Final Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (Hellions Ride Book 9) (6 page)

I can only nod. It’s all too much to take in.

“You’re mine. You get that?”

I shrug, not knowing what he wants me to say.

“Fuckin’ hell. I ain’t got time for this shit. Look, me and you been doing this dance long enough. Waited years to accept it, waited years to make my move, waited years for you to get straight for you. Been hell lovin’ you without havin’ you. Done with that shit. Had lots of shit change in the last week.” He holds up his index finger. “One fuckin’ thing didn’t change.” He moves his finger back and forth between us. “This shit.” He rests his finger on my chest over my heart. “This shit deep in here between us, it doesn’t change. It didn’t change then, ain’t gonna change now. And what I know about myself, shit ain’t gonna change for me in the future.”

He drops his hand and studies me. “You don’t feel the same … walk. Walk the fuck out now. You can have whatever you want, but you can’t look back, Amy. I’m not that kind of man. Never liked games, and I don’t believe in regrets. Had a broad in my bed once—nothing but games. I’m a grown-ass fucking man with a practically grown kid. Not into games. I know what I want. It’s you. I know you want it, too. Question is: you got the nerve to step up and take it?”

“Don’t,” I challenge back. “Don’t you dare question where I stand. Just don’t.”

“Actions, darlin’. Time to show me where this is gonna go.”

Grabbing the edges of his cut, I yank him to me before I snake my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. Then, with his lips pressed against mine, I look him in the eye.

“Don’t … Just don’t burn me, Frisco. I’m giving you all I have. You have me. Now, what are you gonna do with me?”

Stages

I pace the space of his room, listening to Frisco’s tone softening as he speaks to his daughter.

He has a daughter. He went on a club run and came back a dad.

“Shannon, you’ll be in here. We need to wash off the road, get some solid sleep, and then we’ll get you some stuff of your own tomorrow.”

When I close my eyes, I can hear the fatigue in his voice. I can sense the exhaustion in the air. However, all the hurt, the sadness, and the anxiety seem trivial as I stop to think about what Frisco has been through.

You’re mine. You’re in my bed
, his words echo in my mind.

What does all this mean? I have been around the Hellions long enough to know what it means to Frisco. But to me, what does this mean? How did we skip all the relationship steps? Is this what it is to be with a biker? They say you’re mine, and
boom,
you’re together?

I am on the curvier side. Romance novels would call me a BBW—big beautiful woman. I call myself luscious loving, not that I have a lot of loving. Not that I ever had a lot of loving. I never even fit in anywhere. Well, except for the time I was in St. Louis working for my cousin Ray Mitchell.

We didn’t grow up together. No, my life was never settled until those few years I had with Ray. He gave me a job at his company, I had a steady pay check, and there were people who had my back. Until Delatorre.

Felix Delatorre played on my every insecurity. He broke me from the inside out, and it all landed me here.

Richard “Frisco” Billings took me in after I tried to set up the Hellions. He had my back when I could have cost Delilah “Doll” Reklinger-Crews everything, all to keep Ray and his family safe.

For almost a year, Frisco slept next to me, holding me through every nightmare, reminding me to breathe through every panic attack. He pushed me when I couldn’t find a way to push myself.

From enemies to friends to, dare I say, lovers?

I look at the queen-sized bed I slept on so many times. The country chic quilt covering it was my Christmas present to Frisco two years ago. The ivory trim has pale blue square insets with yellow pinwheel patterns.

I smile, thinking about the day he opened it …

“Thanks, Amy. Don’t reckon I’ll get cold under this,” he says, pulling the quilt from its box.

“The little old lady we saw at the Mullet Festival, the one Roundman stopped and tossed money to, saying Dia loved to get quilts from her when she was still alive,” I ramble on, “I got her phone number and gave her a call after the festival, and she had this one finished.” I nervously wring my hands. “I know blue really isn’t your color, but I hated to have her make something in a rush with her being so old. I wanted you to have a blanket like a real one stitched with love.”

Frisco smiles, leaning over toward me. He snakes his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me to him. Forehead to forehead, he laughs. “Never had blue in my house before. It’s new, not bad. Never had a blanket stitched with love before, either. Thoughts make the gifts, Amy. You gave heart. It’s appreciated, darlin’.”

He never had a blanket stitched with love. He’s never had a home full of love. Well, he’s never had a daughter before now, either. Now he’s about to get a whole lot of love, and all of it in his home.

“Thinkin’ awfully hard over there,” Frisco’s voice comes from the doorway.

Turning my head from the bed, I look at him from over my shoulder. His dark eyes look tired, fear in their depths that I have never seen before. When he runs his hand through his slicked back salt and pepper hair as he yawns, I look at his overgrown goatee with the same gray and black streaks.

At fifty-four years old, the man is still fit, handsome, and has a devilish grin that makes women take notice. There is usually mischievousness dancing in his dark eyes, too. Tonight, though, I only find fear and fatigue.

“What are you afraid of?” I ask boldly, stepping toward him.

“Got a daughter in the next room. I don’t know the first thing about raising kids. I damn sure don’t know shit about women. Got a beautiful woman in front of me. Had you here for years and didn’t see what I needed to for so long. Can an old man like me get a second chance at life?”

Reaching up, I trace my thumbs over the edges of his lips, feeling the coarse hair of his goatee under my fingers. “Can my life really begin at thirty? Can I have something long lasting?” I counter on a whisper.

He snakes his hands around my waist and tightens his grip, jerking me against him. “Gonna give me a chance?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod. Then Frisco drops his lips to mine.

This kiss is softer. On a strong exhale, he backs me up into the room as he kicks the door closed and deepens our kiss. His tongue parts my lips and enters my mouth as he keeps backing me up until I feel the back of my knees hit the bed. Leaning over me, he presses me down onto the quilt before he breaks our kiss to stand.

I watch as he removes his cut. For a moment, he stares at the leather before he lays it over his dresser then pulls his black T-shirt over his head.

Anxiety hits me like a kick in the teeth.

“We’re missing the stages,” I ramble. “I mean, I’m infatuated by you. I want you to touch me, do things to me. I want this, but like …” I begin to stumble over my words.

Kicking off his boots, he stalks toward me in just his jeans as his abdomen flexes, revealing those perfectly sculpted abs I read about.

I raise my hands and sit up to stop him as I feel myself practically drooling over his body. I am an idiot, in over my head.

“Stages?” Frisco asks his voice husky with desire.

“Relationship stages,” I clarify. “You simply said, ‘you’re mine.’ But, Frisco, there are, like, stages.”

Sass went through some shit on her road to getting where she is today. Tank and her are the real deal, friends to enemies, frienemies to lovers—a life story. During that time, she was tied up with a sick, twisted man named Nick. It sparked my interest, and because I am a nerd, something I have always kept to myself, I love to read. It’s my escape. So, when Sass found herself all wrapped up in getting away from the Hellions, I read a book on the nine stages of a relationship.

It all keeps slamming into my mind when I need to be in this moment and forget the nonsense.

As he stands in front of me and laughs, the script tattoo on his ribs catches my attention. The words trail his side just under his pectorals, covering his left ribs. Without thinking, I reach up and trace the words with my fingers.

Made from my rib, a piece to fit beside me, not above me, not under me, but beside me. My woman is my equal, my partner, my very breath.

His right simply says:
Get under my skin
.

Frisco covers my hand with his, lifting my fingers to his lips. “Women were made from the rib of a man. I had that one done after I realized Tilly was not the woman made for me. She wanted to be over me. My woman, my Amy, is a piece to fit beside me. I am not to be controlled, nor am I meant to trample over you. We are one. You are my equal, my partner, and till my dying breath, I am yours as you are mine.”

“Stages,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes. “We’re skipping the stages, Frisco.”

Putting my fingers in his mouth, he tracing his tongue in a tease over my fingertips. I can’t stop the dampening of my panties no more than I can stop wanting to have a future, a life, and a now with this man.

“Tell me about the stages, Amy,” he says, stepping back to take off his belt and jeans, exposing himself to me. Then he climbs in his bed casually, as if everything between us isn’t changing, lying against the pillows naked with his erect cock standing proudly.

I suddenly can’t form words. Turning to face him, I can see the playfulness come back to his eyes.

“Infatuation, stage one of a relationship,” I begin while he puts his hands behind his head with not an ounce of shame. “When you can’t stand to be apart. Then you build on that to the understanding stage, where you learn about each other.”

“In the last few years that you’ve been here with me, Amy, I don’t know of a time either of us wanted to be apart from the other. I think we have that one covered.” He winks. “Understanding …” He clucks his tongue. “Well, you understand my life ain’t easy. I understand you had some things happen that took comfort and security away from your life. I work hard to give you safety. I think we understand what we need from each other.”

“You make it sound so easy.” I crawl up the bed to be closer to him. “There are more stages.”

“Well, how about, for every stage we’ve managed to get through, you remove an article of clothing? No one likes to be naked alone.” He smirks, and I decide to challenge him at his game.

“I’ll give you stage one and two, then.” I remove my T-shirt and socks. Sitting in my pajama pants and bra, I wonder if I thought this through.

“Stages,” he prods as he looks me over from top to toe, drinking me in. “Continue on. This is suddenly very fun.”

“Disturbances. Stage three is when there are minor disagreements. This is the warning stage when alarms should go off if you aren’t compatible or one pushes too hard.”

“Alarms, huh.” He sits up and leans toward me. “I ever scare you, Amy? I ever push you too hard? It hasn’t been easy. Hell, times have been hell, lying next to you and wanting nothing more than anything to sink inside your tight cunt, yet knowing you weren’t there. I think we’ve had this stage covered for a while. I think we fit.” He sits back confidently, and I think on his words.

He’s never scared me. In fact, Frisco has been my only comfort from the very beginning. Even when I was drowning in fear, he pulled me to the surface, reminding me I was alive and Delatorre was no more.

Without a word, I stand and slide my pajama bottoms off before climbing back onto the bed. Feeling insecure with my body, I curl up around myself.

“Keep going,” he says, moving closer and turning on his side to face me, his erection laying against my knee.

“Opinion maker. The next stage, you form your opinions of your partner.”

He reaches out, using the back of his fingers to run down my neck, shoulder, and arm. “My opinion of the woman in front of me is firm. You are strong.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine before backing away less than an inch from me. My body is hot with desire. “You are loyal. You are kind. You are soft, yet you know how to be hard when you have to. You stand by me and my brothers, even when you don’t know what’s going on. You bring a smile to my day every day. My opinion of you is one full of adoration, admiration, and fucking absolute sexual desire.” He presses his lips to mine again, and when I open, his tongue invades.

My insides spark with my own needs as I reach out and pull myself closer to him, wrapping my leg over his and lining his dick up with my panty-covered core.

I feel him reach for the clasp of my bra as the two of us breathe heavily, devouring each other’s mouths. With a quick flip of the clasps, I feel the fabric release my breasts, and then the tickle to my skin as he slides the material down my exposed shoulder, leaving the strap on my other shoulder in place. Then he breaks away on a smile.

“I would say we’ve covered that stage as well.” He moves back, resting his hand on my thigh that is now draped over his. He looks at my halfway on bra squished between us. “You can handle the other side.” He winks.