Chapter 17
Reagan
Shapes and shadows bleed together before they come into focus. A face hovers above me. Sandy blond hair. Concerned eyes. Mason.
“Hey, you awake?” His face is relieved. “How you feeling?”
My head is heavy. My body aches. Confusion fogs my thoughts. “Where...where am I? And what are you doing here?”
“You’re at the clubhouse. I found you passed out on the street and brought you here. Doc treated you. It was faster than the hospital.”
The clubhouse. Shane’s clubhouse. “Doc?”
“He’s one of our members. A real doctor who helps around here.”
My arms tremble with the effort as I sit up. Mason’s hand steadies my shoulder. “Easy. You’re still burning up.”
“Is Shane here?”
Mason’s jaw tightens. “No. Prez called him, though. He’s on his way back.”
“I have to go home.” My throat hurts when I speak.
“Doc said you shouldn’t move till your fever breaks. You could barely walk when I found you.”
I glance around the room, taking in the sparse, worn-out furniture, the boots, the leather and denim hanging on the back of the door. “Is this...is this your room?”
He twists his lips and shakes his head. “Shane’s.”
Of course it is. I can smell him in the sheets despite my congested nose, that mix of leather and musk that makes my heart race even when I’m half-delirious with fever.
“I shouldn’t be here without him. He won’t like it.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, but my head swims in vertigo. I grip the mattress, willing myself not to pass out again.
“Would you just—” Mason moves closer, his hands hovering like he wants to help but doesn’t dare touch me. “You’re right about leaving here, but not because of what he’ll fucking think. Look, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I don’t. You’d better take a hint and stay the fuck away from me.”
“Jesus Christ. I just saved your ass.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t owe you anything but a thank you.”
“What you think I want in return from a fourteen-year-old girl? The only thing I want is to open your eyes. What Shane’s doing, it’s not—”
The door slams open. Shane is here. My savior. My fairy tale prince.
He fills the doorway, his chest heaving like he’s been running. His eyes sweep over me first, then land on Mason with a look that could cut glass. “The fuck ya doin’ in here?”
Mason straightens, his hands raised defensively. “I found her on the street, Blue. She was burning up. I brought her here so Doc could—”
“You found her. You, of all people, just happened to find her.”
“I was heading home. She was down on the sidewalk. What was I supposed to do, leave her there?”
Shane crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees beside the bed. His hands cup my face, tilting it up so he can look at me. “Baby girl, you okay? Shit, you burning. What happened?”
“I’m fine.” I swallow, pins and needles in my mouth and tongue. “I just needed antibiotics. I was walking to the hospital and—”
“Walking?” Rage flares in his gaze. “Where the fuck were they?”
“Dad wasn’t home, and Mother was…sleeping.”
“Fuck.” He presses his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry. Should’ve been there. Should’ve—”
“It’s not your fault.”
Behind Shane, Mason shifts uncomfortably. “Look, I can take her home if here ain’t good.”
Shane doesn’t even look at him. “You ain’t taking her anywhere.”
“But it’s night time. There’s always a party here. It ain’t the scene a little girl like—”
“I said no.” Shane’s voice drops to a growl. He turns his head just enough to glare at Mason. “Doc!” he yells toward the hallway. “Get in here!”
A mister with a graying beard and weathered face appears in the doorway. He’s big, wearing a cut just like Shane’s. He walks over and smiles at me. He asks how I feel now as he checks my forehead, my pulse and my pupils. Then he puts a thermometer in my mouth.
“Can she go home?” Shane demands.
Doc reads my temperature and shakes his head. “Not yet. Fever is still too high. She needs to stay put for a few more hours, keep taking fluids and meds. If the fever doesn’t break by tomorrow, we’ll have to take her to a hospital for blood work.”
Shane nods curtly, then turns back to Mason. “You heard him. She’s staying.”
“I can wait with her,” Mason offers.
“The fuck you will.” Shane blocks me from Mason’s view, his fists clenched at his sides. “Get the fuck out of my room, Mason. And stay the fuck away from her.”
Mason curses under his breath. “What the fuck you doing, Blue? She’s just a child.”
“I’m protecting what’s mine, asshole. Now get out before I make you.”
Doc ushers Mason out before he speaks again. Whispers and hums erupt from the hallway, curious and wary. Shane just claimed me in front of the entire club.
Mason’s gaze flicks to me, something like pity in his eyes, before he leaves, before Shane slams the door behind him and locks it.
The room falls silent except for my ragged breathing.
Shane drags a hand through his hair. His expression softens at me.
“C’mere, baby girl. Lay back down.” He helps me settle against the pillows, his touch gentle despite the tension radiating off him.
“I’m gonna take care of ya, alright? You don’t gotta worry about anything. ”
I force a smile. “Thanks. Why is Mason calling you Blue?”
“You didn’t hear? I’m getting my colors tomorrow. Blue is my road name. That’s why I wasn’t in town today. One last job to earn my patch.”
“Yay. Congratulations.” I cough wildly.
“Shit.” He fixes the blankets. “You should rest, baby.”
“Yeah, but Shane… I need to tell you something.”
“Sure thing. What’s up?”
“Mason… He talked to me earlier. At school.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “What’d he say?”
“He said…” I swallow hard.
“What’d he say, Reagan?”
I can’t look him in the eye. “That you don’t see me like a sister. That you want...”
Shane goes very still. Then he jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna kill the son of a bitch.”
Fear courses through me. I grab his wrist tight. “No, please. I told him he was wrong and never to speak to me again.”
“But he didn’t listen. He followed you home. How else did he find ya?” He yanks his hand away and strides to the door. “I gotta shut that—”
“Is he wrong?”
He blinks at me, and his throat bobs with a swallow. “’Course he’s wrong. He lost his fucking mind. He’s just messing with your head ’cause he wants ya for himself, that sleazy bastard. I see the way he looks at you, Reagan. I’ll kill him if he ever touches you.”
“I told him the same thing.”
“You did?” Astonishment blinks in his gaze. “Goog girl.”
“But we both know that’s not true, just like we know those weren’t keys in your pocket. Not yesterday… Not when you slept next to me.”
He lunges toward me. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a little girl.”
My chin wobbles as I flinch. “Please don’t be mean to me. You scare me like that. I don’t want to be scared of you, too.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, alright.” He sits next to me again. “I didn’t mean to scare ya, baby girl. It’s just what you’re saying… You have a fever. You don’t mean any of that shit.”
“Is he wrong, Shane?” I repeat.
He clenches his teeth. “What you want me to say, huh? The fuck you want me to say?”
“That you care about me like I care about you. That it’s okay to love me…just like I love you.” I reach for his hand. “I don’t want to be just like a sister to you, Shane. I want… I want more, too.”
“You crazy, Reagan? You can’t. We can’t.” His eyebrows hook, and he seems like he’s in pain. “It ain’t okay. It’s fucked up sick.”
“Sick? Fucked up?” Fury blazes in my chest. “What’s sick is being locked up in an attic, left to bleed for two days because I spilled the milk.
What’s sick is being thrown out in the cold for hours because I breathed too loudly.
What’s fucked up is having a needle stabbed inside me because I got my period, Shane. ”
“Reagan—”
“You know what else is fucked up sick? The person who is supposed to love you the most turning you into her punching bag for fourteen years, and if you dare shed a tear, you get a broken rib on top. A father who turns up the TV sound to cover his daughter’s screams instead of rescuing her.
A mother who tells her sick daughter she wishes her dead instead of taking her to a hospital. ”
Pain spreads across his features. His balling fists slam the bed before he pulls me tightly into his arms. Fourteen years of smothered aches explode from my eyes and soak his t-shirt.
His chest heaves against my shaking. He lifts my chin so that our gazes meet.
My heart beats frantically as he stares into my tears for a lifetime.
Then…
“Fuck it.” His mouth crashes against mine.
The kiss is nothing like the one on my cheek at the beach.
It yanks me into a new domain that I can’t begin to fathom.
His lips move against mine like he’s drowning and I’m air, like he’s been holding back for a long time but can’t anymore.
It’s consuming me, deconstructing me and then rebuilding me into someone else.
I’ve never been kissed before, but I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring all my love and need into it. When he pulls away, I’m lost for breath, and his lips, the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen, are red and swollen.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he breathes against my lips, “you know that?”
No words form in my brain. I’m somewhere else, and I never want to come back.
“This has to be our secret,” he whispers again. “No one can ever know. If anyone finds out, I’m fucked. The club will kick me out, and I’ll go to fucking jail. You understand? You gotta promise me. No one can ever know, baby.”
I nod quickly although I don’t care what they say. Our love isn’t sick, not to me. If people think it’s fucked up, so be it. They’ve never lifted a finger when all the other fucked up shit was happening right under their noses, why would they now? “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
“Good girl. My good girl.” He kisses me again, softer this time.
Another cough breaks me in half. “I’m sorry. You’re going to get sick now.”
“Don’t give a shit, baby. Let me take care of you. You’re still burning up, and that cough ain’t good.” He reaches for a jar on the nightstand. “Someone used this on you?”
I check the medicine. It’s mentholated cream. “Not that I know of.” I sniff at my chest. “It doesn’t smell like it.”
“Good. Don’t let any guy touch you like that, even Doc.”
“I won’t. O-only you.”
The blue in his eyes flames. They travel down my shirt.
His teeth spear his lip. “Damn right. Only me.” He unbuttons my shirt, his breath growing louder with each button.
Then he slides it off my shoulder. “This will help with the congestion,” he murmurs, scooping some of the medicine with his fingers.
“Yes,” I barely whisper.
He starts rubbing the cream onto my chest in careful circles. I tremble at the feeling of his touch. My heart skitters. Goosebumps cover my skin. My boobs rise and fall rapidly, and my nipples tighten against the fabric of my bra.
“Relax, baby.” He can’t take his eyes off my breasts. “Fuck, you drivin’ me crazy like that.”
“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know… What am I doing wrong?”
“You don’t even understand…” His free hand rubs over his mouth, and he chuckles. “You ain’t doing nothing wrong. I am. But the way your body reacts to my touch, baby,” his fingers trail lower, brushing just above the edge of my bra, “ain’t helping me stop.”
I don’t want him to stop.
The heat from his hand slides inside my bra cup. I gasp, and my nipple juts tighter. He brushes a thumb over it and grinds a curse through his teeth.
A strange tingling spreads through my body and pools low in my belly. “Shane,” I say between gasps, “something...something is happening. It’s different from the fever. It feels strange…down there.”
Understanding flickers across his face, and the blue flames intensify. His hand slides from my chest to my stomach, then lower, resting just above the waistband of my jeans.
“Here?” His voice is rough. “Lower?”
I nod, my breath hitching, embarrassment flooding me.
“It’s okay, baby girl. It’s how it’s supposed to feel when you want someone.” His fingers toy with the button of my jeans. “But it can get a little painful if it ain’t taken care of. Want me to make it better?”
“Yes please.”
He unbuttons my jeans and slides the zipper down. The cream-free palm slips beneath the fabric, over my underwear, then inside. When his fingers press against me, I gasp.
“Don’t be afraid, baby girl. You trust me?”
I nod.
“Good girl. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”
His finger rubs and circles and presses against me, and the foreign heat builds and builds until I can barely breathe.
My body arches off the bed, chasing the sensation, and Shane’s other hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing my nipple.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “So fucking wet for me. So fucking beautiful.”
The pressure builds higher, tighter, until suddenly it snaps. A gush of pleasure crashes over me in waves. Involuntarily, I cry out.
Shane covers my mouth with his hand. “Shhhh. I’d love to hear you scream for me, but only when we’re alone. Can’t let no one hear ya, baby, or we’re in trouble.”
My screams catch in my throat. I cling to him as the world falls apart around me. When it’s over, I collapse back against the pillows, trembling and dazed.
Shane pulls his hand away slowly and licks his fingers with a moan. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good, baby.”
My eyes widen as I suppress another gasp.
Chuckling, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re such a good girl, Reagan. So innocent. So sweet.”
“Shane, what just happened?”
He inhales the fingers that have been inside me, and his eyes roll back. “I gave you your first orgasm, baby girl. Feel better?”
I don’t know how I feel. My body hums with aftershocks. I’m only certain of one thing: life as I know it has changed forever, and there’s no turning back.