Page 57 of The First Cut
“Okay, but you’ll have to help me stand. I’m feeling very much like a beached whale right now.”
“You’re pregnant and beautiful.” I press my lips to her bump before climbing off the bed and shoving my still-wet cock back into my pants. If I’ve gotta deal with soccer mom out there again, I want to do it wearing my woman’s juices.
After my third trip to housekeeping for sheets, I end up robbing one of the carts of a half dozen sets. It turns out that having an old lady as sexy as mine makes it impossible to keep my dick in my pants. Not that I’m wearing any anymore. I’ve given up getting dressed and have convinced Lola to stay naked, too. She’s self-conscious about her ever-changing body, but I won’t lie—her swollen belly does not make me want her any less. If anything, it makes me want her more. Fuck, it makes me want to fill her up as soon as this kid is born, just so I can make it swell again.
“You have that look on your face again that makes my vagina feel like it should be warming up, only she’s feeling pretty battered from the last marathon.”
I laugh, lying back, tucking my hands behind my head. “Tell me something about you. Something nobody else knows.”
“Like what?” She tucks her hands under her cheek in a prayer position as she watches me, that guarded look back in her eyes.
“I don’t know anything.”
She blows out a deep breath, not saying anything for a moment. I wait her out.
“I never wanted to be an old lady.”
I tense, looking at her. “You know why it has to be this way?—”
She presses her finger to my lips. “Not with you. This is different. I meant back then, with Havoc. He was all about the Raven Souls. He wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps eventually, but after he’d lived a little first. We talked about things like college and traveling, and then his dad died. And all of a sudden, the MC was all he could think about. It was like he had something to prove.”
“You supported him, though,” I point out.
“Of course I did. I loved him. I thought that meant his happiness was more important than mine. But as time wore on and Havoc became larger than life, I faded into the background. My only role was as Havoc’s old lady. I was much younger than the other old ladies, so they had little to do with me. Hell, half the time I got lumped in with the bunnies.”
“What about Havoc? What did he do?”
“Nothing. He didn’t notice, and I didn’t want to lose him, so I kept my mouth shut. I ended up losing myself in the process.”
I think about what she’s saying. It would be so easy to tell her that people would've killed for her position in life, but I know that’s not fair. She was a young woman ready to experience life, and instead, she got trapped on the sidelines.
“I never wanted to be a dad.”
She lifts her head at my subject change, her fingers trailing over my collarbone as she waits for me to continue.
“I’m still not sure I should be one. I’m not normal. Something in my brain just isn’t wired right. Truth is, if there had been anyone else to take Millie, I’d have let them. Anyone would be a better choice than me, but life can be a fickle bitch sometimes. This is why I need you. Why Millie needs you. I’ve seen how protective of your son you are.” I slide my hand over her bump and grin when he wriggles under my touch. “I need someone to look after Millie the same way.”
“I can’t promise I won’t suck at it too. I don’t exactly have the best role model myself. But I’ll try, and at the end of the day, Hannibal, that’s all any of us can do.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lola
We were given the all-clear four days later. Not wanting to turn up while things were so emotionally charged, we moved from the first motel to one on the outskirts of town until Havoc arrived.
I checked in for us, knowing that Hannibal’s cut would've likely made the desk clerk turn us away—the animosity between the club and the town spilling out further, given the current circumstances. There's no getting around the fact that the club isn’t liked.
A bunch of young women going missing without a trace, the club showing zero interest in helping find them, when some of the girls were last seen heading for the compound made it easy for people to point fingers and lay blame at the club’s feet.
MCs skate the fine line of the law, often finding themselves in the crosshairs of investigations. But it was their reaction to this whole mess that turned the townsfolk against them. And they have no one to blame but themselves.
After tossing and turning half the night and convincing myself I’m not bothered about going home, I give up on sleepand slip out of bed, careful not to disturb Hannibal. I get cleaned up and dressed before pulling my hair up into a simple ponytail. I stare at my reflection, wishing I had some concealer to hide the bags under my eyes. With a snort, I think about all the times I had to put on makeup and swore, given the chance, I’d never wear it again. Look at me now. Knowing I’ll be facing the club later, I admit I feel somewhat exposed without it. I never thought of it as a mask before. Looking at myself now, stripped back to basics, I admit I was hiding more than bruises with it. It’s a crappy feeling realizing you’re not nearly as thick-skinned as you thought you were.
When Hannibal’s cell phone rings, I drop my head. Our time here is up. Nausea churns in my stomach as a sleepy Hannibal answers the call.
I don’t hear anything of the one-sided conversation until I step through the door and Hannibal looks over at me. “We’ll be there in an hour.” He hangs up before climbing out of bed.
Stark naked and hard as a rock, he stalks toward me, slipping his hand into my hair as he devours my mouth, not giving a single fuck about propriety or morning breath.
