“Thank God,” he muttered into his glass. He had barely touched his bottle of whiskey, which meant he wasn’t even close to being drunk yet.
Pretty Boy and I ended up at the clubhouse. All I had at my apartment was a few beers in the refrigerator and some peppermint schnapps, which wasn’t going to cut it. The clubhouse was always fully stocked with alcohol though.
But a handful of bikers were in the clubhouse too, seated at the tables or playing pool. Brass and Trooper were armwrestling, and their trash talking was getting louder by the minute. They wanted to know how Dad was doing, and I updated them on his health, reassuring them that he was home and resting.
I was tired of talking about it though. I was tired of staring the ugly truth in the face over and over that I was still standing on the brink of potentially losing my dad if he didn't fully recover from this.
So, I grabbed my bottle of vodka and I went in search of some peace and quiet. Wandering down the hallway, I chose one of the spare bedrooms in the back and slipped inside. A moment later, Pretty Boy tiptoed in after me.
We kept the lights off, and we sat on the floor, leaning back against the foot of the bed. Side by side.
“I thought I would feel better when I got Dad home,” I whispered. “But I don’t. I feel…”
I swallowed hard, suddenly fighting a swell of nausea in my throat.
Helpless. I felt helpless. And it made my skin crawl. I gripped the neck of the vodka bottle tighter, blinking rapidly as tears burned behind my eyes.
“Hey,” Pretty Boy said softly. “Hillbilly is going to be okay. The doctor said he’s doing well, right?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” I trailed off with a vague gesture. “He lookedold, Pretty Boy. For the first time in my life, my father looked like an old, frail man. I’m not used to that. Of course he won’t live forever. I know. But I just…never really thought…what am I going to do without him?”
The alcohol was making me ramble. I pressed my palm to my throbbing temple and sighed, tipping my head back against the mattress.
“Fuck, I drank too much.”
Pretty Boy pried the bottle away from me, not that it would do any good at this stage when it was practically drained dry. Then he took my hand, threading our fingers together.
If I had been sober, I would have chewed his ear off forholding my hand like we were in middle school.
But sitting here in the dark, with a pickled brain and feeling uncharacteristically weepy, I didn’t breathe a word of protest.
Dad taught me to be strong, unshakeable. A moment of weakness could be exploited and used against me. I had to remain vigilant, baring my teeth at the world so no one could get to the soft, exposed parts that would make me bleed.
It was nice to let my guard down for a change. To let someone hold me. As long as Pretty Boy and I were in the dark, I could pretend it wasn’t actually happening. In the daylight, it would be easier to deny that it ever occurred and I could go back to hating him.
That’s why I turned my head and pressed my lips to his.
Pretty Boy didn’t miss a beat. Without breaking the kiss, he shoved his glass of whiskey aside and buried his fingers in my hair. His teeth grazed my lower lip with a delicious sting. When I gasped, he swept his tongue into my mouth, making the kiss so deep and all-consuming that I forgot how to breathe.
I climbed into his lap, straddling him. A low, deep rumble echoed in Pretty Boy’s chest—part groan, part growl. He grabbed my hips, coaxing me to grind against him.
The buzz of alcohol mixed with the electric pulse of arousal lit up every nerve in my body. My pussy ached with emptiness, desperate to be filled. The seam of my jeans rubbed along my clit with just enough friction to get me wet and frustrated, but not nearly enough to make me come.
Pretty Boy pushed my tank top up, exposing my breasts. He hummed with appreciation, tracing the black lace cups of my bra. I closed my eyes, arching into his touch. I felt his smuglittle smile as he kissed the swell of my cleavage, punctuated by teasing flicks of his tongue.
I threaded my fingers into his hair with a firm tug. Ducking my head, I brought my mouth to his ear.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”
He exhaled a soft laugh, peeling my bra down. He sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, bucking up against me. I swore softly and my eyes rolled my back in my head. He was so fucking hard beneath me and it felt so good.
A burst of laughter from the main room of the clubhouse didn’t even make us pause. Our heavy breathing filled the air between us, grasping and grinding desperately.
This is exactly what I needed—losing myself in the heat of the moment so I didn’t have to think about anything for a few blissful minutes. All I had to do was feel Pretty Boy’s hands and mouth on my body.
Then he had to break the damn spell.
“Wait—Lila, wait,” Pretty Boy murmured.