Page 50 of Patch's Bride
Patch responds in a relieved voice, “Yeah, thank God she keeps a rescue inhaler with her at all times. If not, this whole situation might have had a very different outcome.”
I chime in, “My sister is smart and resourceful. I don’t know if I could have rationed that inhaler the way she did. It was hard to watch her struggling to breathe.”
We talk for a few minutes, and his club brothers take off.
“You think you’re up for a ride?” Patch asks.
“Always,” I reply.
I swing a leg over Patch’s bike and settle into place. Patch gets on in front and I wrap my arms around his waist. The engine roars to life, sounding louder than usual. When he glances back at me with a relieved smile, I instinctively tighten my hold around his waist.
We roll slowly out of the parking lot, but he picks up speed once we’re on the road and even more when we hit the highway. It’s the two of us enjoying the open road. I remember when riding on the back of his bike was nothing but a daydream, a secret wish that I never told anyone about. Yet, somehow, here we are, riding together like we were meant to. Everything feels so right with Patch.
I lay my cheek against his back and relax into the ride, letting all my anxiety finally slide away. I thought he would find us. But even when I told Lila he would, there was always a tiny doubt in the back of my mind. I now know that I shouldn’t have doubted him.
We take the road that leads to the clubhouse. When we walk in, it seems like every brother is there. Everyone is smiling, congratulating us and celebrating our little victory. We make nice, grab some drinks and go out and sit on the back roof because it’s both quiet and beautiful.
Patch searches my face, before speaking. “You’re truly safe now,” he says. “You know that, right? Smoke is gonna make sure those bastards wind up in prison for a nice long time. He’s given me his word.”
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “I’m sure he will. Thanks to you and your club, my sister and I don’t have to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. I can’t imagine what my life would have become if you hadn’t come for me.”
He kisses me and then rests his forehead against mine. This moment reminds me that our relationship is as real as it gets. When he kisses me again, it’s slow and sensual, just like I love best with him. Having him close and smelling the leather of his cut makes my heart sing with happiness.
When we break away, I’m breathless and happier than I can ever remember being. “I’m glad no one got hurt tonight,” I tell him. “Except Vincent and he deserved it.”
Patch’s expression immediately closes down. “You put yourself in danger when you left to save her. If you had trusted me instead of running off, we could have resolved this much sooner. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get past that.”
“I’m sorry, Patch. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. My stepfather told me that he would give her to Vincent if I didn’t come, but he swore he would take her back to the care home if I came and swapped places with her. He was acting all shady, and I didn’t know if I could trust him. Come to find out, I couldn’t. He double-crossed me and left us both there.”
“That’s fair enough, I suppose,” he says. “One day, you’re gonna realize that we’re stronger together than either of us could be separately.”
“How did you know where to find us?” I ask.
Patch gives a rueful smile, “Roxy. She came to us after dropping you off. Told us everything, how you’d spun her a line about having had your fill of the club and needing to get away. She thought something was off so decided to follow you.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise, I guess I misjudged her. “I’ll have to thank her when I next see her.”
We lay back on the roof and stare up at the moonlit sky as a gentle breeze washes over us. I decide this is what real freedom feels like.
Patch turns me around and kneads my tight shoulder muscles until they loosen. I let my head fall forward and close my eyes. By the time he’s finished, all I want is a cuddle and some sleep. Lying there against Patch’s big, warm body, sleep threatens to lull me to sleep on a rooftop. I wake up to Patch carrying me into an upstairs suite.
My dreams are filled with wild, chaotic nightmares. My stepfather’s face rises in my mind, and he’s screaming that I’m no good for betraying his trust and not staying with the man he chose for me. How he’s going to get even with me if it’s the last thing he does. And Lila will pay for my poor decisions.
When I jolt awake in a panic, Patch is there to hold me, rub my back, and tell me that everything is going to be okay. If not for him, I would probably be spiraling all night long.
The morning comes all too fast, but at least I wake up in bed with my hot biker. His mouth finds mine, hot and needy. I shamelessly wrap my legs around him and scratch his bare back with my nails, and we tangle tongues. Something about today is extra passionate. For whatever reason, we can’t seem to get enough of each other.
When his hand comes down to rip my panties off, I’m there for it. I help him pull off my clothing and watch with a greedy eye as he pulls off his clothes to reveal a mountain of muscles and fascinating tattoos. Suddenly, we’re all over each other, kissing, rubbing skin to skin, and his mouth moves from my neck down to my breasts.
When he finally plunges into my wet heat, it feels so good that I can’t help but cry out. He fills me up to the point that I can feel every single inch of him. Patch is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He’s smart, hardworking, kind, and afantasticlover.
He effortlessly tips me over into one of the strongest orgasms of my lifetime. To my surprise, he doesn’t stop. He keeps right on moving just the way I like, and I come all over his cock a second time. I never imagined that sex could be so visceral. With Patch it almost seems like a matter of pride that I come first and several times before he does.
Chapter 16
Beth
It’s been a couple of weeks since Patch and the Savage Legion rescued me and Lila from that creep’s sex dungeon. Vincent turned out to be a real asshat, but he certainly wasn’t the only one. My stepfather was worse than any of them. He’d betrayed my mother by trafficking her daughters when she was no longer around to protect us. I hate him. Come to think of it, any liking I had for Father Michael is long gone as well for writing that letter saying he was a good man. I know it’s water under the bridge, but it drives home the fact that a biker cared more about my well-being than my own religious leader. I don’t know how to feel about that.
