CHAPTER 19
GRAYCIE
It feels strange stepping into my garage apartment now. I don’t like this feeling, like this isn’t my space and I can’t trust it hasn’t been violated. The way my stomach roils makes me feel unsteady and uneasy.
What if Sylvester is in town? What if he’s the one who broke into Bunz Out? What if he’s been here too?
My steps are hesitant as I step inside the place I’ve called home since arriving in Dogwood Ridge. The lock wasn’t tampered with, and it doesn’t appear that anyone has been here, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Maybe it’s unfounded. Maybe it’s just my fear taking hold.
I feel like a skittish animal.
“Do you think he was here?” My voice is soft and shakes slightly with vulnerability.
“Angel,” the deep rumble of my man’s voice soothes the jagged parts of me, “we don’t know who broke into Bunz Out. I can’t say it was him. I can’t say it wasn’t. But it doesn’t look like anyone has been here.”
I nod slowly as my eyes trail over the space, again, this time trying to see it without fear. But it doesn’t work.
Fuck, I hate this.
I hate how Sylvester still has the power to take away my peace. The worst part is that I don’t even know if he was here. It could be nothing or it could be anything.
No matter what, this feeling of foreboding isn’t something I can shake off. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw the handle on the back door fall to the ground.
“Right,” I try to sound strong, but my voice comes out far weaker than I would like it too.
When Turner pulls me into his chest, I rest my head right over where his heart is beating. It helps to sooth some of the frayed feeling I can’t seem to shake.
“I’ve got you, Graycie,” I feel his words reverberate through his chest as his hand runs up and down my back.
“I know,” even though I whisper the words, I know he can hear them.
His hand stills for a moment and I can feel what’s coming. But it’s time for me to step up and get in front of it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up this morning or tell you I wanted to go to work ahead of time. I was starting to feel trapped in the clubhouse and I needed to get out. I was hoping something normal would help me get rid of the restless feeling,” I admit.
He makes a humming sound, and I can feel the tension in his body.
“I was so fucking scared when Dad called, and I realized you weren’t in bed next to me,” I can hear the vestiges of the fear in his voice, the panic.
“It took me a moment to even realize what he was telling me because I couldn’t focus with not knowing where you were.
Then when I realized he was with you, at the bakery, I ran to Ryker’s door and started banging.
Everything else was a blur until I could get my eyes on you. ”
“I’m sorry I scared you.” I don’t know what else to say. “I’m lucky Warden was in the kitchen and offered to go with me. I realize now how stupid I was being. I just,” I sigh, “I needed a break from being the victim, and feeling like my scars were on display all the time.”
“No one looks at you and sees a victim,” his voice is solid, firm, like he believes his words without second guessing them. I wish I could be so sure. “No one sees your scars as a weakness.”
I press my forehead against his chest, part of me wishing I could get closer and the rest of me wishing I could just disappear and not deal with any of the shit swirling around me. Haven’t I dealt with enough?
You knew Sylvester was never going to let you go without a fight.
“Maybe,” it’s the only concession I can give, “but I see them as a weakness. They’re my reminder, my shame.”
Turner’s hands dive into my hair, tugging the strands until he’s looking into my eyes. “Playboy could try and cover them.”
My jaw drops as I process his words. Cover them? What is he talking about? “I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“Playboy runs Ridge Tattoos,” he explains.
“You think he could cover them with tattoos?” It’s something I’ve never considered since I don’t have any tattoos already.
I never considered inking something into my skin permanently.
I’m shaking my head as much as I can with the way he’s holding me and argue, “Some are really raised. I don’t think he’d be able to cover them. ”
“I don’t know,” he tells me honestly, “but if you’re curious about it, I know he’d be willing to do a consultation.”
The scoff slips out before I can stop it. “I don’t know about that,” my words are hard as I think about the way he treated Lara.
Turner’s gray eyes bore into mine. “I don’t know what is going on with him or why he was giving Lara so much shit. He’s not usually like that. He might be a fuck-boy, but he’s not disrespectful.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip as I consider his words. It’s not like I know what is going on with him, I hardly know the man. Still, Lara doesn’t deserve his shitty attitude.
“I’ll think about it,” I offer because it’s the only thing I can do.
What would I even get? What if he can’t cover all the scars? Will it hurt?
I shake off the questions because I’m not going to be able to answer any of them right now. And I need to stay focused.
“Do you have a lot more stuff here?” Turner asks the question as he looks around the small space.
“No,” I answer him, “I didn’t come here with much. The place was furnished when I moved in. It’s mostly just clothes that I’ve gotten while I’ve been here.” I shrug one shoulder, my words casual, “I was nervous about getting too much or really setting down roots.”
“I get it, Graycie-girl,” he murmurs, “but now you have a reason to set down roots here.” His eyes sweep over the space again. “Go ahead and pack everything you have left here.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, my voice coming out high and incredulous, “Excuse me? Pack up the rest of my stuff? Why would I do that?”
One side of Turner’s mouth tips up. “Because you’re moving in with me.”
“Temporarily?” I don’t even try to hide the hopeful note in my voice.
Turner’s mouth tips down in a frown that borders on a scowl. It’s kind of adorable, but I don’t think now is the time to mention it. “No,” he grunts. “Permanently. It’s part of lockdown.”
I narrow my eyes at him because he looks far too pleased with himself. I’m not sure I trust it.
“It’s part of lockdown?” I deepen my voice, mocking his words and all he does is smile in return. Damn it.
If only I didn’t find his smile so damn sexy. It would be much easier to resist him if that were the case.
But here I am, unsure of whether Sylvester has been in Dogwood Ridge, unsure about how safe I really am, and all I can think about is climbing him like a tree. It’s really not fair what this man does to me.
My man.
My biker.
“I am not living with you in the clubhouse.” Thankfully, my voice comes out sounding strong and sure instead of pouty and whiney. It’s a win and I’m taking it.
An indulgent smile stretches across Turner’s face, and my eyes turn into slits as I look up at him. “Not in the clubhouse, no.”
I blink at him a few times, replaying his words and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. I’m exasperated as I ask, “What does that even mean, Turner?”
His hold on the strands of my hair loosens and then his hands grip my hips and pull me flush against his chest. I love feeling the hardness of his body against my softness. It reminds me of just how strong he is.
I love it.
I love him.
My heart does a strange stutter-flip in my chest as the realization fills me.
I’ve fallen in love with him. When did that even happen?
Was it when he was taking care of me and putting me first? Was it when he was watching me like he was learning something precious? Was it when he rushed to my side because he thought I was in danger?
Or was it the first moment I looked into his gray eyes?
“Pack your things,” he tries again. “If you have more than can fit in Dolly’s car, I’ll send some of my brothers for whatever is left.”
“First you need to explain how you want to put me on lockdown, which means behind the gates of the club compound, but I won’t be living in the clubhouse,” I insist.
“I have a house on club land,” he explains easily as if this is information I already had.
But I don’t think it was. Did I know that? Damn it, I’m not even sure and I can’t think straight.
“You have a house on club land?” I’m sure I sound confused and stupid, but I can’t help it.
This morning as been a lot and I think my brain is about to short circuit.
Turner must be able to read that I’m on the verge of losing control of my emotions because his hands tighten their grip as he tucks his chin down against his chest, his eyes intense and demanding my focus.
“I have a home, on club land. I had it built a few years ago because sometimes I need to get away from my brothers.”
He looks away for a moment, but it’s like he’s looking into the past with the way his eyes glaze over. When he looks back at me, his eyes are soft.
“Maybe part of me hoped I could find you and wanted to make sure I had a house for you to make into a home,” he muses and I fucking melt.
As much as I want to just give in, I can’t help but ask, “You don’t think this is moving too fast?”
My man doesn’t answer me. He simply lifts me by my hips and stalks through the small space until he’s laying me down on my bed and sinking to his knees. The movement is so sudden all I can do is gasp out in surprise.
I prop myself up on my elbows as I look down at him while he reaches for the waistband of my leggings. He pulls them down my legs along with my panties.
There’s laughter in my voice as I question him, “What are you doing?”
He arches an eyebrow like it should be obvious. His large hands grip my thighs and push them open enough for him to wedge his shoulders in between them. “You’re thinking too much,” he says like his words are gospel. “I’m going to fix it.”
“If you think I’m going to agree to moving in with you, into a house that might have a neon beer sign on the wall or something, I think you’re going to be disappointed,” I protest while not really meaning the words. They’re half-hearted, at best.
Turner just chuckles as his hands glide higher up my thighs. He leans forward and takes a deep breath.
“You need to get of your head, Graycie-girl,” his words ghost over my pussy lips. I have no doubt that he can see how wet I am for him. “You’re far too stressed.”
A breathy laugh leaves my body as he slides his tongue from my hole to my clit. My hips buck, but he’s there to hold me down. The growl he lets out as he tastes me has my nipples turning into diamond like points.
My fingers twist in my comforter as I try to ground myself. But I have a feeling it’s not going to help.
He licks me again and my eyes roll back in my head. He mutters against my flesh, “Delicious.”
Then he’s diving mouth first into my pussy and feasting on me like he’s starving. I’m too lost in how fucking good it feels. When he plunges too fingers inside of me and his lips wrap around my clit and suck, I shriek.
I’m fairly sure I’m having an out-of-body experience right now. Honestly, I don’t ever really want to rejoin my body or proper consciousness again. No thanks, I’ll just keep reliving this kind of pleasure.
“You’re moving into our home, Angel,” he growls the words against my clit while I teeter on the edge.
I can feel my orgasm coiling in my belly, tightening and threatening to unravel.
“That’s it,” he encourages me softly.
His fingers curl just right inside of me, and he finds the spot I suspected was a myth. But the stars dancing across my vision say otherwise.
“Yes. Yes, please,” I moan the words, unsure if I’m just encouraging him or agreeing to his ridiculousness.
Both probably.
“Come,” he barks, “I want you to coat my face in your juices.”
His teeth nip at my clit and it sends me careening. My fingers find his hair, and I hold him in place, right where I want him, even though I don’t think he was planning on moving.
He seems very happy between my thighs.
As my entire body is racked with aftershocks and my pleasure wraps around me like a blanket, I look down the length of my body to find his gray eyes sparkling with something like satisfaction.
Or maybe it’s triumph.
My body goes boneless and Turner chuckles softly. His hands are gentle as he helps me float back to earth.
“Let’s get you packed up,” he murmurs.
“Uh-huh,” my voice sounds like it’s far away, even to me, “I’ll get right on that when I can feel my legs again.”
“Just direct me, Angel,” he tells me, “I’ve got this.”
I think I wave my hand in the direction of my closet. I think I tell him where to find everything left, which isn’t much considering Opal already came through here on a mission. It’s possible I should have been more suspicious then.
When the rest of my stuff is packed, Turner cleans me up—because I was lying out on my bed doing my best Winnie-the-Pooh impression—and gets me dressed again. He touches me with such reverent, gentle care that tears fill my eyes.
Being loved by Turner is a revelation. I only hope I can love him the way he needs, because I’ll never be able to let him go.
As he leads me out to Dolly’s car, which is already loaded up, he laces our fingers together. His voice is soft and coaxing, “Let’s go home.”
All I can do is nod.
Yeah.
Let’s go home.