Chapter Six
LONG AS YOU LET ME
Taking a deep breath, I shift my hips, plant one hand in the grass, and reach for the sky.
All my stress and anxiety melt away when I slowly release my breath.
Drawing in another breath, I hold the triangle pose for a ten count before shifting into downward dog.
Feeling completely relaxed, I close my eyes and fold into the lotus position as I repeat positive affirmations and think about the last few days.
For the last week, things have been going so perfectly.
Every morning, Nash and I make breakfast together before I take him to daycare.
I didn’t want to let him out of my sight, but Sparrow assured me that it was a part of his routine and something he loves.
After thinking about it, I didn’t want to be selfish by taking that away from him.
So, for the last six days, our routine has been making breakfast, eating, and then heading out to daycare.
I’ve also been working on mending my relationship with my sister.
We’ve been spending a few hours together in the afternoons, and it’s been cathartic.
I hadn’t realized how far apart we’d drifted until I got to know this new version of her.
Watching her with her husband has been quite entertaining.
I’m pretty sure they argue just so they can make up.
She gives him shit about being bossy, but I can tell that she loves every second of it.
As much as it pains me, I think it’s some twisted form of foreplay for them.
Then there’s my nephew. I don’t even know where to begin about how precious Xavier is.
He’s only an infant, but he’s the spitting image of his father, both in looks and brooding personality.
Being around him every day has given me a small case of baby fever.
I’ve also gotten to know Sparrow better.
This thing happening between us is intense and fast, but it’s been amazing.
I thought he was crazy at first when he said I was his, but I feel it now.
Down to my bones, I believe we were made for each other.
We’ve spent our days hanging out around the house until it’s time to pick up Nash.
At night, he loves me with his hands while we make out like teenagers.
I’ve never known any man like him. He’s not afraid to say what he wants, and he keeps telling me that I’m his.
I love how he’s always touching me and wanting me close.
Opening my eyes, I find Sparrow sitting on the porch steps, watching me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” I tease.
“Probably, but it’s cruel and unusual punishment to be out here in panties and a shirt that just barely covers your tits.
How can you expect me not to stare?” Looking down at my black yoga shorts and crop top, I guess that’s fair.
In my defense, I didn’t figure he’d be out of bed for at least another hour or so.
We kind of have a routine going now. I get up and get Nash off for the day, then come back and do yoga.
He usually doesn’t wake up until I’m getting out of the shower.
“Shorts. They’re not panties. They’re shorts.”
“Call em’ what you want as long as nobody gets to see em’ but me,” he says, moving towards me.
“Might be a little late for that since Sailor’s the one that bought them.”
“Were you and he . . .?”
“What?! No! Sailor is . . . my friend?”
“You don’t sound so sure about that, babe.”
“I’m sure. I don’t know how to really explain what Sailor is to me.
He just showed up one day at the rehab center and kept coming back to visit, even when I was mean to him.
Withdrawals and all . . . anyhow, as I was allowed more freedom, he would come to visit more and more.
We became friends. I’m not sure how he knew, but he recognized something in me and asked if I wanted to learn self-defense so that I would always be able to protect myself.
” He also took me off the grounds and taught me how to shoot, but I’m not sure how Sparrow would feel about that, so I keep that little nugget to myself.
“Sailor’s a part of the underground cage fighting circuit, darlin’. What exactly did he train you to do?” he asks, sauntering in my direction.
“To protect myself. Do you have a computer?” Grabbing his outstretched hand, I let him pull me to my feet and feel my cheeks warm when he pulls me into his chest for a hug. For a badass biker, he’s kind of a sweetheart with all the touchy, feely stuff.
“Whatcha need a computer for, Birdie’?”
“I want to look for a job.”
“There’s one in the office, and the password is in the desk drawer. You want to head over to the clubhouse with me?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Need to go inside and put some clothes on first, baby. I prefer not to have to kill anyone until after I’ve had breakfast.” I burst out laughing at his joke, but he keeps staring at me with a straight face.
“Are you serious?”
“I’ve already told you, Birdie. I want you.
I’ve wanted you since the moment I set my eyes on you in New York.
You’re sweet, kind, and so damn sexy. You’re fucking perfect, baby,” he declares, squeezing my ass.
“You don’t realize what it means to be mine yet, but you will.
Just know that I don’t want anyone seeing what belongs to me.
” Holy shit! Rubbing my legs together, I can feel the wetness from my arousal.
I guess that clears up the little bit of doubt I’ve had.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever said anything so sweet to me before,” I admit as I melt into him. Some may think he’s an asshole for being possessive, but when you’ve never felt like you belong, it feels like security.
He lifts my chin and gently pecks my lips once, twice, and again before taking my mouth in a long, passionate kiss.
Looping my arms around his neck, I moan as he hauls me up his hard body.
With my legs wrapped around his waist, I hold on tight as he moves up the porch and into the house.
He grinds his hard length against my center after setting me on the counter.
Desperate for more friction, I rock my hips, and he abruptly pulls away, burying his face in my chest as he labors for breath.
“Can I taste you, baby?” he pants.
“Please!” I beg, rolling my hips, needing something.
Pulling back, he watches my face as he slowly slides my tank over my breasts and head. He repeats the process with my sports bra before reverently cupping both mounds and strumming my nipples with his thumbs.
“Goddamn,” he rasps, watching my face as he blows across my nipple, then laps at the pebbled bud.
“That feels so good,” I breathe as my head falls back on my shoulders.
Leaning back on my hands, I lift my bottom so he can wrestle my shorts off.
This isn’t the first time he’s seen me naked, we’ve been showering together at night, but for some reason, I feel open and raw when he sees my scars on display.
“Don’t! Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, baby.”
“But the scars . . .”
“No! You’re fucking perfect, Birdie. The scars don’t change a goddamn thing.
” Before I can think of how to reply, he ducks his head and flicks his tongue across my clit.
Grabbing my leg, he lifts one and then the other over his shoulder before sucking the hardened nub into the warmth of his mouth. My hips buck in response.
“Oh God,” I moan as he slides two fingers into my pussy and curls them, stroking just the right spot.
He does this over and over until I can’t take any more.
I feel his teeth graze my clit before he sucks it back into his mouth.
I feel a sharp sting, no doubt from the nip he just gave the little bundle of nerves.
The slight zing of pain only adds to my arousal.
“Sparrow,” I call out frantically, scared of the orgasm that’s building. Before I can beg him to stop, my pussy flutters, gripping his fingers tightly as a pleasure I’ve never experienced before surges through my body. Falling backward onto the counter, I work to catch my breath.
“Wow,” I breathe as I stare at him in wonder. I bite my lip as he rises to his feet, adjusting himself in the process.
“You’re sexy as fuck when you come,” he growls.
“What about you?” I ask, nodding to the erection pressing against his jeans.
“Told you, baby, this is about making you feel good. Don’t worry about me,” he says, lifting me off the counter and setting me on my feet.
“Go get dressed while I wash up.” When I go to move around him, he stops me. He scans me from head to toe, grinning like the cat who got the cream. He pecks my lips once more before patting my bottom and sending me on my way like he didn’t just rock my world.
“Are you sure I should be here?” I ask as Sparrow wraps his hand around mine.
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure everyone in there hates me.”
“They don’t hate you. They don’t even know you. And once they do get to know you, they’re all going to love you and wish they had you.”
“You’re delusional. You know that, right?”
“How do you figure?”
“Nobody’s going to want me like that.”
“Afraid you’re the delusional one, baby. You’re fucking perfect, and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. Not that it matters because I’ll gut anyone who tries to take you from me.” I know he’s completely serious, so I don’t even bother telling him how crazy that is.
As the door slams behind us, we’re met with a couple of curious onlookers and some murmured whispering.
I hadn’t expected anything less, and Sparrow doesn’t seem to care what anyone in the room thinks.
Deciding to take a page from his book, I just go with it.
If he wants me here with him, then who am I to argue?