Page 148 of Kneeling to Candy

“And me finding this out for myself is better?”

Dropping to his knees, Butch clings to my hips. “No, it’s worse. I told you I wanted to talk to you when we got back home. I planned on coming clean, informing you we got married in a drunken haze, that I proposed to you with a Ring Pop like it was a fucking joke. I hate how I took advantage of you at that moment.”

Drunken haze? Fucking joke? Sounds like he regrets our marriage alright.

It’s too much. Butch, not wanting to be my husband, is not something I can handle.

Prying Butch’s hands free of my body, I rush to the door.

Butch reaches for me, his voice hiccupping on the tears he lets freely fall. “Goddess?—”

“No, Butch. You stay here. Don’t follow me.”

Dropping his outstretched hands to his sides, he balls them into tight fists. His head lowers and shoulders shake with silent tears. Seeing him hurt, vulnerable, kneeling, and mostly naked, I want nothing more than to go to his side and comfort him.

Yet I can’t, not when I need to have a moment to regroup. I pull the door open and flee.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CANDY

Furious, I swing the door open. It bounces violently against the wall as I storm into the hall.

I need to get as far away from Butch as fast as I can, or so help me God, I may strangle the man. I have no wish to do jail time, nor do I want to hurt him.

My fist squeezes around the marriage certificate, the physical reminder of Butch’s betrayal. I didn’t mean to take it with me when I left our suite—his suite. It’s no longer a shared space between us. How can it be? The jerk is my husband and never told me. He has drawn a line between us.

I strain to hear if Butch is following and don’t hear running feet chasing me down. At least he’s behaving and following my order to stay put. Though, I’d really love to torture the hell out of him, denying him his orgasm for what he’s done. He would look so good, writhing on the bed as I bring him again and again to the edge of bliss.

Ugh! Stop thinking about sex with Butch! You caught him hiding valuable information about your relationship together.

Forcing my sexual craving aside, I head to my old suite I shared with Red. Normally, I would go to my hidden dark closet. Though, I don’t trust Butch not to come find me there. At least in my old room, I can lock him out.

Then again, Reaper took the stairs three at a time to get to Red when we arrived home. He engulfed her in a massive bear hug once he reached her on the landing before the two of them disappeared into what was once our shared suite.

There’s no way I’m going to interrupt their private time with my problems.

Eager to shut myself away, I break into a jog, running for the only safe space I know.

When I reach Ebony’s suite, I throw myself into the room. Tucked away in my friend’s private domain, I huff and puff. “ARG!”

“Oooo, this sounds fun,” Ebony says sarcastically from where she sits in her recliner reading an Easyriders magazine. The woman reads them like the bible, searching the pages like she’s looking for something specifically—maybe something pertaining to her old club.

Ebony tosses the magazine on the coffee table in front of her, giving her undivided attention. “Spill the tea.”

“Get ready. It’s piping hot.” I snarl, stomping over to the couch in her sitting area. I sink into the over-plush couch, unsure I enjoy the feeling of being swallowed whole.

Ebony’s entire suite is extra soft decor. It’s kind of like living in a cloud. I chalk it up to her early life, growing up in a one-percent MC. She added extra softness to her surroundings to compensate for the hard biker world she came from.

“Trouble in paradise?” Ebony muses aloud, waiting for me to dish the dirt.

But I’m too angry to get the words out without spitting venom. Instead, I hand her the crumpled marriage certificate.

Ebony’s brows pull together as she takes the license and reads it. At first she looks confused, but then her mouth drops open. Her brown eyes snap to mine in surprise.

“Holy shit! You’re married?”

“It’s news to me, too.”

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