13. Chapter 12
Clark
I bite my bottom lip as I lean against the breakfast bar, my arms crossed over my chest, and my sole focus – my husband instead of emptying the dishwasher.
Today has been overwhelming. My thoughts keep drifting back to Trick—no, Miles—and his therapy session last night and the emotional weight has lingered since then.
We haven’t spoken since we left the therapy office.
After his revelations, his therapist said he wanted to call it a day, noticing Miles was struggling with what he had told me, and asked me to return with my husband next week.
We picked Willow up from Drew and spent the evening with her, making homemade pizza without a word to each other.
I was allowing him to come to terms with that part of his childhood is out in the open with me, while he’s letting me digest everything, and it is hard, it really is.
I understand more. I’m angry at his mom to the point I’m holding myself back from charging the clubhouse.
I guess I’m also angry at myself for not opening my eyes to how distant we were after we married and I’m angry at him for shouldering this burden since he was a kid.
He has allowed his dad to convince him that what happened was normal because that is what he’d done when he brought his wife back home.
He’s normalized the fact that his wife tried to kill his son out of petty jealousy.
Even if he did cheat, killing your child doesn’t warrant revenge.
Hooking up with someone else and leaving his ass does, but not murder.
I tilt my head as Miles frowns at his laptop, but instead of marveling at his strong jaw, my eyes go to his ribs.
Clark
Turns out it wasn’t just his wedding finger he had tattooed with my name, and with how the black ink has faded he has had it for years. I’m going to take a guess and say he had it done two days after our wedding.
“I can feel you staring, buttercup,” he murmurs without looking up at me, and I swallow hard.
Yesterday, Willow took up our time, today, I was at work dealing with the inmate who, unfortunately, is still in the hospital because Dr. Lavish accidentally left a sharp object on a tray in his room, and the man managed to stab himself in the ribs this time.
Thankfully, he missed his lung, but he’s now having to stay in hospital for a little longer, and yeah, I said thankfully. He doesn’t get to take the easy way out after killing an innocent child, he deserves to suffer.
Miles looks my way and raises a brow, and I swallow again.
It's been nearly twenty-four hours since his admission, and we haven’t spoken. I think we need to change that, especially while Willow is in bed and before he goes to church at nine.
I’m in love with him. I always have been, even if I never wanted to admit it to myself.
I think I need to fight for him if I want a future with him.
To do that, we need to get everything out in the open.
Maybe then I can disconnect the man sitting before me, confessing his feelings, from the man who pushed me away and made me feel like a burden after he forced me to marry him.
“Lavender told me several times over the years that I assaulted you, all the club bunnies did,” I admit, and his eyes darken as he slowly closes his laptop.
I continue, “She spent years telling me that you and she were together, that I was being selfish keeping you both apart. I didn’t believe her not at first, not about the assault thing because like you it is what I felt, but more about you two being an item until I saw the necklace around her neck that Willow found in your cut. ”
Miles groans as he drops his head back, but I don’t react.
I know he gave it to her, I just don’t know why, and now I’m second-guessing myself because he has sworn they weren’t together, that they never have been together.
"It has a mic," he says. "Every bunny got one, but hers also tracks her. She doesn’t know. Like I said, buttercup, I know who drugged us, but some brothers refuse to vote her out. The necklaces were the next best step before I kill her."
I nod in understanding.
Some older generation, including my own father, is still hanging onto the old by-laws – innocent until proven guilty, even against a brother's word.
“Maybe it’s time the by-laws are changed,” I say softly, and he smiles.
“Cage has already set the meeting, that is what church is about tonight,” he admits, and I nod again before I sigh. “Talk to me,” he whispers, and I swallow the lump forming.
“I’m finding it hard to believe your admission about loving me, I’m struggling to see that you’ve claimed me because you have spent so long pushing me away, making me feel like I did assault you,” I say quietly, “I haven’t been with anyone else Miles, and for years I have always known it was you but I pushed those feelings away because you never looked at me that way before and then suddenly you do want me?
It’s hard to separate both men, the one from the years of disconnect to the one canceling my lease… ”
He looks at me with heartbreak, but there is no guilt, which doesn’t surprise me.
The landlord called a few days ago and said he can’t rent to me again, said he was disappointed to find out I had a husband, because apparently he wanted to ask me out, then had the nerve to confirm if I am, in fact, married.
Safe to say I hung up on him then blocked his number.
Sighing, Miles puts his laptop on the coffee table before he stands and walks my way. Trying to keep eye contact, I have to tell you, is extremely hard because my husband, his body, is just, yeah, it’s drool worthy.
Chewing my bottom lip as he presses himself against my body, then cups my cheek, his eyes take in my features.
“I know it’s a lot, baby, believe me, I know,” he murmurs as our eyes lock, “It’s taken me six years to come to terms with the fact that I’m in love with you.”
“How can you say you love me when you told everyone at work that I was forced to marry you for my protection?” I ask, and he frowns.
He shakes his head, confusion in his eyes. “I didn’t tell anyone, buttercup. Two days after our marriage, I realized I did it to make you mine. I knew you already had protection from the Chargers and everyone else.” He hesitates. “I thought you told everyone it was a marriage of convenience…”
Uh…
I frown along with him before a dark look overtakes his features, and he growls, “Looks like we have a traitor.”
“But who?” I ask, “The only person outside of the club that knew on my end was Belle, and we both know she’d rather go mute than say anything.”
His jaw locks as he grits, “Either a prospect, a club bunny, or my mother.”
“Or mine,” I whisper as it hits me, and Miles instantly clocks it as he grabs his phone quickly.
I frown, but he doesn’t lose eye contact as he presses on it, then puts his phone on speaker.
“Brother?” my blood brother answers.
“Has your mother told Nova about how my marriage with your sister came about?” Miles asks, and I slowly close my eyes with realization as I hear Crash question, “Mom, did you tell Nova why Trick and Clark married?”
“Oh, of course, I tell Nova everything, she’s like a daughter to me, while my own disowned me!” she snaps back, and I groan.
Nova is the biggest gossip in town. The amount of trouble she got into in high school because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut was unbelievable.
Heck, one of the football players ended up suspended after he tried to attack her when she told everyone he had screwed our art teacher and she lost her job.
“For fuck’s sake, Clarisse!” Dad snaps, and she retorts, “What?”
“She’s told everyone, Mom!” Crash growls, already seeing where Miles is coming from, and I shake my head as she snaps, “Why does it even matter? It is a marriage of convenience!”
Miles hangs up and chucks his phone on the counter behind me before groaning as he runs his fingers through my hair and places his forehead against mine.
"I really don’t like your mom," he huffs, gripping my hair.
“She hates that I cut her off,” I murmur, and he hums before reminding me, “You were already pulling back before our marriage,” and I nod.
Mom was overbearing and wanted everything her way, something I didn’t want. I wanted to be a free spirit and live for myself, not in her shadow.
I close my eyes, Miles’s body heat centering me, which completely scares me, considering I asked for a divorce just over a week ago, and I lean into him.
As if feeling my turmoil, my confusion over us after years of him pushing me away, of years of me believing I assaulted my friend, he whispers, “Block everything out,” and I lock eyes with his, “The past, our family, fucking everything, how do you feel about me? And not just back then, but right now, how do you feel about me right now?”
Tears glisten, and I choke, “I’m in love with you, have been since you saved me from the jungle gym.”
His grip tightens in my hair as he nods, then whispers, “Then the rest we’ll figure it out and we’ll heal.”
He makes it sound so easy, but it isn’t. We have six years of confusion and miscommunication to work through. Then there is the fact that the club lost my trust.
Before I can say anything, he leans forward and presses his lips against mine. He lingers for a moment, leaving the ball in my court and I don’t think. Instead, I bring my hand up, cup the back of his neck, and press my lips harder against his, needing to feel him.
He groans as he leaves one hand in my hair and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me tighter into him as he licks the seam of my lips, and I open for him.
As soon as our tongues touch, fireworks hit me, and a moan escapes that springs him into action, memories from that night hitting me as he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Miles, please,” I plead with a slur as I grip his hair, trying to pull him up from in between my legs, and he does as I ask, climbing up my body before slamming his mouth against mine, his tongue instantly touching mine as he makes me taste my orgasm.
The couch cushions hitting my back brings me back to him, and anticipation fills me, the need for him overwhelming me, and when his body covers mine, everything in my world rights. I wrap my arms around his neck while his legs part for me.
“Fuck, buttercup,” he grunts as he grips my hair and kisses my neck, sucking hard, marking me and my clit pulses as a moan slips out.
“Miles, please, I-I…”
Hearing my plea and not needing me to explain, he slams his mouth back against mine as he pulls up the shirt I’m wearing – his shirt – and grips my soaked panties.
Tearing echoes in the room, and I moan as I lift my hips a little so he can remove the fabric, while my hand goes to his jeans.
The time for thinking is gone, only my need for him in its place, being in his arms, feeling his weight.
I pull his cock out and he moans into my mouth and deepens the kiss as I place him at my wet entrance before he grabs my hands and laces our fingers together.
He places them by my head and breaks our kiss, so our eyes are connected.
Slowly, he pushes inside me, my walls instantly sucking him in and instead of feeling uncomfortable with the eye contact, I feel connected with him, like he is all I can see and feel.
Never losing that connection, my husband makes loves to me, with our lips just touching and I never want this feeling to go, I want to stay in this little bubble of just us before all our problems slam back.
I want my husband, and I don’t ever want to let him go.