Burning It All (5 page)

“Not you,” Jack says hoarsely. “Not you, Lily. Strong-arming you is what I’m trying
not
to do.”

Oh, the bastard. How goddamn
dare
he sound ripped up? How goddamn dare he look at me like that, with his dark eyes as desolate as a fucking wasteland.

“Then what the hell was it about? Do you
like
seeing me on the edge of losing every fucking thing I’ve fought for?
Again?
”

“No. God, Lily.” Despair lines his face when reaches for me and I flinch away. He freezes for a long second, his eyes emptying. His hands curl into fists and he sits back. “The boss would never pull you out.”

Another knife slashes through my stomach. “So the prez fucking knew what you were playing, too?”

“No.”

I don’t understand. “You wanted the prez pissed at you? Were you strong-arming
Saxon
? Into doing what?”

“Putting the responsibility for your safety in my hands,” he says, and although his voice is flat, he’s rubbing at the center of his chest like it hurts him. “So that when I go after the Hangmen, it’s not because I’m protecting you. Instead it’s what the boss put on me.”

I stare at him.
Not because I’m protecting you.
Except by doing this, none of the brothers would ever be able to suggest that Jack took out the Hangmen because I couldn’t handle the threat on my own. No one could say Jack had to bail me out of danger.

I
couldn’t say it, either. I could never accuse him of standing as my shield. He would just be doing what the boss said to do.

How do I even process that? “So you didn’t want me to know that you
are
protecting me.”

His eyes close and he rubs at his chest, rubs while his throat works. But he doesn’t say anything. Just rubs and looks like he’s suffering all the levels of hell.

Good. So he feels like I do.

My breath hitches when I try to speak again. “Do you think I’m so fucking stupid that I can’t see the difference between you—the Riders’ warlord—taking out a threat to a patchholder, and you—the man I’m in love with—standing as my shield?”

“Lily.” His face is haggard when he opens his eyes, his gaze bleak as it meets mine. “There is no fucking difference. I’m that warlord. I’m that man. And if I can protect you while I’m protecting the club, I fucking
will
.”

So he does think I’m stupid. Or maybe I just
am
. Because my heart is hurting, and my head is hurting, and I still don’t understand why he didn’t just tell me what I was walking into.

And now I’m too close to it. Too close to him. And too full of all these goddamn emotions that cause so many big fucking problems.

Blinded by a flood of sudden, stupid tears, I nod and get to my feet. “Okay. Whatever. I’m heading home.”

I hear the breath he sucks in, sharp and ragged. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say anything until my hand’s on the door, and then the world fall apart around me.

Because he asks, “You want me to start bunking somewhere else?” but his question sounds like it’s echoing from a corpse’s chest, as if he’s already sure of the answer and it’s killing him.

Jesus, he’s so fucked up.

My tears spill over and I wipe them away. “No, you asshole,” I tell him. “Just give me an hour alone so I can deal with this shit. And tell me you’re still all in.”

“I’ll never be out,” he says roughly, and there’s life in his voice again, but I know if I turn around I’ll start bawling, and I hate these stupid fucking tears.

“Good,” I say, then slam the door behind me.

I wish I could slam it on his head.

Lily

If my ankle wasn’t in a cast, I’d spend the next few hours riding my bike, clearing my head, letting everything settle. Instead I drive home with the windows down.

Home is a split-level ranch I got for a steal after returning from Afghanistan. I’ve been sharing it with Jack the past few weeks. At first, he just stayed nights, but after his own place was torched, he’s been here full time. Our lives slid together so easy. The only change I’ve made is hiring a housecleaning service, because I don’t keep up with my mess and I don’t want neat-freak Jack to try.

It’s been good. So damn good. I don’t ever want to lose it. I know he doesn’t want to, either.

But now I realize he’s been expecting to.

I feel hollowed out as I take the stairs up from the garage. The tears never developed into full-on bawling, and there’s still a hot ache lodged in my chest.

I don’t know what the fuck happened back at the clubhouse. I’m still trying to untangle it. But I know both Jack and I are new to this relationship shit. There’s nothing behind either of us but a series of hookups. So maybe it’s a miracle we got this far without a blowout.

Maybe it’s a miracle we got this far at all. I mean, Jesus. Jack is completely fucked up, but he’s not the only one. My dad used to be the Hellfire Riders’ prez, and he’d have cut off his dick before letting me patch in. My mom is
still
telling me I should be a biker’s old lady instead of a patchholder; according to her, my entire existence is an affront to my father, and even after he died, she never let me forget it. My whole damn life, every decision I’ve made was with an eye toward becoming a Rider. And once I got in, I spent every damn second making sure no one could come up behind me and tear me down.

I stopped watching for Jack. Because I don’t
need
to. Whatever shit happened today, I know that.

It just takes a little time to remember it.

He’ll give me the hour. He’s always given me space when I need it. But I’m not surprised when I hear the sexy growl of his bike rolling in as the minutes pass sixty. He’ll be preparing to fight—to fight
for
me. For this.

So will I.

I’m waiting for him in the living room, sitting on the arm of the sofa, when he comes up the basement stairs. So fucking big and gorgeous and dangerous—and looking like he’s already been through hell, yet expecting to wade through another few levels. He stops when he sees me, his long body tense. His dark gaze sweeps me head to toe.

“You all right?” His voice is a fucking mess.

So is mine. “Yeah. I just want to know why the hell you didn’t tell me what you were doing.”

His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. Not refusing to answer, I know, because he makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh. But the wry look he gives me is tortured rather than amused.

“I fucked up before and hurt you,” he says gruffly. “I was trying not to fuck up again.”

“By questioning whether I can stand with the brothers? Really?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be a real question, because the answer was so damn obvious. I just forgot to add in the shithead factor.”

The way he calculates risk. The shithead factor is the one he doesn’t see because he can’t think the way other people do. “Like Knucklehead?”

“And you, responding to any bullshit he says. Because I can’t
see
you as someone who needs to be kept home for her own protection. So I can’t imagine why you’d waste a second of your time telling him to fuck himself. But I should have. So I fucked up.”

“Considering a topic of discussion was my inevitable gang-rape, I’d say that you fucked up spectacularly. Yet you still got what you wanted. Except for me knowing you’re standing as my shield.”

“Yes.” His voice is hoarse again. He swallows hard, rubs at his chest. “I’m so fucking afraid of losing you, Lily.”

And there it is. The heart of it. For both of us.

I breathe out a shaky laugh. “Good. Because that means I’m not the only one who’s scared.”

His jaw tightens. “Of the Hangmen?”

“No.” Idiot. “Of losing you.”

He frowns. “How are you going to lose me?”

“Jesus, I don’t know.” I spread my hands. “Maybe you’ll wake up one morning and realize how you don’t need me for anything.”

The hand stills on his chest as he stares at me. “What kind of shit are you saying?”

“Maybe some true shit. Why’d we hook up in the first place? For the sex. But you sure as hell don’t need that. The past few weeks, you didn’t get anything but your own hand until a few days ago, when I could start sucking your dick again.”

“You think I don’t want your pussy?”

“
Want
it? Sure. Need it?” I shrug. “But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe that is what you’re waiting around for.”

His eyes narrow and he pushes away from the wall, heading toward me. “Now you think I’m only here for the fucking?”

“I don’t know.” But he’s taking off his kutte and his shoulder holster, as if he’s thinking of fucking me to prove he’s not here for the sex. God, I hope so. I won’t make it easy, though. I bare my teeth in a sharp grin. “Maybe you just need a place to stay after your own burned down.”

“
Such
bullshit.” He catches my face up in his hands. I’m laughing when he kisses me but the laughter’s gone so fast, swept away by hunger for his taste and the inexorable will that is Jack on a mission.

I know why he’s here. The same reason I am. It started as anger and sex and a stupid-ass bet, but now it’s the sheer joy of feeling Jack against me, all that warm muscle and skin. I drag his shirt up and he breaks away just long enough to pull it over his head.

Another opening. I grab his belt and tug. “So this morning, when I was sucking your cock down my throat, were you going over your plan for the board meeting in your head? Maybe you were congratulating yourself for being such a big, protective hero while I swallowed your cum.”

“Fucking Christ, Lily.” Expression dark, he snags my wrists and drags my hands from his cock. “I don’t get
pleasure
out of the shit I do. Not for the club, not killing. I do what needs to be done.”

I know. He’s not
that
fucked up. “Then maybe it was when you got your mouth on my pussy and worked me up into a sloppy mess.”

His fingers tighten and he yanks me closer, bringing his face down to mine. His gaze searches my features before his grip eases. His mouth softens into a smile. “Lily Burns, you’re just looking for a fight.”

“Damn right I am. Because it’s a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the other shit.”

His teeth catch my bottom lip. A shiver races over my skin, then he pulls away. Sliding his hands beneath my shirt, he begins easing it over my head. Still taking care of me, still careful not to hurt my sore ribs. “What other shit?”

“The shit you’re afraid of.” I flatten my palm over the names inked on his chest, surrounded by demons and flames. His dad. His mom. His brother. One a child-raping bastard dead by Jack’s hand; for that, the other two never want to see him again. “Every person who ever said they loved you pushed you away, even though you were protecting them. You think maybe I will, too. You thought I would today.”

He’s gone utterly still. “Yes.”

A single agonized word, yet it says so damn much. “I haven’t had the amount of shit piled on me that you did, but I’m exactly the same. I can count up the people who’ve loved me on one hand. And the people who share my blood, who should have loved me? They aren’t in that number.”

A shudder wracks his big body and he pulls me closer. “It’s their fucking loss.”

“It is. It’s your family’s, too. But I’m not like them, and you’re not like my mom or dad. And this thing we have is more than blood. It’s our future, Jack. It’s our life. So I’m terrified of losing it, too.”

His big hands gently cup my face. “You won’t. I need you too damn much.”

I give a watery smile and slide my fingers over the steel between his legs. “For this?”

“I need you just to fucking breathe, Lily,” he says.

“Look at you.” I laugh up at him. “The big deadly warlord, saying poetic bullshit like that.”

“It’s fucking true.” He grips my ass and lifts me. Carrying me again, but not sweeping me up off my feet this time. Just easing down to the sofa and settling me over him. Tenderly, his hands slide up over the fading bruises on my ribs. My tits are too small to fill his palms, but they look so right nestled in his hands. “I don’t need you to make me laugh, Lily, but laughing’s better with you. I don’t need you for sex, but it’s a hell of a lot better with you. Everything’s better. Coming home used to be nothing. But coming here, where I know you’ll be? That’s everything.”

For me, too. I melt against him, linking my arms around his shoulders.

But he’s not done. Clenching his fist to his chest, he says hoarsely, “And when you’re not with me, or when I think of losing you, it aches so fucking bad. Like someone ripped out my lungs. Like there’s no goddamn air. So, yeah, Lily. I need you to breathe.”

“Jack,” I whisper through a throat gone tight, then take his next breath with a kiss.

And he’s right. So damn right. It’s all so much better. A meeting of mouth, lips. It’s just a kiss. Except with Jack. With him it’s a promise wrapped up in hunger that deepens with every taste.

I can’t get enough. Every touch like fire, his mouth latching onto my breast and sucking my nipple to a throbbing burn. Heat searing the fingertips that slide through damp furnace of my pussy and roughly stoke the flames, until I’m panting against him, reaching for his hot iron length.

With his big hands on my hips, he guides me as I slowly fill myself with his long, thick cock. God, and that’s
so
much better.

And slower. We’ve never gone this slow, sitting up together, my thighs spread over his hips, my arms wrapped around his neck—and our mouths so close, breathing each other’s breath. It’s usually almost like a fight between us, a wild fuck, like it’s our first or our last, and we’re both afraid we won’t have this again.

But we will. Because I’ll fucking burn the world down for it. Anything tries to take him away from me, I’ll destroy it. Starting with his fear and my fear. I’m going to tear them apart.

“I love you,” I say and see the way the words hit him, see all the yearning and need that ripple in its wake. I’m going to pound him with this every damn day. I grip his hair, hold him right where I want him, with his mouth against mine and his cock deep inside me. There’s no hiding here. “I love you, Jack fucking Hayden.”

“Lily,” he rasps my name and when he kisses me I know that’s not just lips, either. It’s love in the silent, hot stroke of his tongue. It’s love when he holds me still and pushes deeper, harder, harder, until I’m so hot and wet and my pussy’s clinging to him so hard that I can’t stop riding him, can’t stop feeding the ache that hurts so much and feels so damn good. And even when I come, stiffening against him, my teeth digging into his shoulder and my cunt holding him tight, I still can’t stop needing him, loving him.

This is still fucking. But it’s also so much better.

• • •

Jack

Later, in bed, Lily says quietly, “It’s all right, you know.”

It’s dark. I can’t see her, just feel her lying on her back next to me. She isn’t sleeping on her side while her ribs are still healing, and I miss the way she curls up against me.

“What is?”

“Protecting me like this,” she says.

My chest tightens up again. “Like how?”

“From shit I can’t see coming.” The sheets rustle as she pushes up to sit against the pillows. “I told you not to be my shield. But I wasn’t thinking of the Hangmen or anything like them when I said it. I was thinking of the shit I deal with every day. The stupid things some of the brothers say. Or what happened with Sasha a few weeks ago, and the fight with Croc. I don’t want you stepping in to handle stuff I can handle on my own. But if it’s bigger than what I can handle? That’s different. If I’m in over my head, I won’t get pissed off at you for jumping in. Or for stopping something big before it gets to me.”

I come up on my elbow, finding her hand and sliding my fingers through hers. “I’ll give you a heads-up if I plan to.”

“If you can. I know there’s club business you can’t talk about.”

“Sometimes.” Because the fewer who know, the safer it is all around.

“Then just say you can’t tell me. I won’t get pissy about it.” She brings the back of my hand to her lips, and I hear her smile as she says, “I would like to know the Peru story, though.”

“It’s mostly bullshit.” Because I use the stories as a way of having her back without tearing her down; but just like club business, it’s best if details never get out. So I change them, to make sure nothing I ever did for the government gets traced back to me or to the Riders. Peru wasn’t even Peru. It was Venezuela. And this story came up after I heard some talk floating around the club, saying that it was fine if Riders like licking pussy, but no patchholders should be sucking dick.

“I like bullshit.”

“I’ve noticed.” I have to hold back a groan when she bites my finger in retaliation. Her teeth, my skin. Instantly I’m hard as a stone. “It’s just the same old story. Petty arms dealer needs to be taken out, but he’s careful and no one can get to him. But my bosses find out he has an arrangement where he flies out of his own city, buys out the floor of a hotel, and brings in some hired skin to fuck him. That hired skin usually fit my description.”

“If I was going to pay, I’d make sure he looked like you, too,” Lily says.

Shit. Grinning, I pull her under me, careful to keep my weight up off her chest. “You want to hear this story?”

She wriggles beneath me until the head of my cock lodges up against her pussy. Already so fucking wet.

Then she stills, and says, “Yes,” and for a second I can’t remember what the hell I was saying.

Peru. The bullshit version. Fuck me. I need to make it quick.

“So they send me in. Make all the arrangements, leave weapons in the hotel room. But what they didn’t know is that he’s a paranoid fuck, so he keeps a guard in the room while it’s going on.”