Page 28 of Wild Night (Vicious Reapers MC #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IVY
I give Shocker explicit instructions to text me when they’re an hour from home and to bring her to my house, not the clubhouse or to Dakota. I need to lay eyes on her, to speak to her before she’s surrounded by the whole fucking club because I already know that shit is going to be pure chaos.
Selfishly, I need to know that she’s okay, or maybe I just want to make sure she knows she’s mine. I think after this ordeal, I may need to stake a claim—a real one. Seeing her in the flesh is my first priority.
I pace.
Back and forth.
It seems I’m getting really fucking good at pacing these days, too damn good. I pride myself on being the best at everything I do, but this is one thing I don’t give a damn if I’m good at or not.
My phone doesn’t ring as quickly as I would like it to. In fact, it doesn’t ring at all. One hour passes, then another. I’m not sure when exactly they’re supposed to be here, but I thought that Shocker told me they were close.
When my phone finally begins buzzing in my hand, I almost drop the damn thing. Letting out a sigh of relief, I slide my thumb across the screen before I lift it to my ear. “Ivy,” I grind out.
I’m sure I sound pissed off, but I’m not. I’m trying to hide my tension, my nervousness, and ultimately, my excitement.
“Got your girl. Mav is twenty minutes from your place.”
Thanking him, I end the call. It’s abrupt, I know it is, but right now, I’m trying not to fucking panic. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks. She went back to deal with that fucker. I don’t know what state she’s in, but I do know that Lucian Whitmore needs to die.
I don’t even know what he did to her, but the fact that he thought he was going to use her as a bargaining chip with the winery is enough for me to know that he fucked around and found out.
And fucking around with Posey? Not okay. The fact that I wasn’t there to deal with him, to deal with the situation, makes me sick to my stomach. I should have been there. It should have been me. He should never have had the chance to talk to her, let alone touch her.
I hate myself for it.
Down to my fucking marrow, I hate myself.
I let work trump family. I’m surprised Bullet hasn’t called me out on that. I’m surprised he didn’t pistol-whip me for it. He should have, and once he finds out what happened, depending on the circumstances, he might just do that.
So now, in twenty minutes, I’m going to find out what fucking happened to my woman, and I’m going to have to tell her that she is indeed my woman and can never leave Thunder Rock, North Carolina, ever again.
She’s mine.
Claimed .
Never letting her fucking go, either. Not now, not in a year, not in a goddamn lifetime.
Posey is mine, and I’m going to keep her.
There is the sound of a pickup truck outside, followed by a couple of motorcycles. I don’t even have to strain to hear them. They’re loud and they’re Reapers. Turning my head, I stare at the front door, expecting it to fly open.
It doesn’t.
Instead, what feels like hours later but is probably only a few moments, the doorbell rings. I’m not taken off guard. I know who is there, even if I do jump at the sound. My feet move, my hand reaches out, and I open the door, all without thinking about anything I do.
She’s there.
Standing in my doorway, her eyes wide, three bikers standing behind her like guards. Instead of completely fucking falling apart in front of my brothers, I shift my gaze from her wide one and find Shocker’s. Always the constant of our club, he jerks his chin toward me.
“See you at the club later,” he announces.
And then the three of them spin on their heels almost simultaneously and walk away.
Once they’re out of earshot, I dip my chin and shift my gaze from their backs to meet Posey’s.
I’m not sure how to read the expression on her face.
She’s watching me, standing completely motionless.
As we stare at one another, somehow, the ease and comfort we felt weeks ago are stunted.
“Princess,” I murmur.
Except she isn’t dressed like my princess. She’s wearing a pair of leggings, an off-the-shoulder oversized T-shirt, no makeup, and her hair is up in a messy bun. As much as I love her princess armor, this is even better.
“Ivy,” she breathes, taking a step toward me.
I make a decision on the fly. “Justin,” I state. “Call me Justin.”
Her eyes widen, and I watch as her lips twitch into a small smile. “Justin?” she asks.
“You know that’s my name. Unlike some of the other guys, I can’t hide that fact.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I know.”
Holy fuck, I want to take her right now and bang her against the door. Hell, I’d do it in the front yard if I thought my neighbors would be cool about it. They wouldn’t be. They barely tolerate my bike. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
“Then Justin,” she breathes.
“Come inside, Posey. I think we have some things to discuss.”
It’s at that moment that her eyes widen and her lips part, almost as if she’s surprised. I’m not sure if she thought we would be having a serious discussion with her standing on my porch or not, but clearly, she didn’t think I would invite her inside because she’s just staring at me.
Then she clears her throat and mumbles something odd. “Boy, don’t we.”
I’m not sure what the fuck that means, but I guess I’m about to find out. She begins to walk past me, dragging her bag behind her. But as she reaches me, I take the bag from her hand and place it just inside, beside the front door. Then I close the door behind her and flip the dead bolt into place.
POSEY
Stopping in the living room, I look around the house.
I wasn’t expecting to be dropped off at Ivy…
I mean Justin’s house when we entered the town limits.
I was actually expecting their clubhouse, maybe Dakota’s place.
I don’t know how big her home is or if there would even be room for me.
All I know is that it’s on some beautiful property with a few outbuildings.
What I didn’t expect was to be standing in Justin’s gorgeous home. It’s traditional, inviting, and cozy. I don’t know how else to describe it, and I have a hard time believing that he decorated it himself, but maybe he did. What the hell do I know?
I didn’t even picture him owning a home. I thought maybe an apartment, possibly just at the clubhouse. It was definitely not something I thought about. I was too busy coming to ask many personal questions. The evidence of that is now in my belly.
Walking over to the sofa, I think about sitting down but decide against it. Instead, I shift my direction and make my way toward a large window panel. I don’t know what it looks out over, because it’s pitch black.
“No backyard neighbors?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer immediately. I hear him inhale a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He hums before he actually speaks.
“Not yet. I’m sure there will be one day. It’s all woods.”
I expect him to move closer to me, or maybe I just want him to. It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s felt like a lifetime since he touched me—since he kissed me. I want his lips on my body, anywhere on my body. Though I would probably combust, so that would be bad. I need to stay uncombusted.
Turning around, I pinch my eyes closed as I tilt my head back and open them slowly. His focus is solely on me and only me. Exhaling a breath, I watch him for a moment in silence before I speak.
He’s beautiful.
I thought I remembered how gorgeous he was, how he made me feel, all of that.
But I didn’t, not accurately. Justin is wearing a shirt.
He was obviously at the office today. His white shirt is buttoned up, but the sleeves are rolled and pushed up his forearms. I can only see a few of his tattoos peeking out. It’s sexy as fuck.
“I don’t know where to start,” I begin.
He tilts his head to the side. I watch as his tongue slips out and glides along his bottom lip. “How about from the beginning, princess. I’m pretty sure some shit was left out, and you discovered some more.”
“I did,” I say, nodding my head a few times. “And I have discovered things, lots of things.”
His gaze searches mine, though he doesn’t push me to continue. He’s letting me do this on my own time, and I appreciate it, but I probably need the push, because right now, I’m panicking and ready to turn around and run.
Just when I flick my gaze to the side and eyeball the door handle to the backyard, Justin advances on me. He lifts his arms and places his palms against the glass window, effectively caging me in, then he dips his chin, and I feel his mouth on mine.
He kisses me.
My eyelids slide closed, and I accept his mouth, then his tongue. Every fear, every sense of panic and dread, they all melt away. He’s touching me. His mouth is on me, his body is touching mine, and I want to be absorbed into this man. If it were possible, I would beg for it to happen.
He owns me.