Page 80 of Golden Atonement

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu when I found myself in the same predicament, just like the night she stumbled into the clubhouse all those years ago. In contrast to before, she wasn’t battered and bruised this time and she definitely didn’t rely on me for her rescue.

Now the roles were reversed and I found myself in a state of panic, not knowing what I would do if she couldn’t find it in her heart to forgive me.

The fact was I was barely holding on.

The demon inside me was restless, itching to reclaim what rightfully belonged to him. Nothing but her could sate the beast that dwelled deep in my soul, and until she was ready to forgive me, the demon inside me would rage.

“I can hear you breathing.”

“I’m sorry.”

She opened her eyes and glared at me. “No, you’re not. What do you want?”

“You already know that answer.”

She sighed, sitting up. “I’m not ready.”

“I know,” I replied, never taking my eyes off her.

“Is this going to be a nightly thing?”

“Until you forgive me.”

She groaned, reaching behind her to grab a pillow before she threw it at me. I intercepted it before it hit me in the face when she added, “Fine, but you are not sleeping in this bed. Go sleep on the couch.”

Smirking, I headed for the door when I heard her say, “And you can get that fucking stupid grin off your face. This doesn’t mean anything.”

Choosing to say nothing, I walked out of our bedroom and smiled, knowing I was one step closer to being back in that bed next to her.

Chapter Two

Reaper

“It’s mine!”

Groaning, I grabbed my pillow and covered my head.

I’d been on this damn couch for over a fucking week now and not one fucking morning had I woken up to silence.

Oh, fuck that.

Apparently, every fucking kid living at the compound gravitated over to my damn house first thing in the morning, followed closely by their mothers, then eventually their husbands. Even my fucking single brothers found themselves sitting at my motherfucking kitchen table gabbing like clucking hens while my wife fucking fed, laughed, and joked around with them.

Fucking traitors.

“Give it back, Jesse. Now.”

“But, Mom!”

Growling, I threw my pillow on the floor. Sitting up, I placed my bare feet on the cold hardwood floor and rested my head in my hands. My poor fucking back couldn’t take much more of this uncomfortable couch. As soon as my ass was back in my bed, I was burning this bitch to ashes.

Before I could utter a fucking word, my son screeched, “DAD!”

Looking up, I saw Sandman holding my son damn near six feet off the ground while he growled at the brat.

“Not yours.”

Jesse gulped and said nothing.

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