Page 12 of Sparrow

How did this get out of the memory box? What the hell was she thinking?

“I’m going to make it official tonight,” Pipes said from behind her with affection in his tone.

He had startled her, causing her to jump. She stashed the photo and turned with socks in her hand. She didn’t realize he’d left the bathroom and was closer than he’d been before. Far too close for her to be gazing longingly at a photo of the guy she’d fucked in the parking lot of the clubhouse two years ago.

“What?” Guilt twisted in her gut. She had no business thinking about anyone else. No one else was going to cement her connection to her father’s club.

Shirtless and cut-less, he leaned in the doorframe, lustfully watching her. He’d once been quite muscular, but the drug use had stolen some pounds from him. Now a leaner version of the man he’d once been, he pinched at his nose a few times. When he sauntered into their bedroom, he planted his hands on her hips again. Resting hers on his tattooed pecs, she looked up, taking in his features.

“You’re going to be my Ol’ Lady tonight. I’m going to claim you,” he whispered before dipping his head down to take another kiss from her.

Official? Claim. Ol’ Lady. She knew the words. She knew they made sense when put together in that context. However, her brain just didn’t seem to want to process them. She couldn’t. He’d effectively short-circuited her. She couldn’t even kiss him back.

Limp, motionless, and paralyzed by everything she thought she wanted finally coming through, Sparrow wanted nothing more than to escape. Every fiber in her being told her to leave and not stop running once she did.

Pulling back from the kiss only he participated in, Pipes curled his finger under her chin, and pressed his thumb under her bottom lip. The smile on his face spoke of pride. “I don’t think I’ve ever stunned you into silence before.” He laughed. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Uh,” was all she could manage, which earned her another chuckle and a pat on the ass before he retreated to take a shower.

Call it buyer’s remorse. Call it fear of commitment. She didn’t give a shit what anyone called it, but at that moment she regretted everything.

Was she really ready to be Pipes’ Ol’ Lady? Did she truly want that?

Chapter 7

Romeo

Romeo’s father’s words weighed heavily on him as he did the final stitch and knotted the thread securing his Enforcer patch onto this cut. Shinedown’s version ofSimple Manplayed as he looked up, surveying the party going on in front of him.

Be a better man. What the hell did that even mean?

He’d taken up residence on one of the couches in the corner, out of the way, and used the light from his cellphone to sew the patch on his leathers. He shrugged into his vest and sat back, observing his club brothers mingling among the hang-arounds, prospects, and club sluts, enjoying their hospitality.

I know you want more than what is out there.

Smiling faces, a steady thrum of conversation, laughter, friendly touching—very friendly, and a vibe of safety and calm. The stability of his club was a stark contrast to the high energy and uncertainty he’d experienced in Ohio.

Yet the hole he’d felt, and been trying to fill with Molly and other club sluts since he got back to Montana didn’t exist when he was in Ohio. Running his fingers through the length of his dark beard, he stared out at the people, not seeing faces, only lost in his own thoughts.

His hand slipped into the inside pocket of his cut, allowing his thumb to run along the purple satin he kept in there. Gross? Probably. Then again, he never claimed not to be. It could be a lot worse, he could be doing other things with it.

He’d kept them with the last letter he’d gotten from her. While he never thought of himself as sentimental or sappy like that, for some reason, when it came to Sparrow, he did things differently. He wanted to be different. He wanted to…be a better man.

Well, fuck him sideways.

His head fell forward. Raking his fingers through the length of full, thick brown hair, his mind swam with what the hell that even meant.

A better man.

He was an asshole—a motherfucker—an outlaw biker. He wasn’t a good person—a criminal, with a record to prove it. Better wasn’t exactly in the cards for him. It wasn’t like walking on the straight and narrow was an option for him.

Sparrow wouldn’t want or expect that. She didn’t need that. He knew that on a deeper level. So what was with all this better fucking man shit?

“Rohhh-meee-ohhhh,” she slurred as she sang his name.

He looked up out of habit but wasn’t in the mood to have anyone interrupt him.

Topless Molly, brassy pigtails and a plaid schoolgirl skirt held hands with her equally topless friend. She had a wide grin on her face as she batted her false eyelashes at him. “Jen and I were loooooooking for you.” She led her friend toward him. One on either side of him, the pair sank into the couch before they pressed their bodies against him. Molly ran her long acrylic nails up his chest while her friend played with his hair.

---