Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LAINEY
What have I just done?
I’m still trying to catch my breath as I lie in bed, Viking beside me, his strong arm thrown over his eyes as he does the same.
I’m not sure how long we lie there, but all I can think about is the fact that I’m getting married in a month.
I agreed to marry that man in a month, and I’ve just fucked someone else… and loved it… I’m a whore.
That’s what I am.
I am a whore.
I can’t believe I just did what I did.
My breathing begins to come out in pants, and I wonder if I’m going to be able to calm down at all. I’m full-on panicking because the realization of what I’ve just done slams into me, hard… almost as hard as Gunnar fucked me.
Then a new wave of panic rolls through me, because Gunnar fucked me. He really did. And I’ve wanted it for years. It was better than I imagined. But the asshole only did it when he knew he wouldn’t ever have to commit to anything.
Sitting straight up, I twist my torso slightly so I can look down at him. As if sensing not only my gaze but also my anger, he slides his arm from his eyes, and his lips have the nerve to curve up into a smile.
“So now you want me, when there is no way there will ever be more,” I state, allowing my thoughts to just fall out of my mouth without even thinking about them.
Those lips of his, they stay curved up, and his eyes…
those pretty blue eyes that I freaking love to stare into, they begin to dance.
I have never wanted to slap him more than I do right now, then kiss him, because we didn’t really kiss, and I want to feel that amazing tongue of his inside my mouth.
God.
I need to get ahold of myself.
Gunnar chuckles, then lifts his arm and slips it beneath his head, propping it up slightly. I watch as he turns to look over at me. His lips are still curved up into a grin. Clearly, he does not think that there is anything wrong with this scenario.
Something very fucking wrong, and I’m pissed as hell.
And the fact that he doesn’t care that I’m pissed or thinks it’s funny pisses me off even more. I’m just a big, gigantic, naked, pissed-off ball of flesh right now. Narrowing my eyes at him, I press my lips together and try to figure out how I’m going to talk to this man without slapping him.
Because I really want to slap him.
A lot.
“I’ve always wanted you, Lainey. But yeah, I figured we could take the month and get it out of our systems.”
Those words should not hurt me as much as they do. I know the way these men are, which is why I really never wanted anything to do with any of them. I wanted to find someone who had nothing to do with an MC, and then I fell for him—like an idiot.
“Gunnar,” I whisper.
He clears his throat, and I expect him to start speaking, but he doesn’t, at least not immediately. Instead, he turns slightly before he reaches out. He wraps his arm around my waist and drags me across the bed, tugging me slightly beneath his body.
I don’t know what I expect to happen next, but it’s not his lips pressing against mine, and definitely not his tongue slipping inside my mouth.
I don’t expect the way his tongue tangles with mine or the way I whimper with the desire for more…
a lot more, especially of his tongue… anywhere on or in my body.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I blink and look up into his eyes. “This isn’t right. You are only here because there’s no commitment and I’ll be gone. You don’t really like me, and I’m worth more than being some whore.”
It happens so fast that I don’t realize what’s going on. His fingers curl around the front of my throat, his eyes zero in on mine, and he presses his lips together in a thin line. His nostrils flare, and his eyes glitter as they search my own.
“Never,” he grinds out. “Never call yourself a whore.”
I want to laugh. I don’t, because I can’t, but I really want to, because that’s exactly what I am— to him and to my new soon-to-be husband. He releases my throat, then shifts his face close to mine and slides his mouth across mine.
He slips his tongue inside my mouth again, but just a dip this time, before he moves backward slightly and his gaze searches mine again.
I’m so mad at him, and yet, I find it hard to stay that way for more than a few seconds at a time.
Almost as if I have to continue to remind myself that he’s an asshole.
“Then what am I?” I ask. “I agreed to marry a man I don’t know in an effort to keep everyone happy. And I just slept with someone who wants to have a month-long fling, to, as you put it, get it out of our systems.”
His lips twitch, but thankfully, they don’t turn up into a full smile.
Because right now, I might actually slap him right across his beautiful face.
I could do it, maybe, but probably not. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, then fill them, and I try to blink them away to keep from falling down my cheeks.
“You’re perfect, Lainey-Rose. Absolute perfection. You always have been. Which is why I could not do that to you.”
“Do what?” I ask. “This?”
He shakes his head once, his eyes focused on mine.
They’re no longer searching. They are focused.
I suck in a breath, holding it before he speaks, before he continues, and when he does, those tears are no longer filling my eyes.
They begin to slide down my temples and onto the pillow beneath my head.
“Fall in love with you.”
VIKING
I said the words. For the first time in my life, I said the words that have been on the tip of my tongue for longer than I’m comfortable confessing, even to myself. Words that I never imagined saying to anyone.
I know it makes me a pussy. I’ve got no excuses for it. But I never planned on telling her how I felt, knowing that there was no way we could do anything about it. What’s the point in talking about something if it can never come true?
“Are you shitting me right now?” she asks in a whisper.
Guilt instantly consumes me. I shouldn’t have said a fucking word. The words just tumbled out without me even thinking about them. And now she’s looking at me like she’s ready to rip my fucking head off.
But at the same time, she sounds so much like Piggy that I want to burst out laughing. Lowering my head, I touch my mouth to hers. I’m an asshole, I know I am, but this is probably the most asshole move I’ve ever made in my life.
I’ve kept my feelings from her for years, years, knowing that there was no way in fuck I could ever let that shit be known. Not when my life with the Vicious Reapers was on the line. Sure, Piggy and Bullet are both acting like it would have been cool if Lainey and I were together.
I know that’s a fucking lie, though.
Piggy would have asked for my fucking head, just like Ivy did.
“The chance of Piggy considering me a betrayer of the club and the brotherhood would be worse than death, Lainey. I could never have chanced it.”
She wraps her fingers around my biceps, her nails digging into my flesh as she looks up at me. I fucking hate the expression she’s wearing on her face. I wish I could do something to make it go away. Maybe another orgasm… or two?
“I need more than that. Piggy would have come around, you know that. He loves me.”
She’s right. He probably would have, eventually, but watching Goose and Ivy, that was goddamn painful. It’s not really about them, though. It’s about my past; my father and his betrayal.
That’s the reason I refuse to do anything that could have possibly fucked up my life with the Reapers. I’m not sure what you’d call me, but being labeled as a betrayer is not something I could have ever lived with.
I see now that it was detrimental to what could have been and what will be. I essentially fucked shit up. Royally. Bullet was trying to tell me. He was trying to tell me that it was cool for me to claim Lainey. All but begged me. But my stubborn self wouldn’t allow it.
And here I am.
“Maybe he would have, but I would have never betrayed him that way. Piggy said you were off-limits, and off-limits you will fucking stay, Lainey. I am not my father.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Shaking my head, I pinch my eyes closed and roll over onto my back. Unfortunately, I started this conversation without context, and she’s going to hate me forever if I don’t deliver it to her.
My gaze slides over to her, and I wonder if that would be a bad thing. If she hated me forever, it would make this shit so much goddamn easier. She reaches out, placing her palm against my stomach. Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I squeeze gently. Let out a heavy sigh.
Telling her won’t change our circumstances. She’s going to marry someone else, and I have one month to soak in every second I can with her. And I can’t do that if she’s pissed as fuck at me.
“My father betrayed the club,” I state. “He was fucking the president’s wife and was also fucking his nineteen-year-old daughter.”
She gasps, which is cute, but I can feel the pity in her gaze as she looks directly at me. I refuse to meet her eyes. I don’t want to see that pity, even though it sears my goddamn skin.
“What happened?” she asks softly.
I snort. “What happened is my father betrayed his entire club, and he paid the price for it. The president killed him. He made me watch him die. I didn’t love my dad, not in the slightest. He was absent and an asshole, but I was sixteen and had never seen anyone die.”
“Shade did that?” she asks in a whisper.
“Vicious Reapers in another town. I prospected for them, then asked for a transfer a few years later.”
Saying all of that out loud releases a bit of the burden I’ve been carrying.
I don’t think I’ve ever told another living person this story before.
The men in the club, especially from back in the day, already know.
There was never any reason for me to say shit to anyone, and I’m not going to volunteer that.
It all makes me look bad, and I hate that shit. But maybe it isn’t just because it makes me look bad; it also makes me feel like shit. Like his stink has clung to me. I want to be everything my father wasn’t.