I run my hand through my hair. Free is watching Esme, but I can’t even look at her. I was inside of her just minutes ago, selfishly. I shouldn’t have fucked her, and I damn sure shouldn’t have let her suck my dick.

What I should have done is ask her about this guy, and about Lucifer’s friends. I didn’t want to do that though. I want to forget she was kidnapped, that she was raped, and abused. I want it to just all disappear. I want to forget the way she looked when I scooped her in my arms all those weeks ago, and the entire reason we saved her.

I want her to be normal, us to be normal, and just plain mine. I want the rest of that shit to disappear, and for a minute it did.

Now it’s all coming crashing back, and I can tell by the look on her face that Esme is feeling the same fucking thing. Will she ever be mine? Will we ever not have that shit between us.

When I brought her into the clubhouse initially, I kept her in my room. I watched as the doctor examined her, and tested her for pregnancy and diseases. I didn’t take my eyes off of her, I couldn’t.

I’ve been drawn to her from minute one. I told myself it was because she could have possibly known something about Lucifer, about his time hunting Hayden.

Then, reality slapped me in the face when she looked up at me with those big dark brown eyes, when she thanked me for saving her, the second night she slept in my bed.

I didn’t just save her, I took her from Lucifer’s bed and placed her in my own because I wanted her and that thought made me sick to my stomach.

It’s the reason I haven’t done anything about my attraction to her, not until today. I couldn’t hold back a second longer, not when she reciprocated by showing her desire for me.

“You’re going to need to go into detail about that,” Free growls.

Esme shakes her head, her dark hair flying around her face. “I don’t want to ever think about it again. No, Free, don’t make me,” she begs.

Free looks from Esme, to me, his eyes sad and his lips downturned. “Sorry, babe. Be at the clubhouse in five,” he grumbles before he walks away.

Esme turns to me as his engine starts and he rides off. Her big brown eyes hold me hostage and I hate the fact that I’m going to have to side with my brother on this. It’s the last thing I want to do right now.

“Please, Abe,” she whispers as tears fill her eyes.

I wrap my hand around her neck and give it a gentle squeeze. “If I could tell him to fuck off, I would, sweets. We need this though. We need to know if you’re in any more danger, or if Hayden and Easton are too. I’m sorry,” I rasp.

“I hate this,” she whimpers.

Lowering my head, I press my lips to hers. “Me too, sweets,” I murmur before I give her a swift kiss.

With Esme pressed against my back, we ride toward the clubhouse. Any other time having her sweet body against mine would be exciting. However, right now all I feel is dread.

I don’t want her to have to relive anything, and yet, I understand why Free needs her to talk about her time with Lucifer. Fucking hell.

Once we’re in front of the clubhouse, I cut my engine and stare at the entrance doors. More fucking dread fills me at the sight.

Esme is holding onto my waist still, her grip tight as shit. Prying her fingers from me, I pat her thigh and she takes the hint, silently, slipping off of my bike. I do the same and together we walk toward the clubhouse.

Glancing to the side, I notice that not only is Free’s bike here, so is Snake’s. When we’re inside of the clubhouse, I don’t bother looking around the bar for either man. Knowing they’re in Snake’s office, I guide Esme toward that direction. Snake is in his chair behind the desk, and Free is sitting on the sofa against the wall.

“You can go, brother,” Snake states, his eyes pointed directly at me.

My spine straightens at the same time Esme’s does. “Fuck that, I’m staying right here with my woman,” I growl.

Snake shakes his head. “Sorry, brother. Not an option.”

“The fuck it’s not,” I grind out through gritted teeth.

Free stands and tips his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. My eyes bounce from one man to the other, and they just stare at me. Esme’s hand touches my arm and I tip my chin to look down at her. She looks resigned and so fucking sad.

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay,” she lies.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that it bleeds. My gut is screaming at me to stay here next to her, to support her. But the men in front of me won’t allow it, and it pisses me off.

Turning around, I walk out of the office without a word, slamming the door closed behind me when I do. Without a glance back, I make my way toward the bar and sit down, lifting my chin in a silent demand for a beer.