his cock—right out in the open. It had been a kick in the face, a punch in the gut, and a stab to the chest each time. She’d told herself she was immune to him, over him, over what she felt for him, that she didn’t love him, that he hadn’t been the love of her life, her soulmate. But it was a lie. Each time, seeing them together had sliced another piece off her heart, had darkened another piece of her soul.
Trouble brushed his thumb over her cheek, sweeping away the tears, caressing her heated skin.
Her voice cracking, she asked, “Why did you keep doing it? Once you knew it affected me, why did you keep doing it?”
He tensed, his arm around her waist turning to a band of steel, as if making sure she couldn’t move. He heaved a sigh, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“I was an asshole, Skizzy. I have no excuse for what I did. I just….” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Opening them again, he admitted, “Seeing you, knowing you were no longer mine, that I had no right to know you anymore…it hurt like a motherfucker. And…I wanted to hurt you back. I know it’s fucked up, that it’s what cowards do, but we agree that when it comes to my emotions, I’m a fucking spineless prick. Put a gun in my hand, point me to an enemy, and I’ll run in, roarin’… but you put a woman’s heart in my hand, make me fall in love with her…it scared the shit out of me. And I hurt you because I hurt….” Sitting up, he pulled her closer, until her face was inches from his. She didn’t fight it. She couldn’t. They’d both been flayed, laid open, vulnerable, wounded…and she needed him to help her put herself back together. Just as he needed her.
Trouble’s gaze held hers as emotions flashed, swirled, and dominated his eyes. Anger. Regret. Sorrow. Grief. Lust. Need. Love.
He leaned in, his mouth brushing hers, his breath drifting over her heated lips.
“I love you, Elizabeth. And…I’m sorry.”
Her thoughts jumbled, her heart aching, her body thrumming, Liz let it go—let it all go.
With a groan, she pressed her lips to his.
She was done running from trouble; it was time to embrace it.