His thumb gently strokes the outline of my lips. I know what’s coming, but that doesn’t change how intense it feels when Isaac kisses me. Holy shit. His lips are warm. Soft. He knows exactly what he’s doing and I realize once he starts that I never stood a chance against this. My body shudders against his, but I can’t bring myself to pull away.
I kiss him back. Of course I kiss him back. He’s a hot biker in a dive bar and we just had the most romantic dance of my life to Tennessee Whiskey. And that Fleetwood Mac song in the background is making me feel both nostalgic and reckless with Ghost.
I hope he doesn’t live up to his name and disappear. My fingers find the collar of his leather jacket as if the thought of him escaping is enough to make me cling tighter. Isaac grunts and grabs my ass once I pull him against me. He wants me just as badly as I want him. But there’s only so much kissing we can do in the middle of this dance floor in front of everyone.
He doesn’t stop too soon. I’m thankful that we get to keep kissing. The song takes a chaotic turn back to Fancy Like by Walter Hayes. Everyone in the bar is too drunk to care about the vibe shift and judging by the way Isaac kisses me, he likes the song too. Before I know it, he sneaks me across the dance floor and back against the wall where our kissing gets to the point where I hope my sister isn’t watching.
His hand moves to the front of my shirt and I know we shouldn’t, but I want Isaac to escalate things so badly it hurts. My hips buck forward slowly with desire for him as I gyrate my body closer to Isaac’s, silently pleading with him to take advantage of me while he has me pinned up against the wall.
He peels away from kissing me with an expression on his face that startles me with its intensity.
“I need to take you home tonight, Gabby.”
I’m too surprised to respond right away as all the logistics and reasons why I can’t go home with Isaac shoot through my mind. It doesn’t even matter. There’s a loud electric sound in the bar and then — all the lights go out and the power in the bar shuts off. It’s dark.
It takes everyone a beat to realize what happened. There’s one whisper. Two whispers. Then all hell breaks loose.
Chapter Six
Tylee
Selma Sinclair adds a helping of whiskey to my coffee that she insists will help me feel better. I’ve had plenty of whiskey since I made my way up to her place and none of it has helped in the slightest. The only good thing about being here is that nobody will suspect it. Selma hates my guts because she, and I quote, “never met a red-headed bitch she liked”. It has something to do with the fact that the chick who married Bench after her divorce had red-hair.
It’s all stupidly complicated, but Bench was my father-in-law and he died when the clubhouse burned down. Or maybe he was shot since we’ll never really be able to tell.
“Hurry up and drink that before the kids wake up.”
“I’m still nursing Aimee.”
“I’ll make her some formula. What about breakfast for Kyler and Max?”
My mother in law is a piece of work, but at least she has a chance of getting through to the bikers about myrightswithin this club. I had an artist do the line work for me, but Isaac chose to tattoo me and it says right on my right thigh just beneath my ass cheek:Property of Ghost.
I’m his old lady. I fought my entire life to be with that man and I won’t let him take my kids away from me and run off to get hitched to some hot piece of ass he meets at a gas station or something. I won’t have some other woman living in a house with my kids and making them breakfast oranyof that shit.
“They’re kids. They can have cereal,” I snap at her with more irritation than she deserves. “I need a cigarette, not whiskey.”
“You need to go back to Isaac and beg him to take you back.”
Selma is too old-fashioned for her own good sometimes.
“I did. I know he’s screwing around on me. That’s why he…” My lower lip trembles. I grew up with brothers and had to learn quickly how to get out of situations without getting hit. “He told me he wanted nothing to do with me and the kids. That new girl probably doesn’t evenwantkids and he doesn’t give a shit about us.”
“Men are more selfish than women,” Selma says, tipping her whiskey brazenly into a shot glass. “It’s pretty much science.”
“I know. Please, Selma. I need your help. I know you didn’t raise a monster.”
“Damn right, I didn’t. But it’s that club, Tylee. It’s that damned club.”
Selma blames the club for losing Bench to Caitlin. I can’t speculate as to why Isaac’s father abandoned his family for another woman, but I can use it to my advantage.
“It’s the same thing with Bench. He met another whore and left you behind. And you really loved him, didn’t you?”
“I still have that stupid fucking tattoo,” Selma says, her eyes welling with tears.
“Cigarette?” I ask her. She fights back her tears, handing one over without questioning me again so that she can focus on hiding her vulnerability.
“He was supposed to buy me a 5,000 square foot house and he gambled all the money away. He’s a fucking asshole.”