Chapter 11 #2
“Brotherhood was enough, and friendship, until I started seeing the guys with their old ladies, their wives, and their families. It’s a different level of special.
I thought love was pretty much bullshit until I witnessed how real it was for them.
” I want to tell her more about the club, to get her to see it the way I do.
“I know you think that him being involved with the club is dangerous, but in reality, it’s a layer of safety.
We all look out for each other. That means that you have twenty-some guys who would give their life for you, and a whole lot of their extended families who care too. ”
“I’m starting to realize that,” she says quietly, but not the defeated kind of quiet.
“It wasn’t a shameless plug.”
“I know.”
She turns to reach for the bulb she wants to take out, but the ladder rocks with her motion.
It sways and she screams. I immediately press my back against the steps, blocking her from falling, and wrap my arms around what I can reach, which is basically the whole ladder.
She’s still wobbly when I offer my hand to help her down.
She takes it, her fingers so slight in my palm, but she latches on with a death grip.
Her eyes are wide and dark, fringed by the thickest sandy lashes, the same color as her hair.
I’ve already had this woman in my arms when I caught her so she didn’t tumble into a coffee table.
I shouldn’t be seriously contemplating what it would be like if she came to me all on her own with that look on her face that says she wants to be held.
After a bad day. In a rough moment. Because she loves being close. Or for no reason at all.
I wish my brain wasn’t going to all the places that scream intimacy and connection.
It’s hard not to look at Sloane and wonder what it would be like to have her by my side.
To have those smiles aimed at me, and maybe even have a few that she doesn’t give to anyone else.
What would it be like to get close? To love someone and be loved in return?
Those aren’t questions that have kept me up at night. Not until Sloane.
She stops blinking and just stares at me.
My heart hammers and beads of sweat form on my forehead.
Am I being completely transparent? Does she know what I’m thinking and feeling?
She’s far too kind to laugh at me developing an almost instantaneous crush on her.
She’d probably assure me that it doesn’t matter that I’m not classical handsome, and that I’m far too intense in all the ways that are wrong, and wrong in other ways that I should be right.
She’d let me down easy. She’d tell me that it takes more than just a feeling, a connection, that wild notion of being seen as more than just a grumpy, quiet, hulking beast with more muscles than braincells to spare.
She’d tell me that she appreciates my unfiltered persona and honesty, but that…
Sloane tilts her face up and her lips part.
I don’t know what I’m doing when I set my hand on her shoulder.
All of a sudden, it’s there. She’s still clinging to my hand.
The heat of her soaks into my palms. I’m close enough to smell the vanilla on her breath and the sweetness of burnt sugar and dark coffee that seems to have saturated the entire café.
She’s frozen with her lips parted, staring up at me. I don’t know what she’s searching for. I’m equally as frozen. Whatever I’m looking for, I know I’ll find it in her. She’s selfless and courageous, talented and so smart.
My chest tightens, my breath glides out of my lungs, and then my hand is tangling in Sloane’s thick, sandy hair.
I tilt her head back gently, take one step closer, and my lips descend to hers.
Our mouths meet. For a heartbeat, she’s frozen, and I think I’ve read this all wrong, misjudged the way she was looking at me, but then her hands are in my hair.
Her lips part and I taste the sweetness of her, and the soft little whimper she makes.
I melt against her, my hand at her waist tugging her into me. Her softness is jarring against the hard planes of my body. Jarring and right. Perfect. That’s what she is, if I had to choose a single word. Perfect.
She plants her hand on my abs and shoves. Hard. I have both my feet on the floor and I’m used to being well balanced. I’m twice her size, and I don’t move, but she does. She propels off me, but she doesn’t bounce back. She rips away, stumbles, and catches herself against the counter.
Her eyes are wide, pupils blown out so that very little green is visible.
Sloane chokes on an inhale but immediately forces another down.
I’ve seen enough people preparing to defend themselves that I know what it looks the second she throws her armor on and prepares for battle.
I purposely drop mine and let her see me vulnerable.
I’m shaken too. I don’t know why I did that, other than that everything in me was screaming at me to kiss her.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t… it was bad timing.”
“Bad timing?” she parrots in disbelief. “I just finished saying that I don’t believe in romance, that I’m not looking for drama, and that I have a full life that doesn’t need more.
I’m not looking to start over or start something.
I told you that I’m an all-in person. Does that seem like a signal for casual sex?
What about me appears so desperate and lonely that you had to do that? ”
“It wasn’t—that’s not why.” I start to stammer because I’m so floored that she’d think that. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. It felt right, so I… acted. I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again.”
“Oh my god, you idiot! We were having a nice time down here. We were talking, and opening up, and it was all good. I told you things that I haven’t told anyone else. And then you kissed me. The one thing that would fuck everything up! You thought oh, sweet, I’ll just do that. Yup. It’ll be great.”
“You have every right to be angry. It was tone deaf. I’m a caveman.”
Her face twists. She might be angry, but she’s still the same sweet, considerate person underneath. “Shut up. Stop apologizing.”
Anxiety twists my gut painfully. I didn’t want to pretend to be something I wasn’t, but I didn’t have to kiss her. She’s right about that. I could have said something. I should have. I gave Liam all those lectures about playing with fire. What the fucking fuck am I doing?
“I should apologize. It was stupid. I normally have perfect control over myself. That was spontaneous. I didn’t think about it, and I should have.”
“Yeah. You should have. What about me screams that I want to have a situationship? I’ve already admitted that I find the most inappropriate men attractive, and it’s not going to happen.
I shut that down. You’re supposed to be here doing—doing bodyguard shit, or whatever.
You’re my son’s good friend. Maybe his best friend.
You’re going to be a part of that club brotherhood together.
Liam respects you. He probably even looks up to you and some of the other guys.
This is fucked, Cruz. It’s not going to work. It can’t happen.”
“I know.” I swallow hard, hoping to wet my dry, pasty mouth. “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
“Why did it happen at all? Am I an easy target? Did you feel sorry for me? What? What was it?”
My head is starting to throb. Better late than never.
Fucking not. I try to push thoughts past the brick wall of pain, and scrape a few more out of my throat for Sloane.
I can’t leave things like this. That would be wrong on every level.
“It wasn’t that I felt sorry for you. That was not it.
At all. It just felt… that I should do it, and if I didn’t do it, it would be terrible. Not just for me.”
“Mm, the world will totally stop if you don’t kiss me.”