It was creepy as fuck.
When Ryker called me, Sidewinder had to catch me when my knees buckled. For a moment I really thought I might have been having a heart attack.
Thankfully, Sidewinder was able to snap me out of it.
He gripped my shoulders and got right in my face. “Turner,” he snapped, “you need to get your shit together. With how you are right now, I’m not letting you get on your bike, brother.”
That had him coming into focus, but the fear was still clinging to me.
“I will put you in a damn cage and drive you home like your MissfuckingDaisy,” he threatened.
I reared back from him like he had backhanded me. “The fuck you will,” I grunted.
“Thank fuck,” he gasped, way over dramatically. “I thought I was really going to have to slap you.”
He made a motion like he was going to do it, but I pushed him way. We both chuckled which broke the tension and I was able to see straight again.
“Go,” he waved me off even though his body language was screaming that he wished he was going with me. “I have some work I have to get done. I’ll be there as soon as I can get out from under it.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. By the time I got to the clubhouse, my woman was drinking a bottle of water, while looking a little pale, but no worse for the wear.
She’s bounced back and her belief in the club, in me, being able to protect her, has been rock solid. I’m the one struggling.
Because I can’t stop thinking about how I shouldn’t have sent Opal for my woman’s mail. I should have picked it up myself and checked every piece of it. It was a stupid fucking oversight, one that added more trauma on Graycie’s shoulders.
She doesn’t need that shit.
I fucked up, but I won’t let it happen again.
The guilt has been eating me up and I’ve been walking around like a bear with its paw caught in a trap. I know it. But I can’t stop it.
I’m never like that with my Graycie though. No, with her everything disappears, including the rage and the guilt.
She’s fucking magic.
“Excuse me?”
I hear the voice of my Angel behind me, and I spin around too fast and almost trip over my own fucking feet. She’s here. Right in front of me. In jeans that look painted on, and one of my shirts which is large enough to hang off one shoulder.
Fuck me.
She giggles and one side of her mouth quirks up.
I swallow hard, but it does nothing to help with my dry mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”
Graycie nods slowly and takes a step closer to me. Her hips swing and my eyes track the movement.
Then something clicks in my mind and I straighten up. I snap, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My Angel isn’t deterred by my outburst; she simply takes another step closer and arches an eyebrow. “This is a special case. Call it a furlough, if you must.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, and my hands itch to grip the strands, to wrap them around my fists and tug. “I heard,” her eyes slide over my body, “you’ve been having a hard day.”
She pouts slightly and she’s right about the hard part. My cock becomes a steel pipe, and I let out a growl of warning. I’m on edge.
I have been for days.
Not that my woman hasn’t gotten off. I made fucking sure of it.
But not me.