Chapter Twenty-Seven
MOLLIE
“A nother.”
I turn from wiping the bar top, grabbing the bottle and pouring him another Scotch. Rocco looks grateful when I slide it toward him, then grab another glass for myself, pouring a double.
He lifts the glass in the air, a small toast to the fact he and the guys made it through another day.
I drink to that.
It’s been two weeks since Chopper was murdered. Two weeks since I sat by Tanya’s side and had to watch as her world crumpled before her eyes. Her scream pierced through the room when Rocco and the others carried his body to his grave. It wasn’t obvious at first why the place wasn’t swarming with police, or why he wasn’t given a proper burial, but I soon worked it out.
They gave him a biker’s burial, in the place chosen by Tanya. A place unknown to the law who would never know of his death, or of the other deaths that also happened that night. Unlike Chopper, the others weren’t given the same send off.
I’m not fully aware of the finer details.
Given no one has mentioned them and knowing that Travis killed some of them himself, clearly tells me all I need to know. No one will ever truly know what they did to them. And sometimes, not knowing is much easier to stomach.
Finding out Chopper was hanged and that Travis was the one who found him, explains why we still haven’t spoken since that night. He’s carrying far too much for one man to handle. Until he finds it in himself to talk to me—or anyone for that matter, he’ll continue to drown under the weight of it .
Watching it happen right in front of me is tearing me apart. Screaming at him doesn’t work. Shouting hasn’t helped either. All I can do is watch. It’s why, in part, I offered to help out here. Since Tanya took off right after the funeral, they’ve been understandably left short. It’s killing me working all day then coming here at night, but he just has to know I’m here. That I need him.
Dean was as equally thrown into a dark place he can’t find his way out from. He wouldn’t give me anything. I tried, I really did, but it’s a different kind of darkness with him. I’m not sure anyone will ever unlock it.
Using everything within my power to get him to talk, Rocco cracked and gave me small details when he could see what was happening around him. The guys have closed themselves off but are working around the clock, trying to carry on as normal. They’re burned out, on their last legs, but have no choice but to get shit done. They’ve come too far to let everything sail away now.
I haven’t yet been called to speak to any buyers, and quite frankly, I’m glad. I know Rocco trusts me enough to do so, but it would only create a bigger rift between Travis and me. Working behind the bar is one thing, watching your friends lose people due to club business, really is another.
Losing Chopper is proof that this life is fragile. One false move, and you lose everything. I get why Travis is scared. I understand his hesitation to let me back in. But he has to.
Whirlwind marriage or not, I saw the loss in Tanya’s eyes when she looked down at her bump, knowing the man she loved would never get to see his child. Every time I looked at Travis, his eyes were on me, gauging my reaction. They were the same as the ones watching me now, sitting from his place by the entrance.
Looking up, I make sure to let him know I see him watching.
Lifting his glass, his eyes never leave mine as he takes a sip, licking his lips when he’s done. The simple act makes my heart flutter. He looks hot. Wearing his black jeans and a long sleeve, black and white checkered shirt, his hat’s on, and he’s wearing it backwards.
Torture.
We haven’t touched each other properly since that night, either. It’s not felt right to try. Plus, apart from a few nights on the sofa, he hasn’t actually been around for me to get close to. The longer this goes on, the harder it’s becoming to give him space.
Rocco coughs, and I look up. “What?”
He looks between me and Travis. “How’s he doing?” he asks me, like I should be the one to know.
“You tell me. He’s spent more time here than he has at home.”
Rocco clicks his teeth before taking another swig of his drink. He places the empty glass on the bar for another. “Fix it.”
My hand pauses, reaching for the bottle of Scotch. “Come again?”
“You have to fix it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He nods to the glass.
I pour with an unsteady hand. “I’ve tried.”
“You’re a smart girl. Try again.”
Twisting the lid on the bottle, I look at Travis. He’s talking to someone else, but he catches my eye. He watches, his lips still moving, then his eyes flit to Rocco who stands in my peripheral vision.
I look between them both, finally settling on Rocco.
“Fix it,” he says quietly, tapping the bar with his index finger. Then he picks up his glass and walks away to join Dean who’s just walked in.
He says it like it’s easy.
My eyes retrace their steps to Travis.
He stands, stretching his hands above his head, arching his back. There’s a small gap between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. I see the dark trail of hair, and my bottom lip finds its way between my teeth.
Standing straight, he pulls at his shoulder, rotating it under his hand. It’s still hurting him. I’m not surprised. It’s not every day you get shot.
I really wish I was more horrified by the danger surrounding him. I’m honestly not. Maybe that makes me a fool, or dumb, especially given my upbringing. Hand on my heart, when I look at the man once again looking at me, everything else fades to black. I don’t see it. It doesn’t faze me.
I see only him.
The way his eyes focus on my mouth, I think he’s going to come over and say something. This could be it, the moment we reconnect. I can see he wants to. He scratches the back of his head like he’s thinking about it, then out of nowhere, Dennis slaps him on his good shoulder, and his eyes drop apologetically. Before I can round the bar, they both walk upstairs .
Rocco’s words suddenly ring in my ears.
Fix it.
Two hours later, it’s midnight. Downstairs is now empty, the chairs all straightened and the empty glasses collected. Skitz walks downstairs shaking his head at me. I don’t care. It’s one night. He’ll get over it.
Slowly making my way upstairs, my hand slides up the metal banister, listening. They’re playing pool, a chorus of small cheers ringing out when one of them pots the ball. I smile.
When I make it to the top, Rocco hits the side of Dean’s leg, signalling the end of his night. They both stand, and Travis turns, seeing me. He watches everyone begin to leave, wondering what the hell is happening.
Rocco stops by my side, looking back at him.
When he looks back at me, he winks before heading out himself. He told me to fix it. I asked him for the space to do so.
A weird, awkward moment passes between me and Travis. We’re both standing staring at the other, listening to the final sounds of everyone leaving. The main door closes, and I hear Rocco lock it behind him.
“What did you do?” he asks warily but softly.
I lower my eyes, tucking my hands into the back of my jeans as the next song in the background begins. The thud of rock matches that of my heart. God, this is harder than I thought. Usually so in tune with one another, this is like the first time all over again. His manliness is pulsing through the air between us. I want to run to him. I want to throw myself at him and tell him everything I have to say.
But I have a different idea.
He’s leaning back against the pool table, one foot crossed over the other. His fresh glass of Vodka sits on the edge of the table, and he holds the pool cue in one hand, his arms crossed around it.
Slowly stepping closer, I hold out a tentative hand, waiting for him to pass me the cue.
He does, his eyes narrowed to crinkled slits.
“Tell you what,” I start, moving to his side and reaching for the white ball still on the table. He doesn’t move from his position as I bend at the waist, lining up the white ball, gently rolling it across the green surface with the tips of my fingers. “I pot the ball,” I look up at him, “and you talk to me. ”
After a moment, he smirks with a slight jerk of his shoulders. He knows what I’m doing. “You got Rocco to clear everyone out to get me to talk? ”
I shrug. “Only if I pot the ball.”
He holds my gaze, understanding. I wait for him to let go of the past two weeks, to let it sit still, if only for a moment, just so we can have this. He manages. I see the blackness disband, the smoky hue I’ve not seen for a while, returning with a magnetic pull.
Peace. Safety. I see it all reflecting back at me.
Looking at his feet, he then pushes away from the table and moves his glass further away toward the corner pocket. He turns his body to mine.
I line up the cue whilst he steps behind me—like the first time we were here.
“And if you miss?”
Potting the ball is irrelevant. This is the closest we’ve been in what feels like years, let alone days. His smell is intoxicating. His warmth, addictive. The low hum of his voice and the feel of him behind me is driving me wild. My heart drums loudly, my need for him to put his hands on my body, electrifying. I pull back my right arm, gently nudging him with the end of the cue before hitting the ball so softly, it rolls only a few inches before coming to a stop.
He lets out a low breath of air, and I stand straight, placing the cue on the table before turning to face him. He doesn’t step back, forcing me to arch my back, my hands behind me on the edge of the wood. His front is to my front. His hot breath is meeting mine. I swallow before talking. “Then you can fuck me on this table.”
Slowly placing his hands on my hips, tiny sparks explode like a million fireworks being let off at the same time. My lips part, now level with his. I want to kiss him so bad.
As if he knows, he licks them again before swiftly lifting me to sit on the table.
I bounce, my arms wrapping around his neck, my legs parting either side of him. My heavy breath turns heavier, in awe of the man before me.
Gently stroking my thumb across his neck, his hands travel down my thighs, before working their way back up to my waist. Every second we’re touching is like recharging a battery. The longer I feel him, the more I want. The more alive I feel .
Travis lowers his head to mine, sucking in air, his eyes closing. I know what he’s thinking without him having to say a word. His worry for us, the club—all of it, I feel every thought, see every unsteady rise and fall of his chest. But he needn’t worry for us.
“I don’t need to have children,” I whisper, hoping to alleviate some of his stress.
He pulls back to get a better look at me, probably wondering if he heard me right. He did.
I look up, our eyes locking. “If having children one day means not having you forever, then I don’t want it.”
His temples twitch frantically, his eyes narrowing. “Mollie—”
“Let me finish.” He growls, and my grip on his neck tightens seeing a steady unease rise in him. “Being with you is easy. But the thought of not having you terrifies me.”
He sighs, his head slowly rolling against mine, pushing himself closer. “It terrifies me too,” he says gently on a lost breath. “I can’t ask you to give something like this up for me, though. I won’t let you.”
I roll my lips together, trying to calm the wobble rising in my throat. “You haven’t. I’m telling you I don’t want it.”
Lifting his hands to my neck, he tips my head back.
My hands lightly graze down his arms, stopping near his wrists. “I mean it. All I need is you.”
Watching his teeth grind, I see his inner battle. He thinks he’s being selfish. I don’t care if it is. The past two weeks have been hell for both of us. I’ve learned that my life only feels complete if he’s in it. Seeing him from a distance, isn’t enough. Watching him but not touching him, it’s too hard.
They say love is sacrifice. Truth is, I don’t want anything from this man other than his love. If I have that, it’s enough. He is enough. Just as he is. “Travis.” My voice draws him in.
Lowering his head, my eyes instinctively close, knowing he’s going to kiss me. My skin heats. My tummy tightens in sweet excitement. The second his lips lay on mine; everything is washed away. All our fear. Any doubt about our future, it all vanishes like the coming of the tide. I feel us start again like the beginning of a new chapter. It hits in abundance, stealing my breath, forcing an overwhelming rush to bubble under the surface .
Pulling me closer, Travis presses his lips harder to mine, swivelling his head, his tongue coaxing me to let him in.
My hands grip his skin, lips parting, soaking up the delicate way he devours me. His gentle licks, the tiny nips of his teeth against my skin, each one makes me feel like nothing else in the world exists except us. I give an impatient wiggle, pulling him closer, a trembling fire beginning to burn all over me. I want more.
His large hands cup my face before he’s turning my head, dotting kisses from my ear, down over my neck and across my chest. Curling his fingers at the bottom of my top, he quickly lifts it over my head when I raise my arms, shaking my hair loose, feeling it sway against my back as he tosses my top to the floor. My hands are back on his arms as he begins tracing his fingers over my skin, reaching around me, unhooking my bra and dragging the straps down my arms to free my breasts.
My nipples pebble before him. The rush of him undressing me, the anticipation of our reconnection. It’s like he’s freeing my soul.
Both of his hands are back on me, cupping and kneading each of my breasts in turn. Sucking one of my nipples into his mouth, I let out a light moan when he grazes the bud with his teeth, squeezing with his hands at the same time.
My back arches for more. More of this. More of him. Just, more.
Holding onto him around his neck, I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles, making him lean in closer.
A low groan hits my ears, and he guides me back to lie flat on the table, knocking the stray balls on the table out of the way.
I laugh when one comes back to hit the side of my head, and the way I catch his smile… I want to bottle it up so that I never forget it.
He’s here. He sees me. He knows I need him.
I let out a moan when he brushes the hair from my face and begins dotting kisses over every inch of me. He moves across my cheeks, to the end of my nose, over my chin and down my neck.
I tilt my head back to make room for him, my hands removing his hat and sliding through his dark hair. I tug and pull, forcing him to moan around his kisses travelling further south with each one he lands.
Paying extra attention to my breasts before he reaches my stomach, he then stands, and my arms naturally cross above my head, my chin tilting down to look at him.
He drinks me in. His eyes scan every inch of me before his fingers traipse to my ankles, unhooking them from around him.
He’s going to undress me fully. Have me completely naked before him, just the way he likes it. He carefully removes my shoes and socks, then undoes the button of my jeans.
My legs straighten for him to pull them off me, and I hear him swallow, seeing my underwear. My black, lace thong which he loves to gag me with so much. Tonight isn’t about gagging and restraints, though. Tonight—this moment between us, this is about coming back together.
Starting at my ankles, his strong hands slide up my legs, making them instinctively part wide for him. Travis hooks me under my knees, lifting both legs and resting my feet on the table. His fingers then glide under my bum and pull me to the edge, my lower back slightly raised towards him. It’s not comfortable, but seeing the hungry look in his eyes, I know he’s about to feast on me like I’m his last ever meal.
I bite my lip, watching the aphrodisiac before me nudge my thong to one side and look down at my pussy. I can feel my wetness. Judging by the flames now dancing in his eyes, he’s thoroughly enjoying seeing what he does to me too.
Looking at me through his lashes, his head drops and he places the gentlest of kisses on my clit.
I moan, slamming my eyes shut.
“Baby,” he says hoarsely. He does it again, this time eliciting a throatier moan from me. “You’re not going to last very long.”
I blush, forcing myself to open my eyes and watch as he does it again, making my hips buck. “Travis,” I breathe his name.
“Shh,” he tells me, his other hand sliding down my inner thigh. He slips a finger inside me, and a rainbow of colours lights up behind my lids. My hands move to my hair when he adds another finger, steadily curling and sliding them in and out. Jesus. Two weeks was too long. I’ve missed this.
My body gently rocks with his movements, the sensation of every drive of his fingers making my muscles begin to tighten. “This is just how I pictured it,” I say lustfully, my voice quiet.
“What, baby?” he asks, maintaining his steady rhythm.
Pleasure blooms all over me. “Us making friends. ”
Travis stops his movements instantly, and I’m left feeling lost. “You thought we weren’t friends?” His voice is gruff, his breath steady.
Looking down my exposed body, I give him a little nod.
Travis leans over me, his arms encasing my head, his elbows resting on the pool table. He presses himself to my body, staring down at me. “After everything that happened,” he gives a subtle shake of his head, “all I kept thinking was, one day I could lose you, and it would all be my fault. I don’t ever want to be the one to hurt you. I want to be the man you need.”
Lifting my head off the table, I press my lips to his, stealing a kiss. “I need you,” I whisper against his lips. “Today,” kiss, “tomorrow,” kiss, “and each day after that. You will always be what I need.”
He scrunches a handful of my hair, pulling me closer to him, covering my mouth with his. He drags his lips over mine, claiming me as my hands fist in his hair, pulling and pushing his head as we hungrily devour each other.
He manages to break away, standing straight and looking down at me. His chest rises and falls. “Now, what else did you picture when I was making things up to you?”
I smile as he naturally begins undoing his belt. “You were definitely naked.”
He cocks a brow, smiling, his fingers undoing the pin. Handsome.
“And you were definitely inside me.”
He stops before undoing the button of his jeans. Lowering his hand, he gently strokes between my legs, making them part wider. “Oh, baby, I’m going to be inside all of you,” he grins a little wickedly as I moan, his eyes flicking to one side, “but first.” Leaning to the edge of the table, one hand still on me, he grabs his glass of Vodka. I watch as he takes a sip, then places the glass back down.
Lowering, he removes my thong then scoops me under my back, lifting me to his mouth.
His name escapes past my lips, deepening to a moan when the ice-cold liquid, seeps over my clit, delicately trickling between my legs. The warmness of the spirit burns a pleasant burn in all the right places, whilst the coolness of it brings my body out in goosebumps. It’s fire and ice colliding, swelling and tearing through every inch of my body.
Heaven.
My hips lift when Travis sucks my clit between his lips, one finger pushing inside. I cry out, my hands back in my hair as his tongue glides forwards and backwards, pressing and flicking the sensitive nerves that are begging for more of his touch.
“Like that, baby?”
I can’t reply.
He adds another finger.
My body tightens, my clit twitches and swells. Reaching down, I grab a fist full of his hair, threading my fingers through his locks. I push him down onto me, my hips pressing to his face. And I come, a deep, long, throaty moan rippling from my lungs as my body rattles and shakes against him. “Ohhh…” He guides me through my orgasm, steadily bringing me down, his fingers massaging, his tongue steady with its movements.
Panting, I lift my hands to my cheeks, my face hot to the touch.
Travis places a kiss on the inside of my thigh, before working his way over my body, back to my breasts and my neck.
Curling my arms around his shoulders, he stands taking me with him, sitting me on the edge of the pool table again. “Two weeks is too long to go without tasting you.” He tames my hair, brushing it back.
I hum with a slight laugh, angling my head to him. “We have lots of catching up to do.”
He places a chaste kiss on my forehead, his fingers gripping my hips and squeezing. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Smiling against his lips as he presses them to mine, I uncurl my arms from his shoulders and make my way to his already undone belt. My fingers run through his hair, making his breath stutter. I free him, sucking in a gasp when I wrap my hand around his thick shaft. Fuck, I want him inside me.
He undoes his buttons, removing his shirt and lifting his t-shirt over his head. With one hand wrapped around him, the other runs up his chest, leisurely exploring every inch of his stomach muscles and his chest. I make sure to run my nails over his skin, digging them in as I tighten my grip on him. “Like that, baby?” I whisper, using his words, before pressing my lips to his chest. I nip at his skin, dragging it through my teeth then gently kiss the area.
Travis wraps a hand around my throat, his eyes growing wider. He hesitates for a second, watching his thumb aimlessly stroking over my skin. Remembering. “Did I hurt you? ”
He’s referring to the night he rode home, drunk. “You didn’t hurt me.” My free hand travels to his wound. “But you got hurt.” I straighten my spine, kissing his shoulder. The hole is deep. The stitches still in place.
Sweeping my hair off my neck, he kisses up to my ear. “The only thing that hurt was the idea of living on this earth without you.” Our heads slowly turn to each other, eyes locked on each other’s lips. “I’m sorry.” His voice never wavers.
My eyes begin to fill. “You don’t have to apologise for feeling the way you do,” I whisper.
His eyes close.
Gingerly moving my hand, I slowly slide my fingers still on his shaft, up and down, bit by bit bringing him back to me.
He kisses my lips. “I really love you.”
I smile. “You really should.”