13.

Elise

 

I turn down my street with a plastic bag in each hand seeing as I had to walk to the grocery store since I still haven’t figured out the car situation yet.

Chili sounded good for dinner tonight. There are warm weather foods and there are cold weather foods. Chili though, chili can and should be enjoyed year round. And even if I’m the only one to enjoy it, I make a delicious chili. Hands down. Garnishes of Fritos, shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream and chopped avocado. My chili could break a mama’s heart, it’s so good.

But as I reach the neighbor’s lawn all thoughts of chili vanish what with watching the moving van in front of my brownstone and the men loading it up with furniture. Furniture they’ve hauled by trampling over my newly planted summer flowers. I spent hours painstakingly plotting colors and positions to give the most aesthetic view from the street. And now the flowerbed is ruined. All that hard work down the drain.

Then every time one of the men knocks something heavy, a credenza or dining table, against the antique brick siding, my heart breaks a little more.

Vinnie is actually moving? Vinnie, my landlord who owns the building now.

It doesn’t click with me, seeing all that’s going on around me that the sofa being loaded into the van looks like my sofa.

“Vinnie?” I call out. “You’re moving?”

“No darlin’, you’re movin’ home.”

Beau.

“Oh, come on!” I say, just now noticing the cuts where mover logos should be. “You let them in my house?”

Vinnie looks at me, completely unremorseful. “When bikers show up on my lawn insisting I let them in or face bodily harm, I do it sweetheart.”

“Beau, this is insanity. You can’t break into my home.”

“This ain’t your home, darlin’. I’ve decided your home’s in Thornbriar, with me.” He emphasizes by poking his thumb to his chest. “So now I’m moving you home.”

No one is listening to me. They just keep loading my life into the back of a U-Haul.

“How’d you even find me?”

“How you think he got the name Bloodhound?” he asks smugly, pointing to one of the men moving my dresser.

I swallow, trying to calm myself when Chaos walks out of the apartment carrying a small box in one hand. In the other he flicks on—“Do you have my vibrator?”

“Kinky little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Boss wants you so badly.”

He holds that particular vibrator against his cheek. “I wouldn’t put your face against that one,” I warn him.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Because it doesn’t go in the hole you think it does.”

A couple strangled laughs come from the guys who get it right away.

Chaos cocks his head and stares blankly at me, a look to say he doesn’t follow. And then I see it, when my words click. A big smile spreads across his gorgeous face and he calls out. “Boss, I think I’m in love with your old lady.” That same wry smile lets everyone else know, too.

“Watch yourself,” Beau grumbles at the same time I protest.

“I’m not his old lady.”

“Here we go again.” Chaos sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m not kidding. I’ve been avoiding you, Beau. When will you get it through that thick head of yours? I’m not your old lady. I’m not moving. I don’t like you anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you love me.”

Love him? I never said I loved him. Even though I did love Beau years ago. But this new Beau, we had a connection. That’s all. Right? I couldn’t have been falling in love with him again, could I?

None of that matters now, anyhow. His arrogance needs to be taken down a notch. “No. That was Mark,” I say snidely.

The men stop moving furniture to stare at me.

“Elise, we’ve been over this. You got shit to say to me, you say it in private. We don’t air out our laundry in public.”

“Well Beau, since you’re too stupid to clue in that I won’t be going anywhere with you in private, public will have to do.”

“Dammit woman.” He grumbles. “You got this?” He calls to someone I don’t see because I turn to walk away. Total rookie move on my part. Never turn your back on the enemy, which in my case, happens to be six plus feet, two hundred pounds of solid muscled angry biker. Basic battle strategy. Yet I do and find myself being flung, once again, over Beau’s shoulder.

I, of course, start kicking and screaming, pounding on his back and ass. Rock hard ass. Focus, Elise. You’re being kidnapped.

He slaps my bottom. Hard. “Ouch!”

I scream even louder.

“Tried doin’ it the easy way. You apparently get off on doin’ it hard, so I’ll give you all the hard you can handle.”

“Beau, put me down, now.”

To my surprise, he does. He drops me on the back of his bike. Despite bikers freaking me out most of my life, I’ve kind of always wanted to ride on a bike. Just to see what all the fuss is about.

“This is nice,” I whisper. Forgetting for the moment to be upset.

“Well, so you know, you’re the only woman to ever ride with me.”

That’s actually really sweet.

“Thing is, I take ridin’ as seriously as breathin’. Other brothers might not be the same, but for me, only my old lady rides on the back. Only my old lady. Ever. And Elise, that’s you, darlin’. Always been you.”

That’s really very sweet, too. But, “I’m not your old lady, Beau.”

“God, Elise.” He kicks back the stand while starting the engine, revving a couple of times before taking off. I have no choice but to hold on, although I hold on to the edges of his cut instead of putting my arms around his waist and try to keep my thighs from pressing against him.

Part of me begins to melt into the sensation of his powerfully strong body molded taut against me while vibrating lightly from the powerful engine beneath us. It’s too easy to melt around Beau if I let my guard down. We tend to get pretty melty around each other. And I know some would say melty is good. But some would be wrong, way wrong, and this would be why I have to fight the melty, to get my guard up fully in place.

He doesn’t want me, he wants his revenge, and I’ll be damned if I’m just going to turn over, or in this case, melt, and give it to him. And with this last thought in my head, I realize the opportune moment I’ve been given when we slow for a traffic light, and I click that guard back up and lock it down.

“You’re a liar, Beau.” I leap from the back, pretty much surprising the both of us, and take off running in a full-blown sprint toward an escape. Checking every-so-often over my shoulder to gauge how far away I’ve run.

My feet beat hard against the pavement, and I wish I had worn better shoes because I feel every step in my shins.

Soon I’ve lost sight of him completely and turn down another busy street. Cars speed and weave past me with horns honking in warning, as I try not to end up roadkill. Another opportunity presents itself. There’s a random pickup truck sitting at a stoplight. I jump into the cab right as it begins to pull away from the red light just turned green.

“Please go.” Panting heavy, I cry at the driver, slapping his dashboard with several rapid open handed slaps in the universal gesture for hurry. “I was kidnapped.”

But he doesn’t go. Well he does, but only so far as to pull off into a McDonald’s parking lot, locking the doors and leans forward to fish his phone from the center console.

“She’s here,” he says to someone on the other end.

What have I gotten myself into now?

“No, she just jumped into my truck…Will do.”

He hangs up and not a minute later the rumble of a Harley engine echoes behind us. I look out the side of the truck to see Beau dismounting his bike and walking up.

That’s when I turn back to the driver, for the first time it clicking what’s in front of me. The cut, he’s wearing a cut. Big patch across the back says: PROSPECT.

Worst. Luck. Ever.

“What can I do to get you not to open that door?” I beg, bringing out the big puppy dog eyes, trembling lip and hands curled into a prayer position at my chest.

Apparently the man has no heart, as he says nothing but cranes his neck to blast me with a Beau-esque glare that says: Ridiculous woman. If that look is a prerequisite to join a motorcycle club, or what everyone shortens to MC, then he’s well on his way to getting patched in. And maybe I am a ridiculous woman. Because he clearly wants nothing from me despite me offering money, sex, even home cooked meals for a year.

With that last one he asks, “And how would I collect on that?”

Okay, so he might have a point. But aren’t bikers supposed to be morally dubious? Couldn’t he take me up on one of my other offers? I mean, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes, he could probably show a girl a good time—what am I saying? I don’t want to sleep with this guy, I just really don’t want him unlocking the door for an even more pissed off looking Beau.

So what does the prospect do? Unlocks the door for an even more pissed off looking Beau.

“Traitor.” I sneer while being lifted out of the front seat and flung, yet again, over Beau’s shoulder. Caveman.

“My patience has officially run out.” He growls, dropping me hard on the back of his bike. “Try that stunt again, Elise, see what you get. You understand me?” When I don’t answer he tilts my chin up. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He kisses me then. And it’s powerful, filled with a million different feelings and sensations, the kind which gets me melty, though I don’t mean to. So unfair.

When he pulls back the kiss, he shoves a helmet down over my head and climbs on the bike in front of me. But before we take off, he slides me forward so all of me is pressed up against all of him, and pulls my arms to wrap around his waist to hold on tight.

Frantically, I turn my head to the left and right, hoping to find an escape. That’s when I spy him, a man on a bike. Dark sunglasses covering the top half of his face, and a black bandana printed with the bottom half of a skull, covering up the bottom. I’ve seen him before, at Lady’s. The black leather cut means he’s a biker.

He’s probably a Lord. But I don’t like the way he watches us. It’s unnerving.

“Beau.” I tap his shoulder. “Who’s that guy?”

“Not now, Elise. I’m pissed.”

That doesn’t stop me. I keep tapping until he looks. “What guy?” he asks.

No guy, now. He’s gone. Poof! Gone.

“I’m not kidding. There was a guy on a bike.”

“Darlin’, there’s guys on bikes all over.”

 

***

 

Why does Beau have to have such good genes? Handsome. Sexy. Imposing. Confidant.

We hit the highway almost immediately, meaning he really doesn’t want to risk me hopping off again.

The man doesn’t talk to me. Doesn’t even attempt to talk, and we drive for a while, drive ‘til my hands cramp from holding on so tightly. We’re somewhere in Indiana when I can’t hold on any longer.

“Beau,” I finally shout as loudly as I can with the wind whipping all around us. “Beau, I’m so cold and hungry.”

He points to a highway sign which shows a food and lodging exit. We’ve been on the road for a few hours now, both of us using the opportunity to calm down. It shouldn’t feel so good to be pressed against him, not after the way he betrayed me. Yet it does. Our connection constantly humming beneath my skin. I compare old Beau to new Beau. How the years have changed him. Maybe I should quit fighting this, fighting him. Because I know now that he’s never going to let me go. And truth be told, I’ve missed him. Dammit, I hate myself for admitting defeat. But as he rolls into the parking lot of a hotel—a nice one—and dismounts, I realize that’s it. He’s won. I’ve officially been defeated.

Big changes are in store for my future, and I’m not sure what to think about said changes. As I stand next to his bike trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do, Beau brushes his knuckles gently over my cheek. Seems new Beau can still read me as well as old Beau used to.

“Come on, darlin’.”

When I pull the helmet off my head, I know my hair must look awful, but Beau slides his arms around me, holding me, hugging me like he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

Is it possible he didn’t betray me? That maybe I overreacted. I mean, could a man radiate so much love for a woman, when all he wants is revenge? Because all I feel from him, if I’m honest, all I’ve ever felt from the man holding me, is love.

Shoot.

But he did lie to me. Can I forgive him for that indiscretion? The sight of Beau’s lips descending breaks through my thoughts. As his lips press against mine, there’s no room for consternation. Only sensation. His tongue. Stroking, caressing my own.

Beau breaks out melt-worthy Beau. I can’t go against melt-worthy Beau, there is no going against melt-worthy Beau. Dammit again.

I sigh. He hears my sigh, feels it and smiles through the kiss, moving one of his hands to squeeze my butt cheek. He probably thinks I’m swooning. It’s not that, but because I’ve come to a conclusion. That conclusion being I’m more of an idiot than I ever gave myself credit for.

So giving in to this conclusion about myself, giving in to the reality, a reality in which this man really cares for me, I give in to, well, everything. And because the hits just keep on coming, it’s now that the hours of having my lady bits rubbing up against him catch up. Hunger completely forgotten, there’s only one thing I’m hungry for now. Two words. Sounds like smelt-sworthy. Like that, he has me so worked up I’ve already talked myself from a simmer to rolling boil. And we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.

Well, I mean, it’s always good with Beau, but still…Ugh.

So much for my life in Chicago. Because I give him me with one word. “Beau.” Yep, just his name. Of course it left my mouth on a resigned whisper. “Beau…”

“Right here, darlin’.” He chuckles out his response. Really, chuckles.

How dare he? One doesn’t chuckle after unleashing the melty. Look at the state he’s left me in. I’m a rolling boil standing in a parking lot with other cars filled with passengers of the adult and child variety. That pisses me off more. Kids shouldn’t witness his melty and my returning rolling boil.

Folding my arms under my breasts, I clench my jaw and glare hard. “Take me to bed or lose the ability.”

Chuckle gone, the bastard outright laughs. He has a beautifully rich laugh. Similar to the one he had when we were teens, but more mature sounding. A lot of life experience held in that laugh. He drops his hold from my butt to take my hand.

Beau tugs me along behind him, through two sets of glass double doors, inside the hotel coming to a stop in the spacious, brightly lit lobby. Slate gray walls, slate gray and white striped sofas, and a modern, sleek metal and glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling in front of reception.

Check in goes quickly, although the clerk really lays on the compliments for my man. Sorry honey, that’s my melty.

And I don’t even wait for him to close the door to our hotel room before starting to strip. Clothing tossed in a trail, ending up with me sprawled naked across the lush, fluffy white comforter before he ever kicks off his second boot.

There’s real hunger in his eyes as he peruses every inch of my body. “So eager,” Beau says. Though I’m not sure if he means me or him. “My mouth or my cock, darlin’?”

I’ve had it with the waiting. “Any. All. Both. Fuck, I don’t care. Just fuck me, Beau.”

He drops to kneel in front of me, spreading my legs wide and dragging my bottom to rest at the edge of the bed. Planting my heels against his thighs, he cups an arm under and around each of mine, tilting my hips up into the exact position he’s after. Using his luscious mouth to pepper kisses up my inner thighs, nipping then laving his tongue over each spot his teeth grazed, he’s not shy about showing how much he enjoys the feast, groaning out his excitement or approval.

Writhing and squirming, I grip handfuls of comforter just to have something to do with my hands. It’s already too much, and he’s just getting started. From there, Beau’s mouth turns magical, licking, sucking, and nipping exactly where I need his mouth to be. Pure blissful torture the way he goes at me. Slowly and purposeful, and totally in control.

My hips move, grinding down against him because what he’s doing is great, but I need more. Beau’s not in the mood to be rushed, moving his forearm to rest against my pelvis, stilling my hip movements, relentless in his slow punishment.

Like I said, magic.

I can’t hold on as wave after wave of unadulterated pleasure rushes over me, making me come harder than I thought humanly possible. And considering the orgasms he gifted me before I high-tailed it out of town, that’s saying something. Yes, it’s safe to say the man has unprecedented oral skills.

While I’m still riding that euphoric high, I feel him slide inside me.

Oh shit.

With every thrust, he moves us up the bed until my head hits the pillow, never once breaking his rhythm. I’m literally along for the ride. Then repositioning us, he throws one of my legs over each shoulder. Before resuming the festivities, he pauses to kiss me. This one sweet, tender, as he whispers against my lips. “Love you, baby girl.”

Then just like that, he begins overwhelming my senses, building my sexual world up with every pull, only to topple it through every push. Those thick locks, I want to run my fingers through it, rake my fingernails over his scalp until he gives me his approving grunts of pleasure, but he won’t let me, holding my hands above us as he continues the pounding, the frantic.

The slapping of skin is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. I feel another orgasm coming on. So close. But before I get the chance to get there, he stops, flips me over to my belly and brings my hands up to hold onto the headboard. From there he lifts my right leg to hook backward around his thigh, and he grinds. The grind alone would do it, but Beau takes me to the next level reaching around to press his finger against my happy spot while lacing the fingers of his other hand through mine still gripping the headboard so we’re gripping it together. And he keeps grinding. I can’t…he just…oh god.

This is different from anything we’ve ever done before. Slamming my head back against his shoulder, I detonate, my orgasm bomb going off all around him. Again. He won’t let up. Won’t let me recover. Pressing kisses down my neck while he continues to press against my happy spot. His manipulations almost painful, so raw, so sensitive. Yet he won’t let up on the pumping and grinding until he rings out another two orgasms before he finally follows me in post-coital bliss.

Four orgasms in one night.

I’m spent.

The man’s a miracle worker.

Why was I fighting this?

His release came just as beautiful, the way he turned my chin to look him in his eyes as he unloaded inside me. Then falling against my back, he trapped me between the headboard and his body for only a moment under all his body weight before pushing up on one arm while brushing strands of hair, which had fallen in front of my eyes, behind my ear with his other hand.

Beau lays us down, face to face, chest to chest. I have to remind myself he’d lied to me. Yet, the way he never breaks his stare, it’s so personal. So intimate. So much more than great sex.

I’m lost to him again.

“Done fightin’ me, now?” he asks on a heavy breath.

God he’s beautiful, sweat glistening his brow as he smiles that crooked smile down at me. He already knows the answer.

I nod. My head being the only part of my body I seem to have retained control over. Never knew it could be this good.

“Why, Elise?”

His question confuses me, pulling me from the blissful state I’d taken up residence in.

“I need to hear you say it,” he then says, and it hits me, what he needs to hear.

“I don’t know if I can tell you yet.”

“You can. You’re thinkin’ too much. I don’t wanna know what’s in here.” Then he brushes the back of his hand along my temple. “The head always messes shit up. I wanna know whatcha feel here.” He moves his hand to press the skin over my heart.

Oh, what do I feel? What. Do I feel? Only that my head and my heart are at war with each other, and I should be putting up more of a fight (my head) but I’m tired of fighting and just want to enjoy my time with him (my heart).

“Part of me might still hate you, Beau.”

“Darlin’.” He shakes his head then brushes a light kiss over the apple of my cheek. “None of you hates me. You’re just scared, and I get it. I wasn’t exactly up front with all the information.”

“Just give it to me now.”

“Can we agree to you tryin’ life as my old lady, first?’

“I’m here aren’t I?”

“Don’t know. Are you here or are you here? Because baby girl, I need you to know the parts I withheld, those are the unimportant parts. The feelings I’ve given you, those are what’s real, what matters.”

“I’m here, Beau. But I’m not ready to give you any more than that yet.”

“Fair enough. Waited seven years. Can wait a little longer.”

Hell, even if I didn’t still love him, after he gave me four orgasms? Yeah. I nod again. Snuggling closer against his chest. I’m good giving him that.

“Okay,” Beau says, very seriously. As if we’d decided something.

“Okay.” I repeat, too tired and sexually spent to say more.

Then after leaning over to kiss my forehead, he tugs us both up the bed. As he folds down the covers, I arch my butt up to help him along, then we’re laying side by side, me tucked up under his arm once he’s brought the blankets back up to cover us.

“Now sleep. We got a lot to talk about. I wanna rest before we get into it, and I want us past it by the time we get home.”

“Sure.” I yawn, letting Beau flip me over to use him as a full body pillow. He flings my arm across his pecs and my leg across his thigh. And I’m perfectly fine giving up all the control because I lack the energy to do anything but submit.

Pulling me closer, kissing the top of my head once more, he lets me alone to drift off to sleep.

When my eyes open again, it’s to the sensation of Beau kissing my neck, sucking the skin into his mouth. There’s no light filtering in around the curtains from the outside, so it must still be early morning.

“Hey, baby girl.” He pauses his ministrations to greet me.

I finally get to reach up and run my fingers through that thick hair. Losing the hairband, his luscious peanut butter locks fall down around his neck. He presses into my hand, his low growl, an admission to his enjoyment on how I work my fingers.

“I think I wanna fuck you again before we talk.” Beau brushes his lips along my earlobe.

“Weren’t you supposed to tell me the truth while buried to the hilt inside me?”

He pulls back allowing me to see his whole face, but mostly my eyes fixate on that adorably crooked smile. “You remembered.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Hardly an offer a girl could forget.”

Beau rolls over on top of me, resting most of his bodyweight on his forearms. “Open your legs, darlin’.”

I do, allowing him to settle between them. My inner thighs resting against his outer thighs. “You ready to hear the truth?”

Yes. I nod my answer. No buildup necessary this time, just the promise of what’s to come, namely me. As I am achingly ready.

He positions himself at my entrance and slides in, slowly filling me up to the hilt. Nothing has ever felt as perfect as Beau inside me.

Before he begins to move, he holds my stare. “I never set you up. Think you know that by now, but it’s important I get that out first.” Then he moves his hips, withdrawing almost all the way before sliding in slowly again. Every inch of him extracting concentrated pleasure. “Was plannin’ on tellin’ you that day, so I could be there for you, support you at your father’s funeral.” He picks up the pace, only subtly, kissing everywhere his lips reach.

I think it’s perfect until he throws a twist of his hips in hitting the spot. And I scream his name, digging my nails into his back. I might have drawn blood. I don’t know. What I do know, this…this is perfection.

“I wanted us to show a united front. I needed the town to know they mess with you, they feel the wrath of the Brimstone Lords. I have loved you since high school, Elise. You should’ve been mine from that day in front of the Whippy Dip. Not Logan’s. But you chose him then, so I hung back for you and for him. ‘Course, by spring of your senior year you found your way back to me. You and me, we were already in love. Even if you hadn’t said the words yet.”

“But you didn’t want me because of the baby.”

He twists his hips again rendering me incapable of thinking straight.

“You’re wrong, darlin’. I wanted you and was willin’ to raise Logan’s baby as my own. Everyone was hurtin’ so bad at the funeral, lookin’ to me to make it right. I thought if I just gave them that day…”

My heartrate kicks up as his pace picks up.

“Oh, Beau…”

“Elise, baby girl. You left that day…and never…oh fuck! Never…came back.”

I clamp down around him at the start of my release, triggering his release, and we come together.

And then we pass out.

It’s later in the morning by the time I open my eyes again. I can tell by how the light that didn’t shine earlier, shines around the closed curtains now. He’s beautiful lying next to me, slumbering in a way which seems to have evaded me despite the mind-blowing orgasms he’s pulled from my body.

If I stay in bed with him I’ll keep tossing and turning, only succeeding to wake the poor, clearly spent man from his restfulness. So I carefully, slowly slink from the bed and his arms, and move to the bathroom for a little me time.

Can I accept what he’s told me and move on? Because I never want to be that woman, the one who brings up shit that happened twenty years ago just to hurt him. If he and I are going to make this work, I have to be able to put that time behind me.

The water jets in the shower help to reduce my stress some. Lying flush against the travertine tiles, they massage my body with spray from three walls.

Truthfully, what does holding a grudge do besides cause us both heartache? How much more time am I willing to waste? Our truth isn’t easy, but it’s ours. And I have to accept it or let him go for good.

With the water pelting against my skin, I sink to the floor. Realization hitting like a hammer strike: I’m not ready to let him go for good.

I’ve decided to forgive Beau Hollister.

When I step back inside the room wearing nothing but the fluffy, white towel, he’s awake and his eyes alight with intense desire for me. To his credit though, he doesn’t look solely at my body, moving those chocolate brown eyes up to meet my blue ones.

“What brought on that smile?” he asks. “It lights up the whole room, you know that?”

“I forgive you Beau.” I shrug, needing him to feel my sincerity.

He knifes up, a thickness to his voice. “For what? What’d I do this time?”

“You aren’t getting it. I forgive you.”

There’s the lightbulb moment. “Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair gathering it like he’s going to pull it into a bun but without his hair tie, lets the strands fall again. “You mean it? Really, honestly mean it? Because I can’t go on with life thinkin’ we’re good only to have you spend your life fumin’ away, waitin’ to explode all over me.”

“I mean it. I’ve spent all night thinking. And well, you didn’t really do anything wrong. Aside from not supporting me at the funeral. Or telling me who you are.”

“Who gives a fuck if I’m Mark or Beau?” He slams his hand down onto the bed next to him. “I’m still the man who loved you in high school. I’m still the man who loves you now.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Apparently I don’t care. So if you want me, I’m telling you now, you have me. All of me.”

Throwing off the bedclothes, Beau leaps from the overstuffed mattress. Smile lines crinkle around his glassy eyes, and the crooked one around his lips. In two steps has me, holding me in his arms. Tenderness to his touch, using a crooked finger, he tips my chin up. “Let’s go home, darlin’. We’ll go to the store, invite some friends over. I’ve got a kickass grill. Steaks sound good?”

“With bleu cheese, fried onions and creamed spinach on the side?” I laugh as hot tears run down my cheeks.

Beau swipes at my tears, clearing his throat. “Can you cook creamed spinach?”

“Sure. I’m a great cook.”

He shifts slightly, still buck naked, to unhook the towel covering me, letting it drop to the floor so our bare bodies press together. Although the scene becomes intimate he doesn’t act on it, moving his hands to my hips instead.

Beau presses his forehead to mine, squeezing his eyes shut. “Check us out,” he says. “How very domestic of us.”

“Domestic sounds nice.”

“Domestic sounds fucking perfect.”