Chapter Twenty-One #2
Or maybe that is just him, because I can’t stop the way my eyes roam up and down his body.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll feed you something other than eggs and bacon.”
“I don’t think you would want me anywhere near you with how hungry I am.”
“Don’t be so sure.” He shifts off the doorframe and hands me the coffee. “I set something out for you to wear, come down when you’re ready.”
“Will we talk? Reality, not you telling me it’s not my business. My cousin makes it my business.”
He gives a terse nod, which surprises me, but I don’t show it. Once I’m dressed in a pair of his shorts, I have to roll at the waist to keep from falling down, and a black T-shirt, I check my reflection to see how bad it is.
It’s not my tired eyes or still exhausted features that catch my eye. It’s the logo over my breast. The Blackhawk Disciples logo. A genuine smile ghosts my lips before I grab the coffee and head downstairs.
Rebel is in the kitchen putting out two plates of food.
“Cute.”
His head lifts, and he eyes the shirt, his lip twitching. “The shirt, or me making you breakfast.”
“There is nothing cute about you. I should tear this thing in half.”
“Be my guest.” His gaze drifts lower.
I don’t have any clean underwear here, and my pebbled nipples poking through the fabric drive that point home.
He sets the plates on the dining table. Our relationship is different now. We’ve gone from him holding me at gunpoint to taking care of me after what happened to Colt.
The eggs suddenly look a little less appetizing, even though my stomach is growling.
“Eat your food. You’re no good to him if you pass out.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Rebel?”
He takes a moment before he speaks, as if he is figuring something out. My breath catches, not sure what is about to come out of his mouth.
His expression is intense when he looks up. “Here… I’m River.”
Oh. Damn. Right.
This feels big, like something major he’s sharing with me. He’s glaring at me like he’s waiting for me to make fun of him for allowing me to use his real name on his terms. It’s not like I haven’t done it before, mostly sarcastically.
For the last two days it’s felt like I’m floating out of my body, not being able to pin myself down and get my shit together because losing Colton will kill me. I need an anchor, something, or someone to keep me on the ground.
Him saying that, giving me that part of himself, lets something other than grief and worry flourish in my belly.
I push my chair back, Rebel watches me walk around the table. He doesn’t move when I turn and slot myself between his body and the table, wrapping my arms around his neck. It’s only when I lean down and kiss him he reacts, one large hand moving to my bare thigh.
If he thinks I’m doing this because I need to feel something other than pain, he’s wrong. It’s more than that. His eyes are hooded when I pull back and study his face.
I’m scared for a different reason now.
His sister said he doesn’t have relationships. I’ve seen Katrina pine after him and watched other women give him the eye, they’d gladly share a bed with him. He’s never paid them even a shred of the attention he is giving me now.
His throat works as he swallows, at a loss for words. My voice has gone and disappeared into the back of my throat, too.
Instead of acknowledging what is happening, Rebel takes my hip and drags me closer to his abdomen, his mouth crashing down on mine.
The kiss isn’t hard and devouring. It’s nothing like the kisses we’ve shared before. This isn’t Rebel kissing me. It’s River.
He doesn’t need to pull me closer, I do that myself, pressing my breasts against him, feeling his heartbeat as he slips his hands beneath the Blackhawk shirt and trails them up my spine. His touch is gentle, and for a second, I want to tell him to stop treating me like I’m breakable.
Rebel knows how to do that, it’s the only way we’ve been with one another. This is different, he really is someone else right now. And… I like it.
I like the gentle way he’s treating me. I never thought it was possible to crave a different side of him the way I do to the angry, violent biker.
Suddenly he stands and shifts me until my legs are around his waist, but only long enough to push the plate and cutlery out of the way and set my ass down on the table. He palms both breasts and kisses me again, leaning so I fall backward, bracing myself on my elbows.
I don’t want to lie down, I don’t want to be away from his hands and mouth and his body pressing between my legs.
His lips trail down my neck, sucking where my pulse is beating and he drags the shorts he loaned me over my hips.
Then he does something entirely Rebel like, grabs the hem of the shirt and rips it all the way up to the neck, except he can't rip it all the way.
He stops and looks down, the fabric is too thick.
My breasts are bare, but he’s eyeing the collar of the shirt, and a wicked grin spreads over his lips.
“It’s indestructible,” he smirks.
“Get me a knife and it won’t be.”
“No,” he steps back enough so he can pull the top over my head. “Not this time.”
When his lips make contact with my nipple, I gasp and pull the back of his head closer.
It’s jarring to think of him as two different beings, but it’s River who lightly presses his palm between my breasts and uses gentle pressure to lay me down flat. His lips trail lower, his tongue circling my belly button.
I’m so desperate for him, for something to ease the ache inside that my hips undulate and I wrap my thighs around his to give me leverage. In response, River presses my thighs, holding my legs wide.
“I don’t think this is fair,” I murmur, looking at his shirt.
He tugs it over his head and tosses it on the floor, then drags his sweatpants down. Initially, my eyes are locked on his rock-hard cock until the bandage on his arm catches my attention. I immediately sit up and grab his wrist.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing, Kinsley.”
“Tell me what happened, River, or I’ll get dressed and walk out of here right now.”
His finger presses down hard against my clit, making me jump. I guess saying the name he gave me permission to use gets him hot.
“Is that so?”
“Just… tell me,” I squirm trying to get away, not very hard admittedly.
“A bullet grazed me.”
My mouth falls open. “You got shot.”
“Better me than you,” he says quietly, his focus intent, the skin around his eyes tightens.
He hasn’t stopped moving his finger, the pad still stroking my clit as he pushes his middle finger inside, making my back arch involuntarily.
“When you pushed me out of the way,” I whisper. “You got shot.”
He nods. “And I’d do it again.”
River doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, kissing me to stop me asking more questions. My body floods with heat, both from how he is teasing his finger in and out of me and knowing if he hadn’t jumped in the way, I might not be here.
He saved me.
I sit further forward and push him back. River is surprised enough that I manage to move him this time. Before he can ask what I’m doing, I push off the table, drop to my knees, and take his cock into my mouth in one smooth move.
It’s the first time I’ve gone down on him, and my pussy gets even wetter as he grabs the back of my head, getting fully on board with what I’m doing.
My tongue works over the veins on the underside of his cock, and I cup his balls, making him groan and squeeze his fist around the handful of hair.
It stings a little on my scalp, but I don’t care.
Rebel saved my life. He cared enough to throw himself between me and a bullet. No one has ever committed such a selfless act for me. It’s not the same as family taking me in, or Colton making sure I’m happy.
This is different. This man was willing to give up his own life to make sure I didn’t lose mine.
I move with more purpose, sucking him in deeper till the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat. When he tells me to stop, I shake my head and keep going. I want his cum in my throat, I want him to know what it means to me, what he means to me.
“Kinsley,” he pulls me up, and I swear ferociously at him, making him grin. “Turn, now.”
“No, I want to finish.”
“Later. Turn and bend over the fucking table so I can fuck you hard enough to break it.”
Oh damn. What else can I do but what he says? I claw my nails into the surface of the wood as he pushes inside me and does what he said he would.
Except for breaking the table, that thing is as indestructible as a Blackhawk Disciples shirt.