Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(45)

I felt dirty. Like a bad person. Like a dirty whore playing two men. I needed a scarlet letter to sew onto my clothes.

I tried to creep out of bed so I wouldn’t have thoughts about one man while wrapped up in another man’s arms. No such luck.

“Morning, sweetheart.” A gravelly voice scratched my ear as arms tightened around me. I couldn’t help but melt back into his warm embrace, my self-deprecating feelings fading away.

“You should get out of here before Gwen wakes up,” I muttered, getting distracted by his mouth at my neck.

“Babe, this is the last time I’m going to feel you in my arms for a long while. Shut up and let me make the most of it.”

I admit I was a coward and let myself relax into his arms. I let his muscled arms hold me. I let us descend into a comfortable silence. For too long. I should have spent the time setting him straight about us. About what last night was. It wasn’t the prelude to Ian and Amy 2.0, complete with commitment and strings. It was closing the page on us once and for all. It was saying goodbye.

“Ian,” I started softly.

He rolled so his body was on top of mine. “Shh. Don’t say anything, babe. Don’t make any decisions about us now. I want to leave with this perfect, untarnished memory of you. It’ll get me through,” he said, drinking me in. “When I come back I’ll have time to win you over, to show you what it’ll be like. Right now I don’t. So just think. While I’m gone think about us. And know I’ll never do anything to hurt you again. I’d die first.” His eyes were intense.

His words shattered the resolve I had been so firm on moments ago. The promise of life with Ian was enticing. I knew he meant every word. He wouldn’t hurt me again, not purposefully, anyway. Life with him would be stable, safe. He’d treat me right and give me mind blowing orgasms. It wasn’t a shabby life. It just wasn’t one I was sure I wanted anymore.

He kissed me softly. “I’ve got to go get packed,” he said quietly.

My stomach dropped. No matter what conclusions I drew about us being together, bottom line was I cared about him. The thought of him going back over to the place where so many people never came back from had me feeling nauseous.

He seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m comin’ back. I promise.” He looked at me a beat more before pushing up from bed.

“You gonna come to the airport?” he asked, pulling on his tee.

I stood, wrapping my robe around me. “Fuck no,” I declared. The thought of saying goodbye to him, being around a blubbering Gwen…no, I couldn’t do that.

He nodded as if he knew this. He gave me one last look then slipped out the door. I emerged later, when he was all packed and Gwen was readying herself to take him to the airport. Her eyes had moved between the two of us as if expecting some kind of performance, but Ian had banished her to the car. She protested weakly then gave me a look before walking out the door.

Ian stared at me a moment, then crossed the room. “This is it, then,” he murmured, gripping my hips.

I nodded, not trusting my words.

“I love you, babe,” he said. He didn’t wait for a response and he kissed me with a furious intensity as I clung to him to stay upright. He pressed his head against mine, then he was gone.





CHAPTER EIGHT


Ian’s departure had left a bitter taste in my mouth. I lost any strength I’d had when he declared I was the person that was going to get him through the last of his tour. How could I say anything to that? I was a coward. His visit stirred up feelings I had been previously ready to let go. The last night between us had totally f*cked me up. I felt sick over the fact it happened. I felt sick at the reverent, tender way Ian had made love to me. He didn’t know my mind had also been on another man after the sweet performance.

I felt sick over the fact I hadn’t seen nor spoken to Brock since Ian left. It had been weeks. Gwen had tried to extract information out of me regarding the entire train wreck I had created but I had refused to speak of it, mainly because I was ashamed at how it all had played out. Also because I was terrified she would be disgusted with me about the way I had treated her brother.

So I tried to forget it all once again. I tried to pretend I didn’t crave Brock’s touch while dreaming of Ian’s smile. That I didn’t wish for the flames I felt from Brock’s lips on mine while I wondered about what life with Ian would be like. I tried to forget it all. Unfortunately fate had decided to thrust Brock and I back together when Gwen got a death threat from a dangerous gang.

The fact she was delivered a box of tarantulas creeped me out and terrified me. I hated the thought of my best friend being in danger once again, so I supported the club going into ‘lockdown’. I supported it until an unsmiling prospect had turned up at my door.

“Gwen’s already been escorted to the biker fortress, kid. I think you’re a bit behind the eight ball,” I informed him.

Regardless of the fact he couldn’t have been much other than twenty, he didn’t look like a kid. He looked mean and dangerous.

“You’ve got to come with me to the clubhouse,” he informed me.

“You’re kidding, right?” I scoffed at him.

His face was blank. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Well, you look like a kid who’s used to extracting lunch money with little or no argument. I’m telling you now I’m not going anywhere,” I informed him.