Rake's Redemption (Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club) (13 page)

“You going to stare at me the whole ride?” he asks in a husky tone that has me shifting on my seat.

“If I want to,” I reply haughtily.

“I’ll make sure to return the favor when we get inside, then,” he says, sounding amused.

I look back out the window.

I’m hard.

I’ve been hard ever since she picked up the rope, rope that I’d love to use on her. I’d tie her arms behind her back and fuck her from behind while pulling her hair. Then I’d tie her arms above her head while I took her slow and deep.

I shift in my seat.

What an inconvenience this woman is turning out to be. It’s like craving something that I know is bad for me, wanting it so fuckin’ badly but having to consider the consequences of giving in.

The price is too high though; I’d rather keep my sanity, my peace of mind, and my heart intact.

“I like this song,” she murmurs, turning it louder.

“What is it?” I find myself asking. When I’m with her I find myself forgetting what happened between us. I don’t think about anything. I just enjoy her presence. When she first came back into my life, I had to keep reminding myself so I could stay angry and not let my guard down, but now I’ve stopped. There’s no point, and I know I’ve been an asshole to her, even though she deserved it. I could be the bigger person here and cut the girl a break. At least, I can try. When I don’t think about it, everything is fine. It’s only when the past resurfaces that everything goes to shit.

She fits in here, with the women, and even the men are starting to like her.

The thing is, at the end of the day, she’s still Bailey.

And no matter what she did, she’s wearing me down a little.

C
ARA
picks up a slice of pizza, not taking her eyes off Rake. “Are you living with us now?”

“Yes,” Rake replies gently, chewing and swallowing his own bite.

“Why?” she asks curiously, not taking her brown eyes off him.

Thinking Rake would want me to answer, I’m about to open my mouth when he cuts me off.

“Because I needed a place to stay, and your mom was kind enough to offer,” he says, flashing me an amused glance.

“My mom is very nice,” Cara says, nodding her head. “I’m happy you’re here, Adam.”

I wait for him to tell her not to call him that, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you, Cara,” he says, eyes softening. “You hang out with that boy a lot, don’t you?”

Cara’s face lights up. “Rhett? Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

Rake nods his head, looking contemplative. What’s going on in that mind of his?

“Can I get you a drink, Adam?” my daughter offers.

Rake turns his head to me then and chuckles. “I’d love that, Cara. Thank you.” Cara gets up and heads into the kitchen.

“Fuckin’ hell, Bailey,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?” I ask, wondering what I’m missing.

He closes the pizza box and turns his body to face me. “In high school. I remember one day we went out for dinner at a diner and these kids were being little shits. You turned to me and said that when you had kids, they were going to be well-mannered and polite, not bratty, spoiled, and ungrateful.”

I remember that day. I’d actually said I was going to make sure that
our
kids weren’t like that, but things obviously didn’t go according to plan.

“She’s a good kid,” I say. “Best thing to happen to me.”

“She’s amazing,” he says sincerely, watching her pour him some soda in the kitchen. “Reminds me of Clover a little bit, without the attitude. You’re a great mother, Bailey. Then again, I always knew you’d be.”

I try to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Th-thanks.”

“You never speak about her father.”

My eyes widen. “There isn’t much to tell. His name is Wade. When I told him I was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with her. I haven’t seen him since then, nor do I want to, but I think it’s for the best. I wasn’t in a good place then; I was destructive, and the men I chose at the time reflected that.”

His gaze hardens as he mutters, “All you have to do is give me his full name.”

And then what? He’d hurt him? I’m about to ask what exactly he’d do to him when Cara comes back to the table with two cups. She hands the first to me and the second to Rake.

“Thank you,” he tells her, taking a sip.

“You’re welcome,” she says, grinning. “I’ll go and pour mine now.”

She leaves us again and Rake and I share a look.

“You handled everything well today,” he murmurs, playing with his lip ring with his teeth.

“I was scared shitless,” I say softly. “I’m glad it seemed like I held it all together.”

“Whoever dared to touch you will pay, you know that, right?” he states, steel in his tone. “They fucked up when they decided to bring you into this.”

“I’m a little worried,” I decide to admit to him. “What if they come after Cara? I can’t put her in any danger.”

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you—you can trust me on that, okay? You don’t even need to worry; your daughter will always be protected.”

I nod, believing his words. The thing is, things don’t always turn out how you want them to and although I can hear the determination in his voice to keep us safe, he can’t really promise something like that when fate could have other plans.

“Mom, can we all watch a movie after this?” Cara asks, sitting down with her own pink cup. I look away from Rake and I notice soda stains on her white T-shirt, which means she definitely spilled while pouring, but I ignore them, knowing that she likes to be independent.

“It’s a school night,” I remind her. “Bath time and bed for you.”

She looks up at Rake then, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes.

Rake chuckles and touches her nose with his index finger. “I’m afraid your mom is the boss, Cara.”

Cara pouts. “Okay. Can I have a bubble bath?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s fine. Go and get undressed and I’ll come fill up the tub.”

She walks off as we both watch her.

“I’ll clean up,” Rake announces. “You sort the angel.”

“Angel?” I ask, raising a brow.

He shrugs and grins. “They call Clover Princess, and I think Angel is fitting for Cara.”

I shake my head and smile at him. “I think you might be right.”

“Look at us,” he says a little gruffly, glancing around the room before looking at me. “All getting along and shit.”

“I think if we stay in the present, we’ll get along fine,” I admit, getting up from my seat. “It’s when we bring up the past . . . I don’t think either of us wants to go back there. And both for different reasons.”

He looks away. “Yeah, I’ll just . . . clean up. Where am I sleeping?”

“I can sleep with Cara and you can have my bed,” I suggest. There are only two rooms with beds in the house—the third I’d turned into a playroom. “She has a queen bed in her room, so it’s fine.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” Rake says, looking offended. “The couch is fine for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, lifting my hand up. “Both the beds are queens; there’s no reason I can’t share with my daughter.”

Rake stands up and pushes his chair in. “Where are your blankets? I’ll set up the couch.”

I throw my hands in the air. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Pretty sure I am,” he replies instantly, completely calm.

“You’re still stubborn, I see. And irritating!” I snap. “And difficult.”

“And you still like to fight just for the sake of fighting. Still turns you on, does it?” he asks, gaze flickering with amusement . . . and something else. Something I’m going to pretend I didn’t see.

I clear my throat. I did used to fight with him for the sake of fighting—and for the makeup sex. But also just because I thought it added a little spice to our relationship. What can I say? I was a stupid teenager. And yet, the pull to start an argument with him is still there. Yeah, the last thing I need to do is fall into old habits.

“I’m going to get Cara into her bath,” I announce.

I storm to the bathroom, muttering under my breath the whole way.

Just how long is he staying here again? Having him in my space, and in my life, is just reminding me of the what-ifs.

I don’t need to be thinking about those.

*   *   *

The next night I make pork chops.

Rake’s favorite. I don’t ask myself why I do this; I just do it.

When he sees what I’ve made, he grins and kisses me on the top of my head. “It looks fuckin’ delicious,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “And I know it’s going to taste even better.”

I tell my heart to harden, that it has no right to be jumping in my throat.

“We’ll see,” I say, trying to act unaffected by his close proximity.

“We will,” he says, studying me. I look away and find something to do to keep myself busy so I don’t have to stand there and feel the tension radiating between us.

I stir the rice.

He pushes my hair off my neck, and says, “You look beautiful today.”

Then he leaves the room.

And I finally allow myself to breathe.

*   *   *

I walk into the kitchen half-asleep the next morning and put some water on to boil.

“Good morning,” comes a deep voice behind me, making me jump.

Hand on my chest, I turn around and face him. “Holy crap! You scared me.”

“Sleep well?” he asks, but I can’t reply because I’m too busy taking in his bare chest.

Sweet baby Jesus.

The most defined set of abs I’ve ever seen in real life. A six-pack. He has a six-pack. I mean, he always was toned and muscular, but now . . .

Fuck me dead.

He’s not too bulky, still lean, but so very defined. My fingers ache to trace each ripple. My tongue wants to do the same.

He’s covered in tattoos, and I’d like to know the story behind each one.

Wow.

It’s safe to say he’s just flawless, at least on the outside.

“Bailey,” I hear him say, breaking me out of the trance that is Rake’s magnificent body.

“Uhhh, yeah?” I mumble, still fixated on his smooth skin.

“Bailey,” he repeats, more stern this time, but when I lift my gaze to his, his eyes are filled with humor and heat.

“You’ve been staring at me in silence for like five minutes straight,” he lets me know.

“Oh” is all I can manage to say. “That’s nice.”

And I’m a teacher.

I still can’t manage to turn my gaze from him.

“You’ve . . . grown,” I say, embarrassing myself further. I point to his abs. “Those are nice.”

He smiles slowly. Smugly. His heavy eyes flashing with various emotions I can’t decipher.

“Glad you approve,” he rumbles, returning the favor by taking a slow perusal of me.

I swallow hard and turn away from a body that should be on book covers, distracting myself by grabbing two mugs and placing them on the table.

“So you work out a lot then,” I blurt out, when he doesn’t say anything.

I hear him chuckle behind me, but I really don’t want to face him right now. I can actually feel the heat rising to my cheeks. You’d think I’d never been around a shirtless man before. I had, just none who looked like
that
. But it was more than that, because it was
him
. He could have gained twenty pounds and I’d still be attracted to him.

“Yeah, I guess you can say that,” he says, then steps closer to my back. So close I can feel the heat from his chest. “You look good too, Bailey.”

I think of me, one size bigger than I used to be, with stretch marks and cellulite, and have to disagree. I mean, I’m not unattractive or anything, I’m just different than what I was. I’d had a child, and I had the body of a woman who’d had one.

“Um. Thanks,” I say quietly, avoiding his gaze. I ignore the
thrill that fills me at him thinking so. Why did it matter if he thought I was attractive or not?

“You’re a beautiful woman,” he continues, and I turn around and look him right in the eye.

“Rake—”

I stop breathing as he reaches out to cup my cheek with his palm. The feel of his hand on me has me wanting to both jump in his arms and run away from him at the same time.

“I’m going to fry Cara some eggs for breakfast, would you like some?” I ask, needing to break the tension between us.

“Love some,” he replies, stepping away from me, allowing me to breathe easier. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay,” I say, clutching the edge of the table with both my hands.

I hold my breath until he leaves.

I should have known how it would be being in such a close space with him, but I didn’t realize just how bad it would be.

Even after everything that happened.

The bitterness I felt toward him. The anger. Pain.

Through all that, we still have something, a connection, tethering us together.

I don’t like it. No, I hate it.

How can he still turn me on so much after all these years? I thought I hated him, but I don’t. He walked out on me when I needed him the most. He left me in my darkest hour.

How can you forgive someone for that?

The truth is that you can’t. I might have the darkness buried for now, but it will come to light eventually. It always does.