Page 117 of Tied to You
“Both.”
Dean turns on his heels. “I don’t know much about women, mate. Can’t say I ever will. If you think you can sort things with her, then go. I’ll call Elvis, get an update on the coke. But,” I catch his hollowed gaze, double taking when I see the darkness behind his eyes, “whatever happens with her, I’m going to need you, should we have to retaliate.”
Pressing my lips together, I maintain eye contact as I make sure I’m hearing him right. “You mean eradicate them?”
His reply is instant. Rehearsed. “They wiped the south off the map and never paid for that. The way Rocco handled it,” he shakes his head, zoning out momentarily, “I won’t rest until I’m either dead, or we’ve won.”
“I get it.”
“We’ve got rebuilding to do, that’s obviously going to take time. First, we need to stop them dealing. With Elvis pushing for King, we’re strengthening our pipelines. We’ve almost taken all of Nathan’s distributors and buyers as our own. We see this out, we can start to take some fucking control.”
I nod, liking the sound of that plan. I take another drag of my smoke feeling another weight being reapplied. “What work have we got lined up?” He knows I mean with our business.
“Nothing taxing. Haven’t booked much in since finishing yours.”
Rubbing my eyes, I flick the rest of the cigarette to the ground. “Give me tonight. I’ll catch up with you in the morning. Just keep me in the loop about the coke.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, pulling him into a quick embrace. I slap his back. “Wish me luck.”
He laughs. “Good luck, brother. You’re going to need it.”
I smile as I pull away, but it drops as soon as I see his face. He looks tense before he’s turning, giving me his back.
“How do you mean?”
He throws a hand above his head, signalling his goodbye.
“What the fuck do you mean? What did she… Dean?”
Motherfucker.
Shaking my head, I make my way to my bike, checking my location app before heading off. I see Mollie heading in the direction of the farm. At least she’s heading home. She’s a smart woman. She has work in the morning. After everything that happened today, she’ll be wanting a decent sleep before she has to get up.
My need to suddenly have her in my arms and know that she still needs me becomes desperate. Like the beating of a drum, my heart bangs in my chest, indicating what I fucking need to do, which is get to her.
Racing haphazardly back to the farm, I pull up outside our place not too far behind her. I watch the door close, and I run along the path following her inside. I’m expecting a fight. Some sort of showdown.
But there’s nothing.
No argument. No waiting for me by the door. No punch. No hit to the face. I know she’s pissed. The way she left without saying a word… it’s clear the thought of me having a baby with another woman has crushed her. But as I watch her drop her keys in the dish then begin peeling off her clothes as she walks to the bathroom, I’m not sure what I should do.
I follow cautiously behind her, watching her body sway as she drops my shirt, followed by her t-shirt to the floor. Her hands then unbutton her jeans, and once she’s made it to the sink, she steadies herself, peeling them off her long legs in one fluid motion.
Beautiful.
Her peachy, toned arse looks plush and round. The lace she’s wearing, utterly, jaw-droppingly hot. My greedy eyes absorb every movement as she removes her bra, dragging the straps down her arms and dropping it to the floor. She removes her knickers, discarding some tissue in the toilet, and it’s then I spot the blood from earlier still on her thighs. Turning on the shower, she elegantly walks in and begins washing her body, the soap foaming up evenly across her smooth skin.
She focuses on what she’s doing whilst I watch, unsure whether I should be joining her. My body wants to, but I get caught in a trance. Every pop of her hip, every time she arches her back washing herself, my eyes take it all in. She doesn’t even know Sophie’s baby isn’t mine, yet she’s here.
Her silence still unnerves me, but I mimic it, gazing when she steps out and dries herself. Her hair is still dry, her skin prickled with goosebumps. I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain that’s making her skin stand on end. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she removes what little makeup she has on before brushing her teeth. It’s only when she bends, giving me with a perfect view of her arse as she rinses her mouth, do I make my move. Stood behind her, she spits out the water then flits her gaze to me. Still no words. Still this deafening silence.
I don’t like it.
This isn’t our language. I know what she’s doing but it’s making me feel like a fucking arsehole.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Mollie straightens, her bum brushing my cock.
Still silent.
