Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
“Can I undress myself first and lie down?”
“Of course.” A sad smile crosses my face. I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Listening to the rustling of his pants and the sound his shirt makes as he pulls it over his head. The soft thud of his belt hitting the floor.
He climbs into bed beside me and faces me. Almost immediately, his finger traces the lines of the sleeve tattoo on my arm.
“I don’t think I ever told you I really like this one. Somehow, it suits you,” he breathes.
“No, you didn’t.” His lips press against my shoulder. “Connor hated it.”
“What?” He looks up at me from under his eyelashes and meets my eyes. “The tat?”
I nod. “He said it stood for everything I tried to leave behind.” The way he emphasized “tried” that night hurt. His words had a spiteful ring to it.
“Was he right? Is that what it stands for?”
A stray tear slides down my cheek as I shrug my shoulders. “I guess so, but that wasn’t his point.”
“It’s your body, so you can do whatever you want with it. He can think he preferred you without it, but he should’ve kept his mouth shut.” Kyler places his arm under his head and rests his temple against his fist while his other hand still wanders over my arm. His eyes follow its movements.
“What I think he was trying to say was that he thought it looked cheap. Like trailer trash. Like someone from the MC I tried to leave behind. It reminded him of you.” I whisper the last sentence.
“Ah.” He frowns at me. “Is that why you asked me that question this morning about whether you made the right choice?”
“Maybe,” I mumble and close my eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, whether you were right.
And whether I loved Connor enough to marry him.
” His hand goes still, but he says nothing.
“If I’m being completely honest, I think the answer to both questions is no.
” Another tear rolls down my cheek and I sniffle.
“Connor made me feel secure, like I could make it without you and the club.”
“Layne—”
“No, Kyler, let me finish.” I take a gasping breath. “I had it in my stupid head that when we had children, they would end up growing up without parents. That they would be orphans before they were eighteen, like…” I exhale deeply.
“Like you. But—”
“But the reason I no longer have parents has nothing to do with the club.” I sniff and then wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “God, I loved you with everything I had, but that fear…”
His arm slides across my waist, and he pulls me a little toward him.
“Connor was interested, and I saw a way out. A way not to give my future children the same thing I had. If giving you up was necessary, then so be it. People always say you make the ultimate sacrifice for your children, and for my eighteen-year-old self, that was it for my future spawn. It sounds ridiculous, but in that moment, it sounded completely logical.” I had several hours to think about this and now that I say it out loud, it sounds even sillier than it did in my head.
“Marrying Connor was something I did out of fear of being alone; I was afraid I wouldn’t be strong enough on my own to stay away.
He loved me, and he was a good man, but…
” I exhale deeply, not being able to say that he was no Kyler.
“I really don’t understand how he ended up in that situation with Vanderberg.
Connor would never knowingly put us in danger. ”
Kyler straightens up and presses a kiss to my forehead. “He once signed a contract with Viktor Koslov. I know that involved real estate as well, and that worked out fine, despite…”
“Vigo’s father?” His gray eyes meet mine, and I see only honesty in their depths. He nods. “But that man has connections to the Bratva?” My voice rises an octave and I cover my mouth with my hand, not wanting to wake Rebel.
“That’s right, but what I gathered from both Viktor and Vigo is that it was unrelated and had to do with real estate.
Vanderberg is only known for his real estate, so I’m guessing Connor didn’t get into it with all that knowledge.
” There’s a moment of silence and then Kyler asks, “‘Why did you stay with him all this time, Layne? Is the fear still there?’
Hesitantly, I shake my head. “I don’t think I realized it until you mentioned it this morning. It’s not that I didn’t love Connor, but when I think about it now…”
“Layne, you told me you loved Connor. When I asked you if you wanted to give us a chance, you literally told me that everything about him was safe and that’s why you chose him, but that you loved him.
You’ve realized this before, but maybe you didn’t realize that you’d realized it. Do you get what I’m saying?”
I think long and hard, and now that he mentions it, it vaguely comes back to me. The night I told him I’d spoken to Rebel. “Then why did you think I didn’t love you enough? If I told you?”
“Damn it, Laynie.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not the only one who’s picked up a few scars along the way. You cut me off, left me, went to another man. How else was I supposed to interpret that other than 'Kyler, you’re not worth it'?”
“We talked about it, I explained it to you,” I say, but I understand what he means. I stare at my hands, not wanting to look at him. “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”
His finger slides under my chin, lifts it up, and then he presses his mouth to mine. “Do you love me, Lay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Kyler rests his forehead against mine. “Enough to stay with me?” His eyes bore into mine.
“Enough that I can’t imagine how I’d do it again.”
“What?” he asks softly.
“Run away. I wouldn’t know how, Kyler.” I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Good. Tomorrow, you’re going home.”
“What?” The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I just poured my heart out, told him I love him—and now he’s sending me away?
“Tomorrow, you pack your things. Take Rebel to her place—where she can sleep in a real bed. Then I’ll come.” He slides between my legs.
“Then you’ll come?” I’m lost in the conversation.
His nose brushes mine. “Yeah.” He kisses me, slow and deep, his tongue tracing the line of my lips until I open for him. He tilts his head, pushing the kiss deeper.
But my mind’s still spinning. I pull back. “What do you mean?”
“If you want, I’ll come to your place tomorrow.” He looks at me, meaning clear, then leans in closer.
“For coffee? Stay for dinner? Sleep over? What?” I search his face for answers.
“All of it. If that’s okay with you.” He rests his forehead on my shoulder.
I nod slowly. “If we’re sure it’s safe, I’m in. She’s been through enough.”
He pulls the neckline of my shirt down, lips trailing over the tops of my breasts. “Can I stay over?”
My head sinks deeper into the pillow. “Yes,” I mumble.
“Every day?” he asks as he dives down and pushes my shirt up.
“Are you asking if you can move in with us?“ With my eyes closed, I bite my lower lip.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs against my stomach, then kisses me.
“I think—Aah…" I inhale sharply as his tongue flicks my nipple.
“Take off your shirt.” He bites gently, and I hiss.
As quickly as I can, I wriggle out of my shirt.
A broad grin on his face, he cups my breasts and strokes them with his thumbs.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs and then sits up.
His fingers stroke both sides of my jaw, his eyes bore deep into mine, and then he leans forward.
When his mouth finds mine, I open for him immediately.
I tilt my head and we deepen the kiss. A shiver runs through me as his tongue caresses mine.
I press my fingers into his shoulder blades in an attempt to pull him closer, but it’s useless as his chest is already pressed against mine.
My hands wander down to his waist and when I touch his hip, I realize he’s naked.
The pressure of his hardness against my underwear, combined with this knowledge, instantly makes me wet, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me.
I immediately let go of him and hook my fingers behind the edge of my sleep shorts and panties.
I wriggle out from under him and pull my clothes off, throwing them on the floor.
“Someone’s in the mood.“ Kyler smiles against my lips.
Then he pushes against my entrance and I moan. Loudly. My head falls back and my eyes close. “Shit, yes.”
“Do you want this?” His tongue slides down my neck.
“Yes,” I say, gasping for breath, and wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses me immediately and thrusts into me at the same time. His growl vibrates against my mouth, and I bite his lower lip gently. “That’s it.”
A frown appears on his forehead and his kisses become more intense. I meet every caress of his tongue, then rock my hips gently.
“Hngf," he grunts.
“What?” I giggle and look up into his gray eyes.
With a serious look, he says, “Wait a minute.” He closes his eyes and exhales deeply. “Okay.” Then he takes a deep breath, slides out, and thrusts back in on a single breath. We moan at the same time.
His forehead presses against mine, and my fingers thread through his hair. With every thrust, his lips find mine, and I lock my legs tightly around his hips. “Oh, yes… right there,” I whisper.
Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles taut with tension. His movements grow faster, more frantic—losing their rhythm as he nears the edge. Our breaths come in ragged gasps, his voice rougher than usual as I pull his head closer for a quick kiss before gasping for air.
“I’m coming, Lay,” he groans, voice low and thick.
“Go ahead,” I gasp back, tilting my hips to let him go deeper. “Oh, fuck,” I moan, nails raking down his back.
Then his whole body stiffens and stills. His mouth presses against mine, a moan escaping as he spills into me. And the moment he does, I shatter, crashing over the edge right alongside him.