Page 3 of Blood & Honey (Saint’s Outlaws MC: Deadman’s Beach, AL #2)

Chapter Two

Scrubbing a palm over my face, I put my feet on the cool wooden floor of my bedroom and stumble toward the bathroom, about to piss myself.

I drank too damn much last night. I can’t walk straight, let alone see straight.

I glance toward my bed through the open bathroom door, seeing a fuzzy vision of what appears to resemble tan legs and blonde hair peeking out of the covers.

Hope whoever she is, that she leaves soon.

Martina will be showing up with Ash and I don’t want a lecture about having strange women around him.

Like he’d remember. He’s only a year old.

What I do in my bedroom is no one’s business.

Especially not hers. I appreciate Martina helping me out, but she tries to mom me every chance she gets, treating me as if I’m not a grown man who is the president of an outlaw motorcycle club.

She’s not my mother, and I’m not Ash’s father.

He’s my baby brother by blood. On paper though, he’s mine.

Our father is dead and gone. Ash is my responsibility.

It’s not his fault that his mother, who also happens to be my ex, Shelby, is nothing but a no-good cunt who spreads her legs for anyone.

Of all the men she could’ve fucked, she picked my father.

I don’t want to think about the past or that fucking bitch.

The sound of my urine hitting the toilet bowl echoes throughout the quiet house. I need a goddamn cigarette and coffee. Sand grits against my skin in places it shouldn’t.

Fuck. I’m never drinking that much again. My temples pound as I give my dick an extra shake, wondering who in the hell I brought home with me last night. Whoever they are, they aren’t Felicity, thank fuck. Guess I managed to scrape her off.

I grab my dirty jeans from the floor and dig my soft pack of cigarettes from the front pocket, hoping they aren’t bent all to fuck and find the damn thing empty.

After digging a pair of shorts out of the laundry basket, I let my latest conquest sleep a little longer while I make some coffee.

Least I can do is make her a cup to go and order her a ride home before I hop in the shower.

Most chicks take some cream in their coffee.

I open the fridge, grab the milk, give it a sniff, and pour a shot into the disposable cup.

I go to open the fridge again and stop. I blink. Rubbing my eyes, I take another glance at the paper stuck to the fridge and the picture accompanying it.

The fuck?

I snatch the marriage certificate from under the magnet and place the half gallon of milk back in the fridge.

“What the fuck?” I grumble as I scan the information. “This has to be fake.” There ain’t no fucking way the name I’m reading can be right.

“I know I’m early,” Martina calls out, opening the front door.

I shove the note and the marriage certificate in a drawer and then hurry to close my bedroom door.

My stomach hits the floor as I catch a glimpse of the blond in my bed.

Ashley’s snuggling up to my pillow as the sunrays light up her sun-kissed skin like an angel.

A fallen angel who shouldn’t be in my bed.

Fuck me. This must be some sort of cruel joke.

Any minute now, the guys are going to pop out and yell, got ya for a stupid prank video or some stupid shit like that.

There’s no way I fucked, let alone married, Shelby’s little sister. The same sister I’ve been looking out for after that dirty bitch betrayed me and left me to pick up the jagged pieces of the hearts she broke and the lives she ruined.

“Coffee?” I hold the cup I just poured out to Goose’s mother as she secures my baby brother in his highchair.

“That’s thoughtful. Thank you. Maybe you could give my son some pointers on manners.” She smiles, and I do my best not to make the fact I’m herding her toward the door obvious.

“Thanks for keeping him.”

“I enjoy it, and you pay good. It’s not like Goose is going to give me any grandkids anytime soon. Is he seeing anyone?”

“You know Goose.”

“Right,” she mutters. “I’ll be back after I run some errands.”

“Take the day off. I need to spend some time with the little guy anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” I just need her gone so I can figure out what the fuck is happening.

“I’ll see you boys tomorrow morning then. Oh...” she stops short of leaving. “Did Ashley enjoy her prom?”

Her question has me wanting to vomit.

I’m going to prison.

Not really, but if I did what I think I did, then that is where I belong. I’ve always been a fucking criminal, but this…claiming an eighteen-year-old as my bride is a new level of fucked up. Even for me.

“I wouldn’t know.” I can’t remember a damn thing about last night or why Ashley is in my bed. Flashes of kissing Ashley on the beach penetrate my thoughts. Her bare shoulders. My lips were on her neck. I can smell her sweet scent as I inhale.

Fuck me.

Goddamn.

I shake my head, trying to make the memory disappear as quickly as it came on, wishing I could go back to forgetting.

“What better revenge on my sister for whatever it is she’s done than to be with me? To claim her sister… to make me yours. Take everything from her like she has you.”

“You’d really marry me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

The night before hits me like a punch to the gut. Martina shoots me a weird look, raising a brow as she finally leaves. The door closes, and Ash bangs his fists on his tray, wanting his breakfast.

I should have asked her to take him back with her.

What the fuck was I thinking? I’m not cut out to raise a kid. And now I’ve apparently fucked up beyond repair.

Ashley may be eighteen, but I was supposed to look after her, not fuck her. And I damn sure wasn’t supposed to marry her.

This is bad.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Fu,” Ash repeats and laughs.

He’s lucky he’s so damn cute.

“Hey little man. Bet you’re hungry.” I go through the motions of heating up his oatmeal and scrambling his eggs while wondering how in the fuck I’m fixing this mistake.

I snatch the shit I stuffed in the drawer back out, spreading the marriage certificate out on the counter like evidence.

I stare blankly at the picture of Ashley and me. She’s in her sparkly prom dress, dipped in my arms, mouths fused together. How the fuck did I allow this to happen?

Better yet, why didn’t anyone stop me?

This past year, I’ve resisted the passes she’d make at me. I knew she had a crush on me. She’s never been shy about her admiration of me.

Now I’ve taken advantage of her trust.

It doesn’t matter that we were drunk. I knew better, and I claimed her anyway.

The bedroom door creaks open, and Ashley stands in the open space, hair tousled and wavy. Her bright blue eyes sparkle as though they are dusted with glitter. She’s wearing a white strapless bra and a triangle-shaped scrap of lace that barely covers her pussy.

She looks good enough to eat, and I hate myself even more because at the mere sight of her my dick gets hard and practically tents my shorts, the more she stands here looking at me with those bedroom eyes.

I swallow hard and shake my head as though I’m trying to clear the filthy thoughts running rampant in my mind from my thoughts.

“Good morning,” she says between yawns.

There’s not a damn thing good about it besides her in her underwear. I’ve got to stop ogling her and get my head straight.

“Put some fucking clothes on,” I growl and return to pushing the eggs around the skillet with the spatula while adding some shredded cheddar cheese to them before they burn.

“Sure thing, hubby.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your husband.”

Her shoulders straighten. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“About that…” I plate the eggs. “We’ll talk once you’re dressed.”

“Fine,” she hisses, twisting around to give me a full view of her ass as she stomps to her room.

I scrub a palm over my face and wonder if Hash has an excellent lawyer on speed dial that can handle annulments. If this marriage is legal, I need to undo it as quickly as possible. Ashley can’t want this.

She deserves better than me.

She and Ash both do. And yet I want nothing more than to follow her to her room and fuck my new wife.