Chapter 20 #3
Not only was he not rushing out the door, he was settling in. His fingers lazily trailed up and down her spine and occasionally played with the end of her French braid.
Could it be? Had this been more than only getting laid for him? Did the sex have some meaning more than a biological response?
Impossible.
Even if it didn’t, she was enjoying the quiet moment together. What could be considered the “afterglow.”
She wondered how many times he’d ever hung around after getting off.
She couldn’t imagine many, if at all.
None of the bikers she grew up with were romantic. Of course, some of the OGs were with their wives, but not all. And most of them kept those “soft” moments behind closed doors.
Again, one exception being her father.
He didn’t give a crap who saw how much he loved and worshipped Lyric’s mother. He wouldn’t give a damn if any of his brothers rode his ass about it, either.
However, as far back as she remembered, no one had.
They were one DAMC couple that never bumped heads, never gave each other shit. Not even in private. They were truly two halves of a whole and fate brought them together for a reason.
More than one, actually. The most important being the healing of Jazz’s trauma after being mentally and physically scarred after the Shadow Warriors kidnapped and assaulted her.
Lyric always compared Crow’s love for her mother to the other couples and none lived up to them.
In truth, Ashton was the opposite of her father in most ways.
Crow was cool-headed. Ash was not.
Crow was wise. Ash was intelligent, but didn’t always make the best decisions.
Despite that, she had no doubt he could love with the same intensity. The same loyalty.
She laid her cheek on his gently rising and falling chest and listened to the steady thump under her ear, timing her breathing to match his heartbeat.
When a flash of silver caught her eye, she captured the Viking hammer pendant hanging from around his neck and studied it carefully in her palm.
Those tattooed fingers closed around hers, drawing her attention. “Let Avery know you ain’t goin’ out tonight.”
Her stomach dropped and a sour taste filled her mouth.
Did he have sex with her simply so he could control her? Did he really think if he relented to having sex with her, she’d do anything he wanted?
She dropped the pendant back onto his chest and slipped to his side.
When he tried to pull her back over him, she resisted.
“My plans haven’t changed.” Because in reality, they hadn’t. She was still planning on unpacking once he left. Only, he didn’t need to know that.
“Lyric—”
Before he could finish with whatever bossy bullshit he was going to say next, a noise came from the living room at the front of the apartment.
Had Bri come back up already?
“Hey, Lyric, you want to help me make dinner?” echoed down the short, narrow hallway.
Oh shit. Busted.
Her eyes met Ash’s.
Wearing a deep frown, he jackknifed up in the bed and glanced around. “Goddamn it. What fuckin’ time is it?”
“My digital clock is still packed. Check your cell phone.”
He didn’t do what she suggested, he simply climbed out of bed and headed straight for his pile of clothes. “Gotta go.”
“Probably a good idea,” she said under her breath, sitting up.
“You can drink at The Iron Horse for free. No fuckin’ reason to spend scratch on goddamn strippers and over-fuckin’-priced booze at another bar,” he grumped while pulling on his clothes.
“We’ll take that into consideration.”
He glanced up from fastening his jeans and belt. “Ain’t a suggestion, woman.”
“Then you’re saying it’s an order?”
Instead of answering that directly, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped on his cut. “I’m the damn sergeant at arms and you’re part of this club. Take it how you fuckin’ take it.”
“Wow,” she mouthed.
His eyes narrowed on her. “Got a lotta goddamn responsibility and as you fuckin’ know, one of them is keepin’ all you women safe. And right now, there are too many threats to our club.”
“So, does that mean you don’t want the Angels of Fury to do club runs because it’s not safe?” She air-quoted the last word. When he didn’t say anything, she shook her head. “It’s one thing to want everyone to stay safe, it’s another to be a controlling asshole.”
He stared at her for a few heartbeats as he finished putting on his boots, then stood, shook his head, and turned toward the door.
“Tell you what. You wanna drink at a strip club, you can do that at Heaven’s Angels.
Problem solved.” With that, he yanked open the bedroom door and strode out, closing it behind him harder than necessary.
“That’s not even the same thing!” she yelled at the closed door.
“Holy shit! You’re still here? Did you help her unpack?” Bri’s voice was easy to hear, even in Lyric’s bedroom. Proof that the apartment was small enough that both women would be able to hear whatever the other was doing. And that included entertaining men.
The only response she heard was a deep grunt and the slam of the front door.
Bri’s snicker traveled down the hallway.
Lyric frowned up at the ceiling. Here she thought she’d gotten what she wanted.
Clearly, she had not.