Page 83 of Wife Number One

“Fuck,” I swore, pushing to my feet and staggering to the bathroom. I’d nearly fucking sunk my dick into her. If she hadn’t said my name, snapping me out of the exhausted fog I’d been feeling her up in, I would have.

I turned the shower on hard, blasting cold water over the tiles, and then stepped beneath them, praying it would shrivel my erection.

It didn’t. The fucker still throbbed.

For Kara.

For the little church mouse who’d watched me jack off. Who’d slept in my bed all fucking night when I never let women do that. And who I’d damn near raped because she was too scared of me to wake me up and tell me to go to hell.

My erection died. Vomit rose in my throat, and I was forced to open my mouth and swallow gulps of water to wash it down.

I’d never cared that everyone thought I was an asshole. I could play that part, and I could play it well.

I was a smart-ass, I knew that. I rubbed people the wrong way and didn’t give a shit about the consequences.

Rebel had a whole damn laundry list of names she liked to call me, and not one of them bothered me, because I knew nothing I’d ever done was truly that bad.

Until today.

Today I’d come so close to taking something from Kara that I couldn’t have ever given back.

That made me the biggest piece of shit in the world.

Chilled to the bone more with my actions than because of the water, I shut it off. I found a towel and rubbed it roughly over my body and the spikes of my closely cropped hair, rubbing hardest at my dick until it fucking hurt.

The compound was starting to come to life outside my door, and I put on jeans and a hoodie and a pair of work boots. From the back of the bathroom cupboard, I found a caddy of cleaning supplies.

Prospects got the grunt jobs, like unblocking toilets, laundry, and scrubbing kitchens. We threw all the shittiest jobs at them, to see which ones just shut up and got the job done and which ones bitched and moaned and went home crying to their mommies, the MC life clearly not for them.

That hadn’t been any different for me and War, just because we’d been the club founders’ kids.

It had been a long time since I’d been a prospect, and I hadn’t missed it one bit. All the shutting up and just doing as I was fucking told had never suited me well.

But now I pulled together everything I needed and yanked open my bedroom door.

Kara sat at the bar, a bowl of cereal in front of her.

My gaze slammed into hers, and every memory of what I’d done to her came rushing back, every single one coated in regret.

I’d never been one for apologizing. Wasn’t sure I could ever even remember saying the words “I’m sorry.”

But they almost fell from my lips in that second. Because I’d never been sorrier for something in my life than I was for what I’d done to Kara that morning.

Ice pulled his headphones from his ears and shook a cereal box at me. “You want some? I’ll get another bowl.”

I drew my gaze away from Kara reluctantly. At least she’d come back. Even if she couldn’t look at me, at least she wasn’t blindly running through the woods. She would have hit the fence line eventually. She’d have had no chance of getting through it or over it in her long skirt and with no shoes on, but I was still glad she wasn’t out there. I liked knowing she was here, even if I wasn’t staying. “No. I’m going down to War’s old cabin to fix it up.”

Ice frowned and put the cereal box down. “The other prospects and I are going down there once they’re all awake. Just give us a day to get it done.”

I shook my head, still remembering Kara shivering on that fucking couch because I couldn’t even trust the prospects to do something as simple as get her a blanket. I’d told them to clean out that cabin weeks ago and they’d ignored me. Ice acting like I was the one being unreasonable pissed me off. “You had your chance to do it and you chose not to. Get ’em to do something else. Clearly, if I want something done, I have to do it myself.”

“You sure?” Ice asked, suitably guilty for not doing his damn job. “It was pretty filthy last time I was down there. How long’s it been since you did any cleaning? The kitchen and bathroom probably both need to be really scrubbed. No one has lived down there for ages.”

I glared at him, my earlier irritation growing at him insinuating I wasn’t capable of basic tasks. Kara was sitting right there, listening to the entire fucking thing. The last thing I wanted was her thinking I was useless. “This is why you’re still a prospect, even though you’ve been hanging around here for years. Learn when to shut up. I know how to clean.”

Ratchet wandered over, his hair a wild mess from sleep. “What was that? Hawk is cleaning?” He sniggered as he reached for a spoon. “I’m so coming down later to get video of you scrubbing that toilet.”

I flipped him the bird, took one last peek at Kara who was steadfastly ignoring me, and hoped the toilet was the filthiest one I’d ever seen.

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