Chapter Nineteen
Harley
Something’s not right.
The air crackles around me, shifts and changes, and my skin prickles with unease, the hairs on my neck and arms standing up with a shiver that lands right in the pit of my stomach.
Even though I’m not fully awake, I sit up, clutching the sheets to my naked chest. I let out a whimper when I shift towards Edge, but he’s already awake, reaching under his pillow for the gun he keeps there.
He must hear something that tells him everything is okay, because his fingers slide away and he gives me the shadow of a smile before he slides from bed. I watch him gather up his clothes and shrug into them.
It’s amazing that he can walk at all, because I don’t think it’s a miracle I can replicate.
After we ate cookies for breakfast, or really, dinner, last night, Edge took me back to the bedroom.
We woke throughout the night, coming together over and over again.
Sometimes he’d take mercy on me and worship my body until I was so tightly coiled that all it took was a bite on my nipple or a tiny amount of pressure with his tongue on my clit and I’d shatter apart.
Sometimes he wasn’t so gentle, because being inside me was the only thing that would satisfy us both.
I took him in my hand, my mouth… worshipped his beautiful hard body the same way he paid homage to mine.
I memorized every single detail, what he liked, what he didn’t, what he pretended not to, what made him lose control completely.
I swallow hard and the taste of him floods my mouth. I can’t tell if it’s just memory, or if it still clings to my tongue, but I savor it, salty and smoky and raw.
I let out a sigh of relief as I eye the pillow where I know Edge keeps a 9mm.
I hate that he’s seen and done things that make him feel that he needs to have it there.
I also know that it’s not loaded, that the clip is in the nightstand, first drawer.
I’m glad that whoever was out there, it’s not a threat.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing at the burning soreness between my legs. My arm throbs too, the stitches tight, but it’s definitely less painful. I take a faltering step, then another and another, embracing the pain with each movement.
I love that Edge claimed me, over and over. That he’s marked me in every possible way as his. I feel like I’m wearing his hidden brand on my skin. Or not so hidden, in the case of the bruised skin along my neck where he bit and suckled me too hard.
I shrug into a black tank top and a pair of comfortable jeans. I thought clothes would make the ache worse, but I realize that having something tucked up against me actually helps alleviate some of the throbbing.
Edge meets me in the hallway, on my way to the bathroom, to check my reflection in the mirror.
I stop, as his hard face suffuses with love when he sees me.
I’ve never seen him look at me that way before and it undoes me, guts me so that my stomach bottoms out, and my chest feels like it’s going to burst for the hundredth time.
He couldn’t afford to let me see anything but the hard mask before, but now, everything is different.
“Your poor eye.” I reach up and cup his cheek gently.
He gives me a lopsided grin and raises a brow. “That bad? Should I stick to sunglasses for a while? I’ll live though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s just really bloodshot and there’s this creepy red ring around the iris, but hey…”
He covers my hand with his massive palm, pressing my smooth skin against his stubble. I love the sharp bite into my sensitive palm.
“Who was at the door?”
He blinks hard and I watch annoyance shadow his eyes. “Wraith. He and Tracker are back. Didn’t take them long. Steel called church. I have to go.”
“When?”
“Now.” He sweeps my hand over and presses a kiss to my fingers. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours though.”
“You’re showering first?”
“Nope. Thought I’d wear your scent all over me.”
“Edge!” I exclaim. Part of me feels turned on that he wants everyone to know we’ve been together. But the other part, the part that knows things still haven’t been settled with my father, doesn’t want him walking into the clubhouse practically asking for another beating.
He grins at me and I realize he’s joking. I love the ease between us, the way he feels brand new, but also like an old lover, my protector, and my best friend wrapped up in one incredible panty-melting package.
He beats me to the bathroom and I let him go.
This is our life. The club has always been his and I won’t interfere.
I know if I go in there that we’re both going to end up naked and he doesn’t need the distraction.
I’m sore as hell, but as the shower starts to run inside and I imagine Edge under the water’s spray, the wet beads slicking over his muscles, his cock… I shake my head.
I head towards the kitchen instead, heat burning me up with every step. I don’t understand how I can have him so many times and still want him that much more.
I sit down heavily at the table and stare vacantly out the window that overlooks the weedy back yard.
I think about all the things I want to do back there, plant flowers, have a garden, get a bag of grass seed so that the lawn isn’t all weeds that have to be cut down constantly, maybe even make a patio and buy some outdoor furniture.
I let myself plan it all out so that I don’t think about the club.
I love how open Edge has been with me. How he’s been mine and mine alone.
It’s not that I don’t want to share, but I do wish I could protect him from everything he’s going to face.
I nearly laugh at the thought. I know Edge would.
He’d tell me that he doesn’t need protecting.
That he’s the one to do that for us, but still…
I wish my dad would just come around. That he’d let go of his anger and be Edge’s brother again.
That whatever is going on with this new threat would just leave us alone.
I don’t want Edge out there, risking his life, getting hurt, or worse—having to spill blood.
I know that’s how he’s lived and it’s what he does and it’s how he’s survived, but it suddenly takes on new meaning, like my childish notions have been shattered and I’m standing looking at my life, at our life, like a woman now.
My head jerks up when Edge stalks into the kitchen, freshly showered.
The dark spice of soap, shampoo, and hair oil cling to him.
He didn’t bother with shaving and that stubble is almost the start of a black beard on his jawline.
He looks good like that and my face flames as I think about the burn it makes against my skin—namely, the inside of my thighs—when his face is there.
He’s fully dressed in his usual jeans and leather vest. He already has his boots on, and he looks every inch the big, powerful biker that he is.
Although- when I look at him now, it’s different.
I feel softer. Edge is less like a hero and more my hero, because now I know.
I know that he’s ticklish on his sides right below his ribs, that when I run my hands down his chest, he always squirms a little when I reach that spot.
I know his body intimately, where each scar is, what his striated muscles feel like beneath my hands, what his neck tastes like, his chest, his…
“Insatiable,” he murmurs as he bends and places a gentle kiss to my forehead.
My skin heats up a thousand degrees, warmth radiating out from his lips, but also from his comment.
“Be careful today,” I say quietly as he steps away.
He smirks, but I don’t miss the tenderness in his eyes right before he pulls out a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Never,” he winks, before he slips them on.
After he leaves, the house is too quiet. I mean, it’s always quiet for me, but I feel the silence, the loss of Edge’s presence. I always knew the exact second he’d walk into a room, even before I saw him. His presence just fills it up, dominates it and commands attention.
I help myself to a few more cookies, since it’s basically all the food we have in the house.
I’ll have to wait for Edge to get back and convince him to go out and get some damn groceries.
Or at least let me, but I know that’s going to be a hard no.
He’ll probably make some smart ass comment about me being a real old lady now, then ask me why we need groceries when we have each other.
He’ll flash me that disarming grin and I’ll melt on the spot, and we won’t get anything done at all, just like the past day and night.
I’m sitting there in the kitchen, grinning like a complete moron when a shadow slants into my line of vision.
My head jerks up and my hand snakes out, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.
I clutch the table’s edge instead, but let out a sigh of relief when I see the halo of golden hair and the delicate blue eyes.
“Leah!” I leap up, too fast, and wince, steadying myself against the table’s edge.
Thankfully, Leah looks to my arm first, and her eyes fill with compassion.
She takes a few steps and embraces me, wrapping me up in her tight arms. I’m taller than she is, just by a little, and my face rests against her hair.
I breathe in the flowery scent of her shampoo, a scent that is instantly comforting because it’s her, this woman who is like a sister to me.
“I’m not here to talk about our men,” she says when she pulls away.
I can see the guilt in her eyes I shake my head hard. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t have anything to do with my dad acting like an ass.”
She huffs. “Yes, well, I’ve been trying to work on that, but he’s usually preoccupied when we’re together.”
The realization of what she’s talking about sinks in fully and I shudder. “Gross,” I breathe. “I don’t ever want to think about that.”
“We lived in the same house,” she giggles.
“Yeah, and I’m deaf so I never had to hear anything, thank god. I just imagined that you guys were in there, sleeping beside each other like chaste little angels.”
She giggles again, her delicate shoulders rising and falling beneath the flowered sundress she has on. Leah might be my dad’s old lady, but she doesn’t dress like one, favoring floral dresses and color.
“I’m not here to talk about Steel or Edge,” she says slowly, so that I understand every word.
She always does that, slows down her talking a little when she has something important to say, like she’s afraid I’ll miss it.
I’ve never told her not to do it, because I love that about her, her kindness and consideration for everyone.
“I’m here because I’ve got a surprise for you. ”
“If you brought groceries, I think I’d bow down and kiss your feet,” I joke, and she smiles that pretty smile she has, and I can definitely see why my dad fell in love with her. We all have.
“It’s better than that.” She takes my hand gently in hers, which is even smaller and softer than mine, and leads me gently to the front door.
My jaw nearly hits the ground when I look outside.
Tears sting my eyes and I don’t bother blinking them away, because I know they’re going to come whether I want them to or not.
Because there… filling up the front yard, are all the women from the club.
Almost all the old ladies are there and even some of the kids, the ones not in school, because I’m reminded that it’s a Monday morning.
They’re all assembled, already unloading their cars and making piles on the front lawn.
Ginger even borrowed a truck and on the trailer is a tiller and shovels and bags of grass seed.
The others are filling up their arms with things I can’t even process.
And yes, there are groceries. Bags and bags of them that Christine, cast on her arm and all, is unloading from the back of her car.
I turn to Leah, unable to even form words.
She gives me a watery smile back, because she’s crying too.
“We all got together. We know you’re starting out fresh and that’s hard for everyone, but it’s been extra hard for you.
We’re sisters. We want you to have the best start and while it hasn’t been very welcoming on the men’s front, it’s different with us. ”
“But…”
I glance over the yard, at all the women gathered there, ready to make this house truly mine, a place that I can now call home. I’d mentioned my plans for the backyard, but I can’t believe they’d do this for me with everything else that’s going on.
“No buts.” Leah’s fingers twine through mine and she squeezes gently.
“We love you, Harley. You’re our princess, but more than that, more than you being Edge’s old lady now, you’ll always be our sister and my best friend.
Let us do this for you. We each brought something as a housewarming gift. I know it’s really old fashioned—”
I shake my head again, in utter amazement. “No,” I whisper. “This is perfect. Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this.”
Leah’s eyes glisten. “I know, but we’re here now, so you better tell us where you want everything.”
“Me?”
Leah grins. “Yes. You. This is your house.”
Her words finally sink in, along with my new reality. My house. This really is my house. Edge is truly mine. Everything I’ve waited so very long for, hoped and dreamed for, it’s finally here. Words like happiness or joy don’t even begin to describe what I feel at the moment.
My chest is a mix of incredible pride and gratitude for and to these women.
Love. It’s the only word that can even come close to being enough.
I know that we have a long way to go yet, Edge and I, the club, my dad, and that there’s still a threat out there, but in this moment, this beautiful, incredible, heart wrenching moment, all I feel is love and it’s far more than enough.