Chapter 36 Grudge
GRUDGE
Forty-eight hours later, exhaustion wraps around me like an ill-fitting jacket, pinching in all the wrong places. The kind of tired that isn’t just in the muscles but buried deep in the bones and soul.
But when I finally close the door to Lucy’s bedroom in the bakery apartment, some of that pressure in my chest eases. The quiet, the dim light, and the scent of her perfume lingering in the air pulls at something old and aching inside me.
“Did you see how fast Wren moves around that computer of theirs?” Lucy says, already tugging her sweater over her head. “Made me feel seasick watching them.”
I guess that was how Wren, the genius that they are, were able to get the majority of the money back into our account and clean any reference the transactions ever happened.
But at least all the data was compiled. And Lucy and I have handed off the files to the police with a promise that she will not let them rest if they try to bury it or hide it.
Wren was able to get more details off Lucy’s father’s files.
The irony was that, in trying to protect himself against the force of the Rebels, he’d built an extensive paper trail that incriminates himself.
He’s in hospital, but under arrest, cuffed to his bed.
Lucy and her mom gave their statements about how the raid on their house went down.
How they were alone. How the men tried to kill them because of information they were uncovering.
And how we arrived after the men did, thanks to the video surveillance from the house that showed them entering ahead of us.
Her mom has hired a lawyer, started divorce proceedings, and gone to stay with a friend in Denver while her house undergoes repairs.
“I feel shitty for pushing them to get the information pulled together faster.” I start unbuttoning my flannel shirt. “I’m still getting used to the whole pronoun thing. ‘Them’ sounds like a plural, to me. I fucked it up twice over pizza.”
Lucy steps into my space, close enough that the heat from her bare skin warms mine, and places her hands on my chest. “And you fixed it both times. Wren’s really gracious about it. You’re trying, Zach. That’s what matters.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You never fucked up, though.”
Lucy shrugs. “Maybe it’s the lawyer in me. We use ‘they’ and ‘them’ all the time when we’re trying to shield a client or witness’s identity. It just makes sense. You’ll get there.”
“Or King’ll shoot my balls off,” I mutter.
“That’s a tough position to be in,” she says, unbuttoning her jeans, her tone gentle. “Why are they even here? Did King tell you?”
I feel the internal tussle between loyalty to my club and the woman who has slowly reclaimed every piece of me.
“King did,” I say, pulling my flannel off and tossing it on the chair.
“But it’s club business, Luce. And as much as I was honest with you about what happened here with the Rebels and your father, I’m not gonna cross that line when it comes to Wren.
If they want to tell you on their own time, that’s on them. ”
She studies me for a beat, and something in her face softens. “I understand,” she says finally, and kicks off her jeans.
“You do?”
“Sure. I mean, I won’t be able to tell you everything about my cases either. Some of them might eat me alive, and I’ll have to come home to you and either pretend they didn’t or tell you something horrid happened and I just need a hug from you.”
Gratitude coils in my chest. “Hugs I can do.”
She pauses, standing in a pair of simple cotton panties and a ridiculous pair of pink fluffy socks. “If you tell me you can’t tell me, I’ll believe you. And I trust you to tell me what you can, when you can.”
I step in close, my hand finding her bare waist, soft under my touch. “You really trust me?”
She lifts her chin and meets my gaze. “You never let me down, Grudge. Not once. You never gave me reason to not trust you.”
Her words level me harder than anything ever has.
I slide my hand up, fingers brushing her ribs. Her breath catches as her body leans into me. I cup her throat with my other hand, and her pulse flutters beneath my thumb.
She looks up at me like I’m something worth believing in.
And I want to be.
I want to be worthy of every trial we had to face to get here. To make up for every second we lost.
She’s tired, dark shadows dancing beneath her eyes. Her hair is a mess from hours of pulling her fingers through it. And she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I listened as Wren and Lucy mentally sparred and challenged each other, putting the pieces of her father’s crimes together.
They’re good for each other.
Both brilliant.
The sum of those two is even greater than the individual pieces. For a second, I imagine a future where our club suddenly benefits from both their brains.
What a fucking legacy that would be.
“You coming to bed?” she says, stealing the shirt I just took off and slipping it over her shoulders. “Or are you just gonna stand there looking like a model on a lumberjack calendar?”
I smirk, finishing off the buttons on my jeans. “You like the lumberjack look, and you know it. Remember that time you jumped me while I was taking a break from cutting up all that wood our first Christmas as a couple?”
The way her cheeks heat as she climbs onto the bed tells me she does. “I can’t be held responsible for that. There was something about the way you swung that axe.”
She shivers, playfully, as she takes to her knees by the edge of the bed. My shirt shifts so that one of her breasts is on display again.
Last night, we just held on to each other as we processed everything that happened. But tonight, I get the sense this woman wants me as much as I want her.
When I’m naked, I move to her. She reaches for me, hands on my hips as she tugs me to her. The semi I’m sporting turns to a full-blown hard-on as she reaches for it and strokes me gently.
“How did I ever live without you?” she asks.
I run my hand over her hair. “Don’t know, but you’re never going to have to again. You’re staying here in Colorado, right? Not going back to New York?”
“I am. Might take a while to build my practice, though.” She leans up and presses a kiss to the hollow of my throat.
“I can financially cover us both. Forever, if you want.”
“I love you, Zach.”
I still, for a second. Hearing those words from her will never get old.
Tenderly, I kiss her forehead. “I love you too, Luce.”
Still stroking my cock, which is now aching for her, she looks up at me. “Maybe I should start my law practice under the name Lucy Williams. You know, to differentiate myself from my father when his law firm implodes.”
I almost choke. “Are you proposing to me?”
She looks up at me from beneath her lashes. “No. It was more of an out-loud thought you might want to pay attention to.”
Fuck, my life has never felt better. “Noted.”
When I marry her this time around, I want it to be in front of my brothers and my mom. I want to take her to see Dad. I want it all.
This afternoon, she grabbed coffee with my mom. While I know Lucy intended to apologize for the results of her actions, neither of them would tell me what was said. But the way they hugged each other when Mom left says it was a good conversation.
Lucy presses kisses to my pec, my rib, my waist, and my groin. But I hold my breath when I see her open her lips and lick the bead of pre-cum from my cock.
When she moves away, it stretches like a spiderweb, joining the two of us, and it’s hot as fuck.
She twirls her tongue around it as she moves over me again, sucking me deep.
I place my hands on her head, not forcing her to be still, but more because I just want to touch her while she takes me to the back of her throat.
While I love a good deep throat, and no one could ever quite do it like Lucy, that’s not what I need, right now.
For reasons I can’t explain, I want something soft between us. Something loving. Comforting. Something to ease us in to sleep.
I fist the base of my cock to stop her from taking it too deep. Then, I stroke the side of her cheek.
She smiles around me, like the little love bug she is, before running her tongue along the thick vein. Dressed in my open shirt and her pink socks, she looks cute as a fucking button.
Lucy fucking Williams.
I better get looking for a new ring so I can marry her before Christmas. Love the idea of starting next year with my wife.
I reach for her, lifting her into my arms before laying her down on the bed. She places her hand over her mouth to stifle the squeal and giggle.
The sheets are cool. The overhead light is off, but warmth glows from the small lamp Lucy turned on when she walked in.
She lies back on the pillow, and I follow, rolling onto my side to face her.
“Make love to me,” she whispers.
I start with her mouth. Slow kisses. Long, delicious, open-mouthed kisses. The kind that breathe life into the empty places in a man’s soul.
Her hand finds the side of my neck, her thumb brushing over the bristles on my jaw, as I kiss her like I’ll never get the chance to tell her I love her ever again. I trail my lips down to her collarbone, then her breast, pausing the worship of her nipple when she sighs.
I take my time.
My fingers explore her. I kiss the freckle on her rib cage, the curve of her stomach, the sharp ridge of her hip bone.
Her breath shudders, one hand thrust into my hair.
I reach over to the side table next to the bed. In it are the supplies I brought over earlier. I quickly put on a condom and apply some lube, because we won’t get our test results back for another two days.
When her legs part, I slide between them and hold there. Just resting my weight over her, our heads touching.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Every version of you there’s been. Every version there’s going to be.”
I kiss her again. Letting the feel of her lips against mine be her answer.
I slide into her, and it’s not rushed.
It’s not rough.
It’s not dominating.
But it’s right.
She arches beneath me, legs winding around my waist. Her hands roam my back, my shoulders, my face, like she’s memorizing my body.
I move inside her with a rhythm that’s more about feeling than friction.
“Zach,” she gasps.
“I’ve got you, sweet girl.”
“You always did,” she breathes.
“Gonna make up for all the years I should have been loving you.”
The slow waves of pleasure start to curl higher. She tightens around me, her hips seeking, and I know she’s close.
I sit deep inside her, rolling my hips, a steady grind, my thumb brushing her cheek as she begins to shake.
There’s a beauty in this. One that’s so fucking rare in my world, I’m almost scared of it. It tilts me. The urge to come hammering down my spine. But I don’t want to ruin this almost-sacred moment.
“Please,” Lucy says.
“I’m so fucking close, Bug. Come with me.”
Her mouth opens on a silent cry, her body clutching around mine as she falls. I follow seconds later, burying my face in the pillow as I groan, so I don’t disturb Wren and Catfish in their rooms down the hall.
There’s an intensity to it that I can’t place. It’s not wild and high. It’s low in my groin. An aching pulse in desperate need of relief.
I gasp again, sucking in air, as it continues.
Lucy buries her face in my neck, lips brushing my skin. “Don’t let me go.”
We lie there, tangled, breathing slowing, hearts thudding.
“I’m never letting you go again.”