Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(54)

I writhed underneath him as he brought me to climax with his hands between my legs and mouth at my breast. He wasn’t tender, he was brutal. It was perfect.

“Brock,” I muttered, needing him inside me.

“No f*ckin’ talking,” he ordered, knifing up to take off his clothes.

I complied and for the rest of the night we made silent, frantic, intense mind-blowing love.

I fell asleep in the early hours, drunk on his touch, happy to be with him. I let my guard down. I let my fa?ade fall and let myself be bewitched by the wedding joojoo.

“I love you,” I whispered to his sleeping body as I drifted off to sleep.

I was too far gone to recognize his body stiffening and his arms tightening around me as I dozed into dreams.

I was driving my car. I didn’t know exactly where to but I knew the direction and I knew I had to get there fast. I knew if I didn’t something terrible would happen. My foot flattened on the accelerator as the landscape whizzed by. I was going to make it. Suddenly ringing sounded on my phone and a voice sounded through the car. “He’s dead, Amy. He’s dead,” Dave’s voice informed me flatly.

“No, no, no” I chanted my world falling apart around me.

I awoke with a jerk. I registered the strong, tattooed arms that encircled mine, the comforting smell of tobacco and the ocean. I felt relief; relief that it was just a dream and that Brock wasn’t dead, it was Ian. I then felt the prickle of guilt over my skin. How could I think that? What was wrong with me?

I had to get out of here. Through some great act of fate I was able to slip out of Brock’s bed and pick up his shirt. The tattered remains of my dress left that as my only option.

“Where you going, Sparky?” a rough voice asked.

I jumped and turned to see Brock, sitting up, his impressive boy on display and looking all sexy and rough from sleep. “I’ve got to go,” I answered quietly.

His face hardened. “You’re f*ckin’ kidding me?” he growled.

I shook my head. “I’ve got to.”

“Fucking save it,” he snapped, getting out of bed and storming toward me. “You aren’t running off after last night, after we finally put all the shit aside and I got you back again. You’re mine. I’m not letting you shut me out anymore,” he declared, snatching the hand that I had been using to button his shirt.

I knew him well enough to know he was serious. To know I couldn’t run anymore. So I had to do it. I had to lie. I couldn’t let him convince me to do what I wanted to and stay here with him. Because with all of the f*cked up shit going on in my head I would f*ck us up eventually. I didn’t want him to have to deal with the guilt I was feeling. He didn’t deserve that.

“I’m not yours,” I declared coldly. “We both know that.”

He jerked at my words but didn’t step away. “That’s a f*cking lie, Amy,” he snapped. “You’re mine. Every inch of you. You’re not perfect. You can be annoying as f*ck, irritating beyond belief and as stubborn as a mule. But you’re perfect for me. You’re meant for me, Amy. Don’t spout shit to me to the contrary.”

“It’s not shit!” I shouted, yanking myself away from him. “I’m not yours. It was never you,” I finished cruelly and I watched him jerk as if I struck him.

I swallowed my tears as his expression turned blank.

“Whatever,” he bit out finally. “You wanna f*ck up your life by pining over a dead man, be my f*ckin’ guest.”

I paused a second and then walked out the door, my heart shattering.





CHAPTER NINE


Present Day


The door opened quietly and Rafe slipped in. The look of anticipation and arousal on his face was enough to make my skin crawl. I ignored it; I had to if I was getting out of this place. I stood up, restraining a wince at the pain.

“I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about you.” I smiled at him seductively as he crossed the room.

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I laid eyes on you, Red. You’re a feisty little bitch. You need me to tame you, don’t you?” he growled, grabbing my head roughly.

I nodded and he dragged me in for a kiss. It was sloppy and disgusting and I really wanted to bite his tongue off, but I had a mission. He was wearing his gun on a belt holster but I needed to render him immobile for this to work.

“Lie down on the bed. Let me take care of you,” I purred, gazing at him through hooded lashes.

He grasped my chin roughly. “You don’t order me around. Got it? For that I’ll punish you...later. First you’re going to take care of me.”

He dragged me toward the bed, pulling me on top of him. I struggled to ignore the pain in my thighs as I straddled him. I kissed his throat, undoing his shirt at the same time. I raked my hands across his chest and heard him groan; my hand moved lower toward his belt. I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I quickly moved my hand to his gun holster, yanking it out.

“What the...” Rafe started to yell, taking him a second to fathom what was going on. It was the second I needed. With all of my strength I smacked him in the temple with the butt of the gun. I prayed it would work like it did in the movies, rendering him unconscious. Luck was on my side; he was out cold.