Chapter Nineteen
Kinsley
“How’d you convince him to let you open the bar?” I ask, sliding my ass onto a stool where Raven is waiting to serve her next customer.
“You mean how did he come crawling to me to say we’re losing money, and I need to re-open the bar.”
“Is that really what happened?” I smirk.
“It is in my head,” Raven grins. “Who cares, the place is open.”
Seems like she cares, but Raven is the only friend I have here, and coming from someone who finds it hard to make friends, I don’t want to push her away. Finding out I’m sleeping with her brother might do that, so it is in my best interest not to get attached.
I like Raven, she’s funny, fierce, takes no shit, and says nothing she doesn’t stand behind. Talking to Rebel about Eloise last night brought back a lot of bad shit, but it also made me realize how much I’ve lost.
Our mutual friends sided with me when it all came to light, because they were as horrified as I was to discover who my stalker was, but something like that changes the way people look at you. Even though I wasn’t the bad guy, our friend group was damaged by what Eloise did.
Maybe those associated with an MC are the only ones who can handle the person I’ve become. Maybe they see something darker in me.
Rebel doesn’t just see it, he’s been a part of it. He’s crawled into my head and swirled his finger around in my brain, as easily as he swirled his knife inside of me last night.
“You okay?”
I choke on my breath. Here I am wanting to be friends with this woman while thinking about what most would consider the depraved thing Rebel did to me. Not good.
“Tired, I worked the last two days on the mural.”
“I saw,” she grabs a glass from overhead and takes a bottle from the fridge behind her. When the glass is full, she sets it in front of me. “It’s looking like a real image now.”
“I’d take offense if I didn’t understand that is how spray paint art works.”
“No offense meant. I kind of wanted to ask what you charge.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I have a wall in my apartment, I’ve never known what to do with it and can’t find any pictures I like. Maybe you could look at it one day, give me a quote.”
It takes a few beats before I answer. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”
“Why the hesitation?”
“No reason. It’s been a while.”
“A while since what?”
Since I had a conversation with someone who wasn’t my cousin or a surly biker I’m struggling to keep in his box.
“Someone other than family commissioned me,” I laugh, giving her a variation of the truth.
Months had gone by back in LA and I hadn’t been able to pick up a brush, spray can or a charcoal stick. When I got back here, I couldn’t stop. My need to create came back in a big way the minute I saw that wall Colt wanted me to paint.
“Kinsley, you’re insanely talented. I checked out your work.”
“Online?” My heart thunders. It was one thing to tell Rebel about Eloise, I don’t want people reading up about it on the internet.
“Well, yeah, but Father Eastwood sent me links.”
“He did,” I let out a slow breath.
Raven is too excited to notice as she pulls up some links and scrolls through my work. Pieces I did in college, for gallery showings and commissions. Even in small ways, Colt is saving me, sending her links so she doesn't have to search herself.
I hide my face behind the glass as Raven keeps showing me my work. Paintings I haven’t seen in years or thought about.
She lets me take her phone when she comes to a piece that she says she likes the most. I can feel her staring as I trace my fingers over the image, and it blurs slightly. At first, I think it’s because I’ve pinched the screen, but am mildly horrified to realize I’m getting emotional.
“What’s wrong?”
My brain registers Rebel’s voice, but I stare at the painting. I did it for my finals in junior year.
“Why do you think something is wrong?” Raven asks. “We’re looking at her art.”
I can smell his cologne before he moves closer, putting an elbow on the bar and leaning nearer, effectively blocking Raven from seeing me. He takes the phone and looks at the image.
The smile on my face is forced, but Raven doesn’t notice. She tells her brother to stop butting in when she is trying to book me for some artwork.
His head whips to her, then back to me, and he shoves the phone into her hand. “I need to talk to Kinsley a second.”
“About what-” Raven cuts herself off, and it’s her turn to stare between the two of us. She rapidly blinks at her brother, then turns to me.
God, I really don’t want her to hate me, or think I’m anything like Katrina or the other women who throw themselves at him. For a moment there, it felt like there might be something more to us than acquaintances.
“Listen here, assbutt,” she points her finger at Rebel.
He gives her a sideways glance. “Do not make her leave. I like her. She’s funny, talented, makes Father Eastwood happy, and she makes me laugh.
She’s real and not afraid to stand up for herself or others, and I want her to stay and get to know her because I would really like to be her friend. ”
My mouth falls open and Rebel’s head swivels toward her, but he keeps his eyes locked on mine for a few beats.
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in years,” I grin.
Raven blows me a kiss. Then pulls a face clearly aimed at her brother but not looking in his direction. “Chicks before dicks, Kinsley. Don’t forget that. And this one is the biggest dick around here.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rebel pinches the bridge of his nose.
There is a joke on the tip of my tongue about him having the biggest dick, but I don’t think either sibling would appreciate that.
“And I think what you meant to say was, Kinsley, would you be willing to come over here with me for a moment?”
He gives her the middle finger, then puts a hand on my hip to help me off the stool. During all those revelations, I kind of forgot he wants to talk to me.
“Do you have a safe word?” Raven asks.
“What?” I splutter around a laugh.
“Yell it and I’ll come save you.”
“She doesn’t need a damn safe word. Go serve customers or something.”
“Caterpillar,” she calls as someone approaches to order, pausing at her shrieking the name of a bug across the room.
“Caterpillar?” I laugh.
“Yeah,” she holds up her little finger and waggles it. “Cos he has a caterpillar dick.”
“Fuck off, Raven.”
He ignores the people laughing and pulls me along with him to a corridor at the back of the bar. I’ve not had to use the restrooms in here, but I know this is where they are. Is he seriously going to drag me into a bathroom right now?
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Don’t ask questions.”
“Do I need to yell caterpillar? Because I will.”
I open my mouth to do it, and Rebel puts a hand over my lips, cutting me off. I shake my head, but he moves me back against the wall so I can’t get away. There is a split second of fear that shivers down my spine, but it disappears as soon as he presses his body against mine.
I lick his palm and he smirks, holding it there a moment longer, then moving it enough so only his thumb is touching my lower lip.
“Exactly what do I need to do to make you use your safe word, little villain?”
He forces me to spread my legs enough that he can press his thigh against my pussy, which I immediately lose control over.
“We both know I could push your face into this wall and fuck you so hard you can barely stand and you still wouldn’t yell…caterpillar,” he breathes that last word so close I feel the heat of his breath on my skin.
Jesus, he is so hot, he makes me stupid. How can he go from what he did at the annex to getting one of his brothers to bring me coffee and a pastry, then threatening to fuck me against a wall where anyone could walk around and see us?
And why do I kind of want him to do it?
He puts his forearm against the wall at the side of my head and picks up my hair, running it through his fingers. “That painting,” he says.
It’s like a glass of cold water has tipped over my head at the reminder. My instinct is to push him away, but Rebel anticipates it in a way I never would have expected. He kisses me.
Not a rough claiming or clashing of tongue and teeth. He really kisses me. The kind of kiss that feels like it’s not only your mouth being taken, but your whole body.
I never knew he was capable of these slow, teasing strokes of his tongue. Nothing else touching, just our mouths. My entire body shivers into it, relaxing in a way that feels both foreign and familiar at the same time.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a kiss from Rebel if he didn’t bite my bottom lip. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and make my back arch and moan into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he groans and lowers his forehead to my shoulder.
Resisting the urge to smell his hair is hard, but I somehow manage. My hands have found their way to his waist, more in a way of anchoring me than anything else.
“What are you doing?” I ask the completely obvious question.
“Raven didn’t understand, but I did. I saw your face when you looked at that painting,” he lifts his head so our faces are only inches apart.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lift my chin, it was in challenge, but I know what’s coming.
“It represents your parents.”
It’s not a question. I’m stunned he even figured it out. Not many people do, which is down to no one at UCLA knowing my history.
Moving away from the security of the family who took me in, a lot of memories of my parents reared their heads. A desire to find out if she is still alive overtook me, and I drew endless portraits of her, or how I remembered her.
Uncle Joe listened to my wishes when I asked him to remove all reminders of them. To this day, I haven’t seen a photograph of her.
Not that I need to. Uncle Joe confirmed that when he saw me. A lot of those paintings were like self-portraits. Most of them are lost now. Either destroyed by me or left in some storage room at the university, unclaimed and unwanted.