Chapter Twenty-Two
Rebel
It is possible to fracture your cock?
It’s not helping that Kinsley just walked down the stairs, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, wearing tight jeans and a black shirt that doesn’t quite reach her waist. She finishes the look with that hot as fuck red leather jacket.
I’d cleaned it for her last night because she’d been mumbling about throwing it away.
Patrick is lucky I wasn’t around when he gathered some of her clothes before the cops shut it down. I’d smack the shit out of him for touching her things.
We spent hours fucking all over the loft. Upstairs, downstairs, in the shower. Up against the wall of windows overlooking the street.
It made Kinsley wilder, knowing someone might see her pressed against the window as I knelt behind her and tongue-fucked her.
I’ve never been with a woman like Kinsley. Someone I can’t get enough of despite my determination to never let a woman under my skin. Anyone who comes after her will never compare.
That thought only pisses me off because I don’t want anyone after her. I want her. Only her.
Fuck, another man touching her makes me want to set the world on fire.
I need to double-check Blaze did what I asked with that bitch in LA. Over my dead body is she getting another chance to hurt Kinsley, I don’t give a shit how much money her family has. Kinsley has a whole MC behind her, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
That cunt terrorized her for years. She’ll be spending the rest of her life in the psych hospital, I’ll make damn sure of it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I growl.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she stops in front of me. “That isn't your usual resting bitch face.”
“My… what?”
She smirks. “Are you thinking about killing someone, Rebel?”
I’m thinking of killing a lot of different people, but she doesn’t need to know that. The way her smile grows tells me she does and won’t give me shit about it.
Bringing her into my world puts her in danger, and she deserves peace after everything she’s been through. It’s too late. She’s already mixed up in it. And I don’t want to let her go.
She lets out a squeal of surprise when I move nearer and grab her by the ass. The length of her body is tight to mine, and I smooth my hand up the front of her t-shirt. She’s braless.
“Not a chance.”
“No one brought me any underwear,” she shrugs.
Her teeth clamp down on her lower lip when I pinch her nipple. I’m part relieved Patrick didn’t touch her bras and panties, but mostly I’m pissed. She’s not going out like this.
I know the men at the MC, they might not touch her when they realize she’s with me, but they will look. There isn’t a man alive who won’t picture what’s beneath her shirt when they see how naturally her tits move and the hard nipples poking through.
“If you think this is the first time I’ve been at the bar with no underwear-”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
Kinsley kisses me and pushes me back, walking around me. “Let’s go. I need to get to the hospital after we’ve been to the clubhouse.”
I hurry after her and put my palm on the door before she can open it, getting all up behind her and caging her against it. “We’ll get into the annex and get more of your things.”
She turns and glares up at me. “Don’t think you can control what I do, Rebel.”
“You need more clothes.”
“Exactly how long do you think I’m staying here?”
“As long as it takes to release the crime scene,” I say, gentling my tone.
Reminding her Colton was hurt is one thing, remembering a murder was committed there makes the fight drain out of her.
“Kinsley,” I stroke her cheek. The last thing I want is to upset her. But I know what she needs, even if she doesn’t. “You need your sketchpads and charcoal.”
Her brow pinches as she struggles with me understanding that about her.
“It makes sense to get your pussy and tits covered while we’re at it.”
She slaps my chest, but I’ll take it because her irritation overrides the sadness. Anything I can do to take her mind off it. There is only so long before she focuses on what happened and who is responsible.
I have no fucking clue how she will react to me after that. Everything we did here, me opening up to her, telling her to call me by my real name. And finding out I took a bullet for her, could all be shattered when we get to the clubhouse and she sees what is waiting there for her.
“Don’t think I forgot you didn’t tell me what is going on.
Just because you gave me all those orgasms doesn’t change the fact you got out of it earlier.
But you won’t get out of it forever. I’ll find out what I want to know, however I need to.
So stop with the posturing and thinking you own me and let’s go. ”
Kinsley clings to me as we ride the short distance from my loft. Each passing mile is making me more apprehensive. It’s not a feeling I’m used to, but if I take her in the opposite direction, like I want to, she’ll lose her shit.
I remain on the bike when she gets off, pulling off her helmet. She takes a couple of steps away but doesn’t try to cross the street. There is row after row of flowers and candles, and a few people standing behind the police cordon, heads bowed in prayer.
I give her a moment to take it all in. At least someone has cleaned the blood from the steps. She startles a little when I step up beside her and reach for her helmet. Our eyes meet, all the words we need to say pass through that look.
The little angry line between her brows appears, and she turns toward the clubhouse. She said she wanted to speak to Nero about what he’s doing for the church, and given how much he has integrated us with them, he’ll want to give her that reassurance.
He’s paid for Marisol’s funeral and offered to help with Colton’s medical expenses, but the church rebuked him, saying they have their own insurance. Turns out not all men of the cloth are as welcoming as Colton.
The two men who stayed at the hospital reported back they’re getting hostile looks and requests to leave whenever a priest shows up. I’ve told Kinsley none of this.
We need to get this over with so I can take her to the hospital, then get back to planning what happens with the Sinners, and Nero’s intentions with Kivisto.
The door to the clubhouse opens as we’re approaching and Cipher steps out, putting a cigarette between his lips. When he sees us, he stops, one very quick glance at Kinsley, then he looks at the sky.
He is the last person I want to see. This bastard had his hands all over her not so long ago.
“Nope,” Kinsley grabs my arm and tugs me back as Cipher takes the opportunity to get away, hopping the small wall into the bar’s parking lot. “What happened with him was before-
“I don’t care,” I lean in close. “You were mine then and you’re mine now.”
“It didn’t mean anything. I just wanted-”
“I swear to God you better not say what I think you’re about to say.”
I haven’t forgotten what happened that night when I dragged Cipher off her. The thought of him being in my position that night.
“You don’t own me, Rebel.”
She drags me back out of the red mist with her angry statement, the fire in her eyes makes me act like a childish dick. “That isn’t what you were saying this morning.”
“I’ve come to my senses.”
She’s impossible, and from the glint in her eye, she knows she’s getting under my skin. I’m well aware I don’t own her. No one does.
It will not stop me letting everyone else around her know, they touch her, they lose their hands. That asshole Mark can attest to that.
There is no way I can keep fighting it. My cock isn’t broken, it just knows it doesn’t want anyone else.
It’s brightly lit inside the clubhouse, and there are more men here than usual.
And people I never expected to find here.
We haven’t taken two steps inside when that little pissing, barking fur ball is charging at our feet.
Not this fucking time. I grab it, making sure it’s turned away in case it decides to shower us.
Kinsley looks at me, holding it with locked arms, straight out in front of me.
“What is wrong with you, it’s a puppy, not a bomb.”
“You’ll thank me for saving your shoes.”
Taylor is sitting at the table talking to Beast and hasn’t noticed me manhandling her little menace, but Oscar has. He is coming straight at me.
I look around for help and spot Nero standing in the kitchen area. He’s not sitting on top of Taylor, but he might as well be. Taylor turns when Oscar squeals in excitement. It also draws Nero’s attention.
His brow creases when he sees me holding Ollie out in front of me, and Oscar grabbing onto my jeans, laughing like a maniac.
“I thought this place was full of badass bikers,” Kinsley stage-whispers to me.
“This is new.”
Kinsley is about to ask another question when Oscar is swept up and Nero settles him on his forearm. Oscar instantly clutches the collar of his cut and grins at his dad.
“What are they doing here?” I ask.
He eyes Kinsley before answering. “Jesse needed a break, and this is the next best place.”
What he really means is, he wants them where he is. He can watch them here. It’s taken a toll on him being away from them. He might not show it outwardly, but I’ve known him too long not to see he needs them close.
There is nothing less imposing about him, just because he is holding a toddler. Taylor will tell anyone that it’s how she first met him, with his rage face, as she calls it, and his son in his arms.
The only thing that prevented her being scared was her protectiveness over Jesse and the fact Oscar hit Nero in the face. She loves recounting that part.
Kinsley isn’t deterred, regardless of the President holding a child.
Or me holding a puppy. I set the little shit down, it sniffs my feet and I take a long step backward till it runs away.
Oscar makes grabby hands in its direction, and understanding baby sign language, Nero sets his son on the ground.
We watch Oscar run after the dog, and he settles on a rug beneath the cinema sized TV, playing and giggling with the pup.