Page 53 of Miguel

Miguel,Iwasfindingin the small amount of time I’d been here, was very obvious with his affection. Not only towards me, but towards Zeke as well. While the two didn’t communicate with one another, hardly with words or signs, they spoke with their gazes. Like father like son, I figured. But Miguel would often slide his hand through Zeke’s curls. The gesture was loving, and something I wouldn’t have expected from a big, tattooed biker. Yet whenever he did it, something inside me warmed. Maybe it was the expression on his face as he did it, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as they fell on his son, protective and loving.

There was something about a man looking at his son with that kind of devotion that made my insides turn to mush.

But when that attention turned towards me, I felt something else entirely; a nervousness that blossomed deep in the pit of my gut and spread throughout my entire system. It made my insides cramp and Iwanted, with an ache.

It was an ache that frightened me with its intensity.

I didn’t know anything about this man, and yet I was in his compound, letting him kiss me in front of his friends, his son. And he called me his ‘Vieja’ like it was a sure thing. Like he all but had me. And the thing was, he did. His claws had sunken so deep inside my chest, that when he’d called me his old lady, an old form of endearment towards wives, I hadn’t fought it. I’d played dumb, sure, changed the subject, but pleasure had bloomed in my heart at the words.

Because they felt like they’d belonged.

But they didn’t.

Because I wasn’t his. He wasn’t mine. We weren’t a couple. And the longer I stewed about it, the more right it all felt, which made it all too wrong. Because of the danger he presented, the danger that followed him because of his profession. Because, my own ambitions with work aside, I wanted a family. Miguel’s lifestyle was vastly different from mine. They lived fast, dangerous, and vulgar.

I didn’t fit in at all.

The urge to flee gripped me hard. It was so sudden that my eyes went to Desi’s amongst the sea of faces and I signed with urgency, “Let’s go home?”

Something like relief swept through her gaze. I was swamped with immediate guilt. I had been a lousy friend to her. I was so wrapped up in my own stuff, I hadn’t taken into consideration her own discomfort. Her own wants and needs. Shame washed over me.

“Pack up,” I signed. “I think it’s time we went home.”

Miguel pulled my attention back to him by placing a scorching palm against my hip. Desi and I had been teaching him, Zeke, and several of the club brothers how to sign basic words. I’d been surprised that they’d all paid rapt attention in an effort to learn and communicate with Zeke and Desi. None were more dedicated than Miguel and Mayan, though.

If I’d ever doubted his dedication to Zeke, it vanished the more I watched them interact in a familial setting.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to stay. Not when the risks were so great. To my life but more importantly, to my heart.

“What’s on your mind, nena?” His lips skimmed the shell of my ear.

I tensed at the touch, trying to mentally construct walls to keep him out. I pulled away a fraction, putting distance between us. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have in the middle of his clubhouse, surrounded by all his club brothers where they could possibly overhear us.

“A lot of things.” I cast a cautious glance around. “Can we talk in private?”

His expression stuttered, looking slightly uncertain before a mask fell over his face. He stood up and I followed him, walking the stairs and hallways that would lead to his bedroom. It felt like walking through a dangerous, dark tunnel. I wasn’t sure why the eerie feeling of foreboding slid down my spine as I followed behind him. It lingered even when we were enclosed in the privacy of his space.

“Miguel, I want to go home.” I could feel my voice wavering as I said the words. The truth was, I was frightened to whisper that truth. Not because I thought he’d do something to me for them. No, I felt safe with him. I was afraid of hurting him. Afraid of what he made me feel. Afraid that with a few words, he would convince me to stay, when I couldn’t.

“Home,” he echoed, though that mask was placed carefully over his voice, as careful as his expression.

I fought not to fidget. “I know it’s only been a day, but it’s painfully clear that I don’t belong here. Desi and I are out of place. We have to get back to our lives.” I took a breath, but he didn’t say anything so I pushed on. “I am so thankful for everything you’ve done–you and your club–and I’m sorry for what I did last night, but I don’t think we can share anything beyond what we’ve already done.” I pointed between us. “Whatever this is has to end here.”

I wasn’t sure what type of reaction I expected. Anger. Sadness. Protest.

He displayed none of that and said nothing.

Instead, he stalked towards me in quick movements that startled me backwards. My back hit the wall in my retreat, and suddenly, he was in my space, crowding against me, placing his hands against the wall on either side of my head. Caging me in.

My breath caught as he leaned down. An electric current surged in the centimeters that separated us. His eyes flared with something dark, primal, and the mere sight of it sent a rush of heat down to my core. There was an emptiness between my legs, a craving to be filled. For pressure.

All because of that gaze.

“You want to go home,” he repeated. “You want to leave me.” If his voice held any pain, I couldn’t make it out.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I couldn’t be sure if my body angled towards his, or if his pressed tighter against mine. I just knew the moment we connected, the moment his heat enveloped me, all the firmness of his body tight against mine.

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