Chapter 4
Sutton
I pressed my hands to my cheeks, hoping that they weren’t flaming red after the positions Irish had put me in well into the early morning hours.
Dawn was kissing the sky as I walked down the steps from his room and headed into the kitchen to help with breakfast.
But first, I needed substance. Therefore, I headed to the fridge, not making eye contact with the women already in the room.
Tagging the tub of vanilla yogurt, I then headed to the pantry and grabbed the granola.
Just as I turned to set my things on the island, I heard someone snort, “You get branded last night?”
Yep, I was sure that if my cheeks hadn’t been flaming earlier, they were now.
And I knew exactly what she was referring to. Damn Gabby.
Sighing, I tagged my bowl and settled onto a bar stool.
Just then, Irish walked into the kitchen, tagging the last plate with the last omelet on it.
I watched him walk to a table, sit, and chow down.
But him not looking at me as he entered had my heart hurting. Damn, but how many times was he going to do this?
To hide my hurt and the direction my thoughts were going, I tried to ignore him as I ate my yogurt and granola.
It wasn’t until he shifted in his seat that I realized how I, too, had shifted on my bar stool so I could keep him in my sights.
I watched as he apparently finished his omelet, stood, and then brought the plate to Gabby, winked at her, and then walked out, all the while ignoring me.
My shoulders dropped; I couldn’t help it.
What more did I need to do to show that man how I felt about him?
My eyes went to Gabby as she grabbed a hand towel to dry her hands after she cleaned up Irish’s mess, and then she lowered her voice and said, “Honey, as far as I know, he hasn’t slept with any of the other club girls.”
I inhaled a breath as I tried to keep the tears at bay, but when one of them rolled down from the corner of my eye, I didn’t even try to catch it and smiled, but I knew it was weak. “I know. Pres is getting pretty pissed off at him, I do know that. He claims I’m his, but he won't do anything about it either. He warns all the brothers that try to come onto me, too.”
Gabby nodded, then asked, “He doesn’t want you but doesn’t want anyone else to have you?”
I nodded solemnly. “Maybe it's time to move on. We’ve been doing this dance for a year and a half now.”
“You going to try to be with one of the other brothers tonight?” She asked.
“I’m thinking about it. But I just… I don’t want whoever it is to get hurt. You saw what happened the last time a brother from another chapter grabbed me around the waist while we were dancing.” I shuttered after remembering in grave detail what had happened.
The guy that I had been dancing with had wrapped his hand around my back to pull me in closer, something so simple.
But where his hand had landed? It was right at the top of my ass. It really was nothing, but it wasn’t too Irish.
He had stormed over there, grabbed the man’s hand, and wrenched his arm back too far. We all heard a pop when he dislocated the guy's shoulder.
As if that wasn’t enough, Irish had grabbed me, pulled me behind him, and then, while he still held onto the guy's arm, he maneuvered him to the ground roughly then, with one of his steel-toe boots, he slammed it down hard into his side.
And that was how that other guy suffered four broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention torn tendons.
I shook my head at the memory and heard Gabby say, “You can always talk to Asher.”
“I could, but after what happened with Hallie this morning, I don’t want to stir up any more drama.”
Because Hallie had broken one of the bigger rules that we club girls had.
She had been poking condoms with needles in hopes of getting knocked up by Whit.
Needless to say, once it was discovered, which was earlier this morning, while Irish and I poked our heads out of his room, we didn’t need any more drama.
But just as I thought that, I heard the door to the clubhouse open, and from where I was sitting, I only had to tilt my head to see who it was.
And when I saw one of the men, I sighed.
Because it meant that she was here.
The woman I wanted to murder.
The woman who I knew Irish was also doing things with.
And it tore a piece of my heart every time I saw her face.
Then it tore a bigger piece every time I had to watch as Irish took her hand and led her up to his room.
And I would have to endure all of that for the rest of the day and well into the night.
Because the Soulless Outlaws were staying here for the weekend, Pagan’s Soldier’s MC, Immoral Saints MC, and Wrath MC had pulled out before breakfast had started.
I was thankful I hadn’t seen her last night.
That would have ruined everything.
Just like it did right now.
The euphoria I was feeling after last night and the fact that I had woken up to him after a few hours of sleep.... had faded. Completely.
Kill me now.
Thankfully, Gabby said, “I have to watch the kids tonight, and knowing Stella, she will shoo me out of the room so I can enjoy the party. I’ll run interference if you want me to.”
I sighed in gratefulness, “You’re awesome, girl. I think that would be great.”
Throughout the day, I helped with lunch for everyone, hung out with the girls, talked to a few of the guys, and not once did Irish speak to me.
And he hadn’t gone near Cynnamin either.
So, what the hell was going on with him?
I was about to ask him what was going on when a song blasted through the speakers. And I smiled.
I looked for Rome, and when my eyes landed on him, I headed in his direction and tilted my head to the side.
Rome jerked his chin to the chair at his side.
Once I was settled in, he pulled out a notebook, and for the remainder of the song, we played Hangman.
When I was brought into the clubhouse the very first time, I didn’t know what was going on or what was happening.
They’d worked on calming me down and getting my story, and I got it, I did.
They had an unknown in their midst, and they needed to know things.
When everyone went to a room they called church, I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them.
But Rome being Rome, he didn’t go into the room, no, he sat down beside me, pulled out a little notebook, and proceeded to play hangman with me. All while this same song played in the background.
I was laughing before I could stop myself at the words he was using.
And just like then, as he was doing now, the words cocksucker, twat waffle, and my favorite, goat licker, filled his pages.
I was still laughing when I saw it.
My body tensed.
Rome’s eyes followed the direction I was looking in, and from the corner of my eye, I saw that his jaw hardened.
I sat there, visibly shaken, as he did it.
I had been waiting all day for it to happen.
Hoping beyond hope that since he didn’t do anything with her yesterday, that just maybe...
I had been trying to shore up my defenses to deafen the hurt I was about to endure.
But every time I tried that method, it only made it hurt even worse.
The last thing I saw was Irish grabbing her ass and leading her into the clubhouse.
After everything last night.
After knocking that guy out because he pointed at me and basically tried to claim me for the night...
I couldn’t keep doing this.
It was breaking my heart piece by freaking piece.
I knew I couldn’t not give myself to one of the brothers.
I knew that.
But I would be damned if I gave myself to Irish again.
Fuck.
That.
He had lost that right.
.... only one more month and seventeen days, and I would be fulfilling my contract with the club.
If Irish hadn't changed his tune by then, well, I would be leaving.
I couldn’t handle any more of this hurt.
Just then, a shadow fell over me.
Lifting my gaze, it was to see Pagan.
One of the new prospects who had been given his patch, therefore, I smiled up at him, “Looks good on you.”
He winked down at me, then lowered to his haunches, “Want to get out of here for a bit? Too many fucking people that I don’t know.”
I smiled, then said what the hell.
I nodded, then he stood, offered me his hand, and helped me up.
His hand went to the small of my back and led me out of the courtyard, around the clubhouse, and to his bike.
He tagged his helmet and handed it to me while saying, “Know you love Irish. It’s written plain as fuck on your face, sweetheart. And as much as I would love the opportunity to show your body the pleasures I can give it, I won’t. Because I will be damned to have the woman I’m fucking, thinking about someone else. So, this is just a ride. Any time you need it. Okay?”
I smiled, then took the helmet he offered to me, “Anytime you need to be reminded, you’re a good man, Pagan. You just come to me, and I’ll set you straight.”
And with that, I climbed onto his bike after he did.
Then he started the engine, and we were off.
Taking the backroads and letting the pleasure of being on the back of the bike ebb away some of the hurt.