Eden
Rosalie
“Rosalie.”
I knew what that meant, Snap saying my name in that low, throaty tone. We’d had weeks now of me learning what that meant.
And even though I liked what I was doing, since he was Snapper and I’d give him anything, I slid his rigid, pulsing cock out of my mouth, slithered up his body, attached my lips to his, accepted his tongue as it slid between, thrilled in the bristles of his whiskers scratching my skin, and allowed him to roll me onto my back.
After a time, he broke the kiss and reached for a condom.
I explored the muscled contours of his back with my fingers, reveling in the power of his body under my touch and intensity in his profile that met my eyes while I did.
His eyes came to mine as his hand went between our legs and he just gazed at me, showing me openly so many things, all with just a look, it was insanity.
He was excited. He loved having me under him. He enjoyed what I’d done to his cock. He couldn’t wait to get inside me.
And he loved me.
“Love you,” I whispered.
“Love you too, Rosie,” he whispered back right before he slid inside me.
At the glory of taking him, having him become a part of me, I closed my eyes.
Snap stroked his hands down the backs of my thighs, pulling them up as he went, until he reached my knees. He positioned them high at his sides, all this while he moved inside me.
Snapper Kavanaugh was a gentle lover. He liked slow. He liked taking his time. He liked building things until they were burning bright. He liked to be in the moment, not lost to it. And he guided me there right with him.
So he moved inside me, deliberate, leisurely, making sure I felt it as I took every inch of his length again, then again, and again, all the while watching me.
Finally, he started kissing me and then he worked my neck and he continued to hold the backs of my knees to control me, hold me back from careening into a place he didn’t want us to be, and he made me just feel it. Feel us. His weight. Our bodies’ movements. Our connection surging and retreating. Surging and retreating. Surging.
Through this he tuned to me, built it in me, in both of us, but he knew when he got me there. The kisses became less gentle penetrating strokes of the tongue, light tastes in the mouth. They drew deeper, twining and joining. But it was never ravishing. Snap didn’t tongue fuck my mouth. Snap didn’t fuck at all. With Snap, it was about being fully aware of the togetherness we were sharing and savoring it in every detail.
It was when the kisses heated up that the strokes of his cock got faster, the intensity built. Then he released my knees and let me go to devour him, biting and sucking his neck, his lower lip, sinking my nails into his flesh, digging my heels into his ass to get more of him, and more, and more, more, more until I flew high, anchored by his body, his love, his safety.
Which was what happened, or a version of it, no matter if he was on top, I was on top, I was on my knees, I was against the wall or bent over the back of the couch or whenever and wherever we did it (and once the gates were opened, we did it a lot).
Totally, if Snap was a different kind of guy, the Sting version of a biker, he’d go tantric. For real.
But he wouldn’t make me do that.
And by the time we got there, no…by the time he took me there, he was so wound up by what I gave him, but I sensed it was more what he’d given me, that his explosion was—there was no other way to describe it—immaculate.
Muted in noise, concentrated in feeling, his fierce hold on me, the way he stilled buried deep inside me, it was like he reached out and drew the edges of the very air around us close, forming a little shell where it was only him and me and making love and finally climaxing.
Shy was an amazing lover.
Beck was no slouch either.
But I’d never had this. I didn’t even know this existed.
What I knew now was that I couldn’t live without it. Not just the “it” of it, sharing that “it” with Snapper.
“You good?” he whispered, nuzzling my neck.
Was I good?
The way it was at all times with Snapper, I knew now I’d never be bad.
No matter what life threw at us we’d always make it.
Because he’d make it so we would.
“I’m good,” I whispered back, nuzzling his neck too and holding him to me in all the ways I could, even after he naturally withdrew from inside me.
If he finished on top, he always gave as much of his weight to me as he sensed I could bear, and fortunately with my ribs close to fully healed, I got to take more and more of him.
But once he did that, he didn’t leave me.
This was something else Snap did. I didn’t know if he preferred the sex or the intimacy of snuggle time after (okay, he was a guy so it was the sex, but the other was a close second).
He didn’t rush either.
We didn’t talk much. But we touched. We kissed. We held. We nestled and cuddled and caressed and squeezed.
But even if we didn’t talk much after sex, make no mistake, Snapper Kavanaugh was a talker, and he spoke in two languages, the one where he just used his mouth and the one where he used absolutely everything.
But even good things had to end, so that morning, like every morning we’d had when we took what was between us where it was meant to be, had to end.
“I gotta get going,” he muttered.
“’Kay,” I muttered back.
He pulled his face out of my neck. “You’re dinner shift tonight, yeah?”
I nodded. “Be home around eleven.”
“You still on to go look at that property with me tomorrow?”
I grinned up at him, excited to be in on the ground floor of one of his investments. “Definitely.”
“Good,” he replied, dipped in, gave me a gentle but thorough kiss, then he rolled off of me.
I shifted to my side and watched him walk naked to the bathroom.
He had his Chaos emblem tat on his back and the Chaos scales with its reaper drifting up from one plate of the scales, the blood dripping from the other that I knew all the men had wherever they wanted to put them, his was along his ribs on his right side.
And down his left side, ribs to waist, in a simple, small, no-nonsense font, he had Henley’s Invictus inscribed.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I hadn’t known what it was (Snap had to tell me).
Even so, the minute I’d read it, the morning after our first night together, I’d touched my lips to it.
I’d had no questions about it. It said it all and what it said defined Snapper.
I knew Snap had not lived in night with demons plaguing him. He had not suffered evils. He had not endured untold tortures. He had fought no bloody battles. And God willing, he never would.
He had a good family who loved him, found another one who did the same, then won the heart of a woman who, day by day, became more tied to him.
But he was so self-contained. So self-aware. So self-assured. I knew deep into my soul that he could be delivered direct to the gates of Hell, and with head high and shoulders straight, he’d walk right through without a blink of his eyes or even a moment’s hesitation.
It was just the man he was.
That wasn’t right.
It was just the man that my man was.
When he’d told me what that poem was, not wanting me to worry, he also told me it meant nothing in regards to his history. It was just the series of words that was the favorite he’d ever read. It spoke to him and he wanted it on him to remind him of the power of those words, and if the time should come for him, it would serve to remind him to be that man.
I did not tell him he already was that man. I hoped he’d never have to find out.
But if he came to a time where he’d be tested, I knew he would then know the man he was, the man he was to me.
In a miracle of goodness, as miracles tend to be, with all of Snapper’s autonomy, I did not feel left out.
In the weeks since we’d officially begun, it was not unusual I came home from a shift to find Snap stretched out on my couch reading. He wasn’t about meeting me at the door and dragging me up the stairs to have sex with me.
He was about me settling in with a beer or a cup of herbal tea, tucked into him in front of the fire, me quiet and unwinding, Snap into his book but still right there with me. And then when it was time, we’d shut down the house, together, and move up the stairs, together, and find our way to the bed…
Together.
He hadn’t lied. I was his world.
It was just a quiet, unhurried world where a roof over our heads and closeness (and a cozy fire) were all that was needed.
I was quiet too. I always had been. I wasn’t attracted to bikers because they were (stereotypically) tough and wild and partying, all about loud music, loud pipes, good times, and loose women. I also wasn’t attracted to bikers (just) because of my dad.
It was the family of a club. The closeness of the brothers. But also, if you found the right one, and in the end, I had, it was about strength and protection and loyalty. The fiercest, truest loyalty I’d seen in my life had always been demonstrated by bikers.
I’d just found the exact right fit for me.
I snoozed while Snap showered but he woke me before he went, moving my hair off my neck and kissing me there.
I slid my eyes up to him.
“Have a great day, Rosie,” he bid softly.
“You too, honey,” I replied.
He touched his mouth to mine and moved away.
I rolled to my other side so I could watch him spiral down the stairs.
I had not been to wherever he lived (because he always came to me). We had not gone on an official date, but we’d spent every night together. We’d gone out to no dinners, but had shared all we could when I wasn’t working. We’d gone to see no movies, but had watched several.
Snapper Kavanaugh and Rosalie Holloway were about a little carriage house tucked far back from a city street, in our little Eden, insulated and isolated from the outside.
Perfect for Snap.
And as with everything I had with Snap, perfect for me.
* * * *
I was getting ready for my shift, still bartending, but I’d be on the floor starting the next week.
I was looking forward to hitting the floor because I got paid more for bartending in the paycheck department, but I could earn a mean tip, and if I was ever going to give Snapper his reading nook and myself some garden furniture, I had to be making a lot more than I was right then making.
So I was stroking on mascara, oblivious to the fact all the discoloration and bruising was long gone. My nose was back to normal. There was a split in my eyebrow, that break and the line that created it was still pinkish, but it was lessening.
None of this factored for me.
I was just putting on mascara.
And that was when the phone rang.
The screen came up with a number not known to me and I didn’t know what drove me to answer it. I never answered calls that I didn’t know the caller because in most cases, they were marketing calls and no one liked the aggravation of marketing calls.
But I answered the phone.
And it would take a great deal of time for me to make the decision if I was glad I did, or wished I hadn’t.
“Hello?” I greeted.
“Rose, it’s me.”
My head dropped and I looked at the basin.
Beck.
I said nothing.
“I don’t got a lot of time. We don’t get a lot of phone calls and there’s a line behind me and they aren’t real patient.”
“Beck—”
“I seriously fucked up and I know it.”
God.
He so did.
But it was also so over so it didn’t matter.
“Beck—”
“Turned my stomach, layin’ hands on you. Almost got sick, watchin’ the boys go at you. Thought it was Cage you were doin’ it for and that was the only reason I got that fire in my belly, thinkin’ all we had was a lie and all the time we had together, your heart was with him. Still, shoulda never took it there. Never put my hands on a woman like that. Never thought I could be a man who would do that to a woman. Especially not the woman who meant somethin’ to me. Lay in this joint every night, not sleepin’, can’t get that shit outta my head, what I did to you. What I let them do to you. Even during the day, if I don’t fight it back, it gets stuck in my throat so bad, I can’t breathe.”
There was something there that he gave me, knowing this. Knowing I had not made an entirely stupid-ass decision letting him into my life and heart.
It still didn’t matter.
“Okay, but Beck—”
“I love you.”
Oh no.
“Beck,” I whispered.
“And I’m sorry.”
That had my head snapping up and I stared at the mirror unseeing, all his words during this phone conversation spiking through me.
“Beck—” I began urgently.
“Find a good one next time, baby,” he whispered, and now his words sent a chill through me.
“Beck!” I cried.
But he was gone.
I fumbled the phone, managing somehow to call Snapper.
It rang only twice when he answered, “Yo, Scully.”
“Beck just called,” I rushed out.
“Say again?” he asked, not sounding happy.
“I think from jail,” I told him.
“Jesus Christ,” he bit.
“No, Snap, he’s done something or he’s going to be doing something.”
“Honey, I told you that—” he began.
“No, no, no!” I cut him off frantically. “He said he loved me and he was sorry and he told me to find a good one and then he hung up on me.”
Snapper was silent.
Totally.
Just what I thought.
Damn it!
“Snapper!” I cried.
“Let me make some calls,” he said.
“He’s gonna rat,” I declared.
“Keep calm, Rosie, and let me make some calls.”
“It’s okay for me to do it, I mean, not okay as we learned all too well, but it is not okay for a brother to rat, Snapper.”
“Rosie, honey, let me go so I can make some calls.”
“He’ll be dead in a week.”
“Baby, letting you go now.”
“Get word to him. Tell him not to do it. Tell him I told him not to do it.”
“Okay.”
“This isn’t about him,” I said hurriedly. “It is, but it isn’t. In the world we live in, he can’t right the wrong he did me unless he lets justice serve. But not this way, Snap. Not this way.”
“I hear you, Rosie,” he said gently. “Now I gotta let you go, baby.”
“Okay, Snap.”
“Call when I know something,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Love you,” he finished.
“Love you too,” I replied.
He disconnected and I found it difficult to focus on mascara.
“I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul,” I whispered to my reflection, trying to get a hold on the panic. It just didn’t work when I concluded, “The problem is, so is he.”
* * * *
I pretty much barreled down the drive at eleven-oh-seven that night, coming home after my shift, touching the garage door opener and making the swing into the garage.
And Snapper did not stay laid out on the couch with his book, only to look over the top of it when I hit the living room and give me warm, happy-you’re-home, now-get-over-here-and-cuddle-with-me eyes.
I hadn’t even pulled into the garage (next to his truck, by the way, he now had the second remote) when I saw him in the doorway to the kitchen.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I chanted.
I couldn’t have my phone on me at work but I’d checked it during a break and I had a message from Snap saying he was still looking into things. But when I’d gone to get my purse after shift was over, I had another message from Snap saying, “I got the details, baby. Don’t think about it. It might not be as bad as you think. I’ll share when you get home.”
I did not drive home like the devil was on my heels because first, Snapper was there and it was worth getting home healthy and all in one piece, and second, I was not a big fan of drivers who drove like wherever they were going was more important than anything else happening on the planet, so I refused to be one of those kinds of people.
Nevertheless, I didn’t dawdle.
After I parked, I grabbed my purse and hurried out of my car, not liking that Snapper was in the kitchen doorway waiting for me.
He’d said it might not be as bad as I think.
Him standing in the doorway made me think it was worse than I thought.
“Hey,” I called, slamming my car door.
“Hey, darlin’,” he called back.
I rounded the hood of my car. “Why are you waiting in the doorway?”
“Because I’m worried about your frame of mind,” he told me.
“My frame of mind was controlled until I saw you standing in the doorway.”
His lips quirked and that finally set my mind at ease.
He got out of the way in order for me to be able to get inside, but also for him to be able to walk to the fridge to grab me a beer. He didn’t even offer tea.
He also didn’t give me a welcome home kiss.
This was bigger than tea, which was bad.
But Snap meeting me at the door and not giving me a kiss?
Okay, now my mind was no longer at ease.
He uncapped a Fat Tire for him, a Blue Moon for me, handed me mine, and then he leaned a hip against the countertop.
I didn’t take a pull of my brew.
I looked into his eyes.
“Talk to me,” I demanded.
“Took me a while to get it because it isn’t intel the cops want out there, but I got it. Throttle turned.”
“He what?”
“Turned. Switched sides. He’s now a CI.”
Oh my God.
I watched TV. I knew what that meant.
“A confidential informant?” I asked to confirm.
“Yeah. Keepin’ him on the inside, they’re gonna find some loophole or technicality to let his ass go. He returns to what’s left of Bounty. Bounty, from all reports, regardless that shit has already got their ass in a sling and their charter is in danger of getting yanked because of it, is returning to working whatever they’re working, including Valenzuela. Since that’s apparently gonna happen inevitably, while it happens, Throttle digs as deep as he can get and he gives them everything he’s finding.”
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
Snapper nodded. “It’s dangerous as fuck. And baby, warning, the degrees a snitch can be a snitch are many, none of them popular, and that’s the highest degree you can get. If he’s about atoning, that motherfucker is all in.”
That was when I took a pull from my brew.
A long one.
“He also promised to keep Bounty off you.”
I nearly choked on Blue Moon.
I swallowed with difficulty and Snap kept going.
“It’s covered, as I explained, but he’s added insurance. And, babe, before you let this sink in too deep and it messes with your head, there is no doubt from that phone call he’s doin’ this for you, but he’s also getting immunity and if the shit he gets on Valenzuela is good enough, WITSEC.”
“Witness protection?” I breathed.
Snap nodded. “Valenzuela is not only a big fish, he’s linked to bigger fish. This operation could go on months, maybe longer, and crack a lot of shit wide open. Throttle offers up something juicy, he’ll have to testify against them, and he’ll get protection.”
“How protective is witness protection?” I inquired and Snap grinned.
“I read a lot, Rosie, but not sure I’ve read any stats on how many bad guys turned snitch got hunted down for vengeance. Though, I know they don’t offer that shit random and definitely not generously. If they give it, they intend for it to do what it’s supposed to do. So he’ll slide right off the grid in a way it’ll take some doing for anyone to find him.”
I drew in a big breath, then let it out.
“You need to know something.”
The way Snapper said that didn’t do anything to my finally calming frame of mind.
“What?” I asked.
“This was our plan all along.”
I stared at him.
“Chaos wanted him to turn,” he explained.
Oh God.
“You knew that?” I queried.
Slowly, he nodded.
“You told me that it was about shutting down the shipments,” I reminded him. “Messing with Valenzuela’s distribution. Showing Bounty the worst of it and pulling them back to the right side.”
“Rosie, baby, if you’ll remember, I did share that we wanted those boys in the joint so pressure could be put on them to do the right thing, and having one of Bounty turn and work with the cops would definitely be the right thing. That said, Tack always wanted more pressure put on Throttle because he figured the man would do what he could to keep you, absolutely keep close to you and not take semi-permanent residence in the clink. He just needed the right incentive to get his head out of his ass and do it. Obviously, all this was supposed to go down without Throttle knowing you helped put his ass in a cell. But that was our ultimate goal.”
I turned my head to look out the window but didn’t see anything, considering I was taking another deep pull of my beer and not liking the thoughts barreling in my brain.
“Rosie,” he called, his tone searching and sweet.
I returned my attention to him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because that was Chaos’s goal. My goal was for you to realize he was an asshole and dump him so I could have a clear go.”
It took a second for his words to hit me.
And when they did I nearly busted out laughing.
I managed not to do that but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
Snap smiled back, so Snapper, not hiding from me he was relieved.
Or how deeply.
But his smile didn’t last long.
“Valenzuela has disappeared,” he announced.
I’d been about to take another fortifying slug from my beer, but what he said made me stop.
“What?”
“No one has seen him in weeks. Weeks that are now becoming months.”
“Whoa,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“We have no fuckin’ clue,” he answered.
“Are you thinking things are better or worse without him?”
“I’m thinking things are uncertain without him. They weren’t entirely certain with him, the man is messed right the fuck up. There was always no telling what he would do, just that whatever he did would be what we know of him. Messed right the fuck up. But at least he was visible, around, and although his operation is tight and him being around didn’t give us dick, something is better than nothing. Him disappearing off the planet is just nothing, and nothing in this situation is not good. Uncertain nothing is definitely not any better.”
“That doesn’t sound real great,” I noted in an understatement.
“It isn’t,” Snap unnecessarily agreed. “But even so, him bein’ gone does not mean his operations have ceased. His crew is still at it like he was in the driver’s seat, full bore.”
“Do you know what that means?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Either he’s callin’ the shots remotely, or he’s put someone in charge. We don’t got much of a handle on it, neither do the cops, and that’s making everyone twitchy.”
I was feeling twitchy right along with them and I didn’t really understand what was happening.
It struck me belatedly he was sharing this with me.
And cautiously, I brought that to his attention. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this kind of thing.”
“Well, I’m deep in this and your ex is now deeper in this. Not to mention, I had to come clean about what the Club was up to with your ex and I didn’t know how you’d respond to that.” He grinned. “So although I’m not gonna give you daily status reports, I never intended to keep you fully in the dark, so here’s where we are now. Me, Chaos…and Throttle.”
My Snapper was so awesome.
“Thank you, Snapper,” I said softly.
“Don’t mention it, Rosie,” he replied.
“Though I think it’s relatively weird I’m thanking you for not keeping me fully in the dark about a drug dealing, woman pimping, gun running, pornographic movie producing bad guy and my ex, who beat the snot out of me with his brothers, who now is putting his ass on the line for immunity and atonement, something your brothers essentially set him up to do.”
His grin spread into a smile. “Yeah, baby. Now we know precisely how nice it is to have our little cloud of sweetness in the sea of all that crazy.”
Oh man, did I know what he meant.
And I loved it that he felt like he was right there with me.
Cloud of sweetness.
That was almost better than Eden.
But Eden was paradise so I was going to stick with that.
“Yeah,” I replied and then took a pull from my beer.
When I finished, Snap asked, “You good?”
I nodded.
He studied me. “You sure?”
I nodded again.
He inched nearer to me, reaching out a hand to tag the side belt loop on my jeans and pull me a lot closer to him.
Our bodies were inches away when he noted, “Rosie, you kind of freaked.”
I was worried he’d worry about that. It wasn’t done for a woman to get twisted up like that for an ex, and the road to our cloud of sweetness had been a pretty rough ride.
“Snap, I have no problem with him paying for what he did to me. But the punishment for that is not him getting shivved.”
He started chuckling and through it muttered, “My Rosie sayin’ ‘shivved.’ Too fucking cute.”
I leaned into him, resting my weight on his body, smiling up at his handsome face. “I’m glad you think it’s cute. But still, I don’t want him shivved. And to come clean to you, he does good with this, my opinion is, he’s atoned. And I hope that WITSEC is better than all those shows that have the mafia guys finding their prey and making them run for their lives.”
There was a loaded moment of hesitation before Snapper replied, “Yeah, that guy was a massive dick and a serious moron, but can’t help, he puts his ass out like this, to hope for that too.” He ran an arm along my waist and pulled me closer, sadly saying, “Since we’re into the heavy, might as well get it all out there.”
Oh man.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t make me wait, and fortunately, it wasn’t as heavy as he thought.
Then again, with the heavy we’d been talking about, it didn’t get a lot heavier.
“Speck wants a word,” he shared. “He was on you when you got taken and he feels shit how things went down with you. I’ve been holdin’ him back because he was not my favorite person and I didn’t want him anywhere near you. But things have settled, you’re good, I need to let that go and he needs to say his piece so he can get that weight off.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“He needs to say his piece.”
“Okay, maybe we should have him over for dinner on one of my nights off.”
“He doesn’t need to say that much of a piece.”
I started laughing.
Oh yeah.
Snap loved our little cloud as much as I did.
“Right, then we’ll meet him for a drink or something.”
“That’ll work,” he muttered.
“Is that it?” I asked.
“No,” he answered.
Man!
I’d had a tough evening, on my feet making drinks, worried about Beck, now all was good (or goodish) I just wanted to finish my beer, make love to my guy, and go to sleep.
“What?” I prompted.
“Shy made an approach. He and Tab want things settled with all of us.”
This confused me.
“Settled how?”
“Shy didn’t do you right,” he began to explain. “And by extension, Tab was involved in that. They feel that and have for a while, but definitely now that you’re back in the fold. They want to make sure all is copasetic in the family.”
“Well, I suppose we can all have a drink too, but that’s still absurd.”
“Sorry?” he asked.
“I dated Shy for what? A month or so? He broke it off with me, started it up with Tabby, they got married and had a baby. Sure, it hurt back then but back then was back then and I’ve moved on. It’s not like Adam chucked Eve aside for a biker princess and they have to apologize to God. People get together. They break up. They move on. It is what it is and that was what it was and we’re all someplace else now. No need to make a big thing about it.”
“Fuck, how much more can I love you?”
I felt every one of those words sink right through my skin and make a beeline to my heart.
“That’s so weird,” I replied. “All the time I ask myself the same thing.”
At my words, Snapper’s entire demeanor changed and I had a feeling they’d found their way to his heart too.
And that made me happy.
“Time to finish your beer, Rosie,” he declared.
I knew it wasn’t time to finish my beer.
It was time to go up to bed.
Together.
So I did something I hadn’t done since I was twenty years old.
I chugged an almost full beer.
Then I made out with my man in the kitchen with both of us smiling through it because Snapper clearly thought watching me chug a beer was funny and I was happy he thought I was funny.
I tossed my bottle.
Snap and I shut down the house.
And we headed up to bed.