Page 44

I wake in rough sheets and rougher arms.

Legend’s chest is pressed against my back, one heavy arm slung over my waist like last time. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. For a second, I let myself enjoy it. The feel of his skin, the heat of him. The way he mutters low and sleepy against my neck.

But biology wins over fantasy.

I wiggle out of his grip, padded footsteps taking me toward the bathroom with the kind of soreness that makes me smirk. I’m barely inside, flicking on the overhead light. Kicking my foot, I shove the pile of clothes across the floor, making my way in.

That’s when I see them.

Pink. Lacy. Definitely not mine.

Panties.

Just lying there on the tiled floor like some goddamn neon reminder of everything I’ve been trying not to think about.

Becki.

I pick them up with two fingers like they’re toxic, storming back into the bedroom. "You’ve got about two seconds to explain these before I burn your whole clubhouse to the fucking ground."

Legend jerks awake, eyes still foggy with sleep until he sees what I’m holding.

"Those ain’t…" he starts.

"Not mine? Yeah, no shit. I don't wear rhinestones on my ass." I throw them at his face.

They bounce off his chest and land on the bed between us like some sick joke.

"Sophie," he says, sitting up quick. "I haven’t been with anyone. Not since you. Not once."

I scoff. “Right. Becki already told me you were.”

“That was a mistake and before we had sex.”

“But after that night on the porch. I left you a blanket, and you went home to her.”

“I was trying not to get attached, and get you killed. I’ve not been with her since.”

“But those just magically appeared in the bathroom?”

I’m barely holding it together.

He runs a hand through his hair, looking guilty to me. “Becki left 'em. She’s been pokin’ around, tryin’ to get me riled up. Tryin’ to get a reaction. There’s been none.”

“Well, congrats,” I snap. “She got one, now.”

“I didn’t touch her. I swear.”

“Don’t have to. She clearly thinks she’s still got a shot. Must’ve felt real at home waltzing into your bedroom to leave them.”

“I’ve not been with anyone since you.”

Crossing my arms, I don’t know if I can believe him. That’s the worst part.

I’m mad. Mad at him for letting her in here. Mad at him for fucking her while I thought we had something brewing. Mad at myself for letting my guard down, again. Mad because I knew this was a bad idea and did it anyway.

I grab my clothes and start dressing. “You broke my heart once already. Told me we were done. I didn’t expect you to wait around with your damn hand over your heart, but you could’ve kept your mess out of the room you brought me into.”

“Sophie,” he barks.

But I’m already in my boots, already out the door.

By the time I get home, the sun’s too bright and my temper’s too hot. I storm through the front door of the farmhouse, only to find James standing in the hallway like he’s been waiting.

Tapping his foot, he looks me up and down, clocking the wrinkled clothes and probably the love mark aching on my neck. Definitely the smell of leather, smoke and pure sin clinging to me. My nose wrinkles as I smell myself too.

“So,” he says, arms folded, voice dripping with judgment. “You gonna be a biker’s ol’ lady now?”

“What are you talking about?” I try.

“Your hair,” he exclaims, taking my shoulders and turning me around toward the big mirror. “Looks like you’ve been fucked by a tornado, sis.”

Damn, I’m a sight. My hairs a rat’s nest on meth, and has me looking like I’m fixin’ to join a B-52s’ cover band. Legend’s semen makes one hell of a hair gel.

And love bite doesn’t do it justice. There’s a hickey on my neck running to my chest that looks like it was put there by a giant.

James is aghast or at least pretending to be. “Comin’ into this house, freshly fucked by filth. Mama’s rollin’ in her grave.”

“Would that really be so different from you playing loyal lapdog to whichever hedge fund wants to gut this place next?” I shoot back, walking past him.

“You’re making a mistake,” he snaps.

“Good,” I fire over my shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to break the family tradition.”

“Jesus, Soph. The whole town already knows you went to that club showing your ass.”

My eyes narrow.

“Heard you got in a fight.”

“Yeah. I’d do it again,” I say, hoping that’s all he heard.

I’m not too sure about anything else. Under my aggravation at James’ twenty questions, I am still mad as hell at Legend. What’s worse, other emotions are creeping up fast. Jealousy and sorrow.

James interrupts my brief pity party. “Well, while you were off screwing an outlaw, Dad woke up.”

I stop cold.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, cruel and cold. “He opened his eyes early this morning. And you weren’t here. You were too busy being some biker’s property.”

I don’t even answer.

I run.

Up the stairs two at a time, slamming the door to my bedroom behind me and locking it. My breath saws in and out of my lungs like I just finished a cross-country race on foot.

Dad’s awake. I can’t let him see me like this. Stripping like my clothes are on fire, I jump in the shower.

I’m still that girl staring out the window, wishing I could run in both directions at once, toward Legend, toward the life I want, and toward the legacy I was born into.

But right now, I can’t think about pink, rhinestone panties. All I want is to see my dad.