29. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Reeve
My dick is as hard as a steel rod and has somehow nestled itself between the rounded globes of Trix's ass, making itself comfortable, as if it belongs there.
I woke up minutes ago, and although I should've probably moved away from her already, I can't find the strength to extract myself from the bed, and away from the stunning beauty still tucked against my body.
During the night, we've somehow stayed in the same position we fell asleep in, the only movement made was clearly getting impossibly closer to each other.
My arms are banded around her body, my chest plastered against her back, legs intertwined, and my nose buried in her messy red hair.
As unusual as this is, I'm finding it rather enjoyable.
Drawing deep breaths to bathe in her cinnamon scent for as long as possible, I tighten my arms around her as I soak up the warmth radiating off her body.
Never in my life have I cuddled with a woman.
It's never interested me, and it's not just because I'm an ass, it's mostly because I'm not used to affection.
Growing up in a family like mine, there wasn't much love.
My father is a money-hungry dickhead who cares about nothing other than himself and his company, and my mother—well, she never wanted children. I'm pretty sure she just popped us out to keep my dad happy and then left as soon as we were old enough to look after ourselves.
Moving from that home to this one, surrounding myself with surly bikers, it's fairly obvious why I've never really seen affection in my lifetime.
The thought of cuddling someone has never made sense to me.
Of course, I'm not an emotionless prick, and I can understand that it offers someone comfort, but in my opinion, that's what a simple, short hug is for.
Cuddling, however, is completely different and on a whole other scale.
Two people pressed against each other for an unusual length of time just sounds like a nightmare.
But clearly, I enjoy it just as much as everyone else seems to, because I'm clinging to Trix like a baby monkey hangs onto its mother.
I'd assumed it would be awkward, and I'd be counting down the seconds until I could let go, but instead, I'm hoping and praying we can stay here forever, cuddled up under a blanket, safe from the world around us.
That thought has my eyes flying open, and I carefully lift my head, cherry red strands tickling my face as they fall away.
Glancing down the length of our bodies, I drop my head back onto my pillow, huffing.
I think it's pretty clear I was the one moving last night, wanting to be as close as I could possibly get to Trix. The blanket I'd fallen asleep with is now at the end of the bed, and I've somehow snuck under the blanket Trix had.
Taking one more lungful of her sweet scent, I roll my body away, then remove the arm slung over her waist, as I gently pull my legs out from under hers.
Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling for a few moments, patiently waiting for my heart to stop pounding and my dick to cease pulsing beneath my sweats.
Once I've got control of myself, I slowly slide my arm out from beneath her pillow, not wanting to wake her.
Unfortunately, as soon as my arm breaks free, Trix rolls over, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. They finally open and settle on me, and a smile takes over her rounded face, which is, thankfully, less swollen than last night, although still bruised.
"Morning," she says, voice thick with sleep.
My heart kicks up a gear at the sound of her voice, along with the sight of her. She's so unapologetically, naturally beautiful, even with her mussed up hair, tired eyes, and indented lines across the side of her face from where it's been pressed into the pillow.
"Morning," I grumble, as I quickly get out of bed and move over to the chest of drawers to grab a T-shirt. "I'll get out of your way so you can use the bathroom and get ready."
Without waiting for a reply, I grab my cut and rush out of the room. Closing the door behind me, I rest my head against it as I sigh.
"Shit." Shaking my head, I move forward, pushing through the door opposite mine and making my way through the living room. I shuck on my leather cut as I jog down the stairs until I'm in the bar area where I find Milo already sitting in our corner booth.
He glances at me, but I turn on my heel and walk into the kitchen to brew some coffee, instead.
"Rough night?" he asks, leaning against the countertop.
Not in the mood to deal with him, I go about making my coffee, ignoring his presence completely.
Once my drink is made, I carry it through to the bar, then take a seat on one of the stools.
When Milo walks into the room after me, I roll my eyes and gulp down half of the dark liquid in preparation to handle a conversation with him.
"Is Trix still in bed?"
Rubbing my hand across my beard, I nod.
He huffs out a laugh as he sits next to me.
"So, she slept in the bed?"
My eyes dart to him, wide with alarm, but he smirks at me with a knowing look.
"Did you also sleep in the bed?"
"Fuck off, Milo."
"You did!" he shouts, smacking his hand against the bar top. "Holy shit. What happened?"
Downing the rest of my coffee, I shake my head.
"Nothing. Stop acting like a gossiping teenager," I grumble.
"Okay, still grumpy, I see. At least I know you didn't get laid, then."
Shoving him so he almost falls off his stool, I glare at him.
"You're vile."
Cocking a brow, he straightens himself up.
"You actually like her," he states, clicking his tongue. "You find it disrespectful that I'm talking about her like this, don't you?"
"Milo," I warn, narrowing my eyes.
"Damn, Reeve," he says, chuckling. "I don't blame you at all, but God. Poor Baby Bishop."
"What are you on about?"
He shrugs. "I'm just saying, I can't imagine Liam would be thrilled. He brought her here, trusting you to look after his best friend, protect her, and keep her out of trouble."
"And I'm doing exactly what he wanted, am I not?"
"Sure." He scoffs. "Sleeping in the same bed with her, starting to care for her, and wanting to fuck her is exactly what I imagine Liam wanted you to do."
Pushing off the stool, body vibrating and blood pumping, I stand toe to toe with him.
"Cut it out, Milo."
"I'm just saying, man, you're playing a dangerous game here."
Shoving him away, I spin around and charge back up the stairs. Throwing myself down on the leather sofa in the living room, I drop my head against the back of the seat and close my eyes.
Groaning, I run my hands through my hair.
Fuck.
I hate to admit it, but he has a point.
Trix is Liam's best friend, and I know he cares deeply for her, so I shouldn't be involving myself in her life, and creating more trouble for her.
Liam wasn't a thought in my mind when I saw her bruised, swollen face last night, or when I went after her dad and beat him, or when I practically demanded she move into the clubhouse.
He definitely wasn't a concern when I was listening to her story last night while silently planning a way to get revenge on the bastard who hurt her.
And I didn't take him or his feelings into consideration when I had her in my arms, blissfully ignorant of the storm I could be brewing with my actions lately.
The worst part of it all is I can't find it within myself to care.
Trix is like a drug.
I can't get enough of her.
She's intoxicating, and I think I'm slowly becoming addicted.
So desperate for another hit, I don't care about anything else.
When she's here, I spend the whole time watching her, checking up on her, and learning the way she is when she interacts with people, in awe of how she subtly changes her tone, and her demeanor accordingly.
I can tell when situations make her uncomfortable because she shrinks in on herself, and starts picking at her nail varnish, or twists her hands together, or bites her soft, plump lips.
I've learned that when she starts to get overwhelmed, she quietly removes herself from the room. She'll either go to the kitchen and make sweet snacks, or she'll go upstairs and clean, presumably needing some peace before she throws herself back into the chaos.
I also know she feels safe with me around. Whenever something happens to make her uncomfortable, her eyes always seek me out, as if she's checking I'm nearby in case she needs me.
Even when she's not here, she's constantly on my mind. So much so that Milo keeps getting mad because I'll zone out while he's talking to me, completely enraptured by my thoughts of Trix I block out everything around me.
I swear, I'm bewitched.
She cast a spell on me from the moment she got here, and I don't ever want to find the remedy.
The door across the room opens, and the woman consuming my thoughts walks in wearing a pair of tight, fitted black shorts, a red cropped top, and a black cardigan over the top.
She tucks her pin-straight hair behind her ears, then slides her hands into her pockets, and moves around the table, taking steps toward me.
"I'm unsure what to do with myself," she says as she stops beside the sofa, drawing her lip between her teeth.
Oh, shit. Does she feel equally confused by the events of last night and this morning?
"Why?"
She shrugs. "I'm never usually here this early. So I don't know what to do."
Huffing out a laugh, I stand up and shake my head.
"You're not expected to work today, Red."
She frowns.
"Why not?"
Cocking a brow, I raise my hand, stroking my thumb against her cheek. Although she subtly winces from the pain, her eyes spark with anger.
"Are you kidding me?" She lets out a humorless laugh. "I'm still very much capable of working behind a fucking bar while having a bruised face. It doesn't stop me from doing anything."
"I know it doesn't, but yesterday was a lot. We thought you'd want some time to deal with it all."
"I've been dealing with this shit my whole life, Reeve! It's nothing new to me. I don't need time to deal with it, and I can't let it interfere with the good, stable parts of my life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going downstairs to start working."
She spins around and storms to the stairs, hands fisted at her side.
I watch her leave, waiting until she's disappeared before I move my hand to my crotch, rearranging my half-mast dick.
Holy shit, Trix is sexy as hell when she's mad.