Yours: A Forever After Novella (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

~ Harleigh ~

“As much as I’d like to say I told you so, I’ll reserve the right to do my nanny-nanny foo-foo dance later,” Faye smirks.

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?” I return absently, rooting around my closet for my leopard print Prada heels.

“Ah, quick question,” she hedges. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be meeting with the contractors who are designing the new stage set in half an hour and your still head down ass up, buried in shoes.”

Yeah, well, what can I say? When faced with the daunting prospect of facing down one's husband after being separated for four years (my choice, but still), a girl needs designer armor goddammit.

“Hmmph,” I huff, continuing to rifle through an endless mountain of stilettos, wedges, cute sandals, and the odd pair of tennis shoes. Hmm, I wonder how the hell they got in there. It sure as crap wasn’t my doing. After all, I think I’m allergic to the gym, much to my current pain in the asses dismay.

Ever since Faye gave birth to Tripp three years and however many months ago, she’s been firmly on the eat well, live well, exercise until your ass shrinks bandwagon. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for looking hot whatever outfit I choose to strut my stuff in, but you won’t catch me dead in yoga pants and a tank top unless I have a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in my hand and Netflix on the TV.

Not to mention, if Faye truly practiced what she preached, maybe she should consider closing her legs for five whole consecutive minutes so as not to end up knocked up at the mere sight of her husband's sperm.

Speak of the devil.

“Faye. Baby where are you?” The annoying friend inseminator yells.

“Upstairs honey,” my equally obnoxious boss and best friend slash sudo-sister calls back.

Jesus, what I wouldn’t give for ten seconds of peace, I sigh to myself. All of which is null and void when a small set of arms wrap around my neck, practically choking me out.

“Guess what, Lee-lee?” My adorable, yet vexing godson cries.

“Sup, little dude,” I reply, falling onto my side gently, taking him with me.

Wrapping my arms around his middle, I blow raspberries on Tripp’s neck and inhale the sweet smell of the baby shampoo Faye still likes to use on him and his sister, Maddie.

“I saaaaaid, guess what?” He says, drawing out the words.

“Okay, I’ll play. What?” I smile, ruffling his hair.

Clapping his hands excitedly, Tripp wriggles out of my arms.

“Uncle Lyric is here. He came all the way from his house to see me, and he bringed his bike.”

Fuck my life. Fuck my life right in the ass with a picket fence pailing.

I may have been the one to make the decision for us to separate all those years ago, but it wasn’t one my husband agreed or even pretended to agree with. No, Lyric the big, bad biker vehemently disagrees with anything that would put any distance between us until I gave him no choice but to accept it. And that came in the form of an ultimatum; one he abided by for the last five years, but I had a feeling wouldn’t be any longer.

“Did you hear me, Lee-lee?” My godson asks exasperatedly, tugging on some of the hair that has escaped the messy knot on the top of my head. “I said, Uncle Lyric is here, and he bringed people with him.”

Uh-huh, I just bet he did, I internally fume.

“Okay, little man. Time to let Lee-lee up so she can keep digging for gold,” Dante chuckles, leaning down to scoop his son up.

Throwing Tripp over his shoulder, Dante turns his eyes to me and warns,

“The alarms on. The doors are locked. There’s no escape this time, babe. So get that shit out of your head. It’s time you face this crap and put an end to whatever bullshit you two are playing at so you can both move on. I don’t give a fuck whether that’s together or apart, just get it done.”

My inner bitch goes rabid at Dante’s command, but the rational side of me tells that whore to simmer down because killing him will only put a strain on my relationship with his much less annoying wife.

“Aye, aye captain,” I salute him, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Watch it, Barbie, your inner bitch is showing,” he smirks, cocking his head to the side awaiting my snarky reply because he knows it’s coming.

“I take offense to that,” I hiss. “Barbie is a clueless airhead who continues to fuck a flamingly homosexual Ken; all while maintaining her impossible to achieve figure through a dangerous combination of plastic surgery and bulimia. I, however, like my food and believe it’s wasteful to recycle it. I am not clueless, nor do I seek out the company of men who prefer cock to cooch, so take it back.”

Dante throws his head back and barks out a laugh before rolling his eyes at me and walking out of the room.

“He’s right you know,” Faye mutters, handing me the sneaky Prada stowaway that had been hiding in the deep, dark abyss that by any other name is called a closet.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure he thinks he is,” I return, slipping the magnificently architectured beauty onto my foot.

“No, Hails, seriously,” she pushes. “I know Dante can be a lot to handle sometimes, and he isn’t always tactful about how he says things, but in this case, everything he said is true. You and Lyric need to sit down and work out your differences and decide how to move forward. Both of you are so stubborn and stuck in the past for so long, that the cracks are starting to show. And while you might not care, me, your brothers, your sister, your parents and his family do. This is hard for everyone, Harleigh. We haven’t been able to spend one single holiday together since all this started, and I for one have had enough.”

“Faye,” I whisper, hating that my clusterfuck of a relationship is hurting her like this.

“No, Hails, just no,” she shakes her head. “Please, if not for you, do it for me. Sort whatever it is out. You know I’ll support your decisions no matter what, and I have, but you’re about to leave on tour with Darkness Rising for three months…”

Faye’s words trail off when the deep, resonant boom of my husband's voice echoes from the doorway.

“Oh, no she’s fucking not. Over my dead body is my girl stepping foot on a bus full of horny as fuck men for months on end.”

And so it begins…

CHAPTER THREE

~ Lyric ~

Listening from the doorway wasn’t enough, so I stuck my head in and was immediately assaulted by the sight of my wife’s luscious ass in the air while she struggled to find whatever the hell it was she was searching for. As far as I’m concerned, whatever it is can stay lost because that is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen. Until Faye just had to go and ruin it that is.

Harleigh slides a heel on her slim foot, straighten her black pencil skirt and glares at her best friend, all while I fight with my overeager cock to keep his shit in check and not go off like a heat-seeking missile at the sight of his target.

It’s been years since I’ve had her naked beneath me, moaning my name and writhing helplessly while I fuck her raw, but the little bastard has a long memory that right now is doing me no favors.

Adjusting my rock hard dick more comfortably in my jeans, I listen in for a few minutes longer until I hear Faye say something about Harleigh going on tour which has me seeing red.

I step further into the room and brace both of my hands on the doorframe, hearing the wood creak as my fingertips dig in and hold on tight.

“Oh, no she’s fucking not. Over my dead body is my girl stepping foot on a bus full of horny as fuck men for months on end,” I growl ominously, watching as both women’s head spin in my direction.

Locking eyes with my wife, I seethe,

“Don’t bother opening that pretty mouth of yours to feed me some line about that shit being your job or that they’re professionals, angel.” Nodding at Faye I ask, “Give us a bit, would you, Faye? Harleigh and I have things to talk about that I’m sure she doesn’t want an audience for.”

“Lyric,” Faye all but pleads.

Jerking my head, I narrow my eyes at her.

“I’ve played by yours and Dante’s rules for a fuck of a long time, Faye, so don’t push me. You asked me to stay away and I did. Not just for you, but for her too,” I add, indicating to my wife who by all accounts is giving me a death glare that should slay me where I stand.

“I know,” Faye nods. “I know you have, and I’m grateful Lyric, but please don’t hurt her.”

Taken aback by her request, my hands shake, and my heart rate spikes. Does Faye honestly believe I’d hurt Harleigh? I fucking hope not, because if she does, then Faye doesn’t know the first goddamn thing about me.

Never. Never would I harm a hair on Harleigh’s beautiful head or cause her one ounce of pain that I could save her from. Not only am I not that kind of man, but just the thought of inflicting any kind hurt on the woman I love more than life sickens me.

With the calmest, most controlled voice I’ve ever heard come from Harleigh, she soothes,

“It’s fine, Faye. Lyric would never hurt me, and if he did, I’d be forced to kick his ass, and that’s a fate worse than death so I promise you he’ll behave himself.”

Nervously Faye agrees.

“Okay, but only if you’re sure you don’t want me to stay. I mean, I could just sit over there quietly, just in case you needed me, that is.”

“No, no, it’s all right, babe,” Harleigh smiles wryly. “Lyric will be a good boy, and I promise not to get blood on the carpet so that should put your mind at ease. Can you please tell Zander I’ll have to reschedule the meet with the contractors, and that I’ll give him a call later with the details of when and where?”

The sound of another man’s name coming out of my wife’s mouth has me wanting to commit murder, but I rein in my homicidal tendencies. Just. For her, I would do anything, but that doesn’t mean the same wave of possession, lust, and desperation doesn’t swamp me every time I think about her with somebody else. Not that Harleigh would do that; she’s not that kind of girl. Regardless of the fact we haven’t officially been together in years, my woman wouldn’t cheat on me.

Faye backs out of the room cautiously, looking between us with every backward step she takes. I get it. I know she’s worried about her friend, and she should be. I’m done fucking around and listening to everyone else's advice. I’m over having to sit back, waiting and praying my wife will come to her senses and come home where she belongs. And I’m fucking sick of waking up in a cold sweat reaching for Harleigh when I should know by now she’s never there.

“You’re looking well,” Harleigh nods tersely, pulling her long, dark hair back into a high ponytail.

Allowing my eyes to slowly peruse the length of her body, I drag out the sweet torture until my blue eyes meet fiery green ones.

“And you’re just as fucking stunning as ever,” I smirk, not even remotely bothering to hide my body’s reaction to her.

My hard on’s been insistent, throbbing and steadily dripping pre-come for her since I walked in to see Harleigh on all fours. The memory of the last time I fucked her like that is imprinted in my brain, and I’m not ashamed to say I’ve jerked off to the look of rapture on her face when I powered into her tight, hot cunt from behind either.

“So, Tripp says you brought reinforcements,” Harleigh prompts, propping her hands on her curvy hips.

“A few of the boys needed a change of scenery and decided to make the ride with me. They’ll stay out of the way while we deal with our shit, but they miss you too, Hails,” I answer honestly.

And it’s true. Losing Harleigh didn’t only affect me, it had an impact on a lot of people. Especially the men she’d become close to in the club that classified her as more than just a friend, but a sister too.

The solitary exception to that is, Spike. My best friend and patch brother openly and vocally dislikes my wife, using every opportunity he gets to tell anyone who’s listening that it’s not the end of the world, and we’re better off without her around to complicate shit.

Spike’s opinion hasn’t been well received over the years, least of all by me, and more times than I can count, we’ve gotten into it in the ring and outside of it. Regardless of how many times I’ve kicked his ass, I haven’t been able to get it out of him what his problem with Harleigh is. One minute they were almost as close as he and I are, and the next, Harleigh was avoiding him, and Spike was sending glares and insults her way.

“Lyric,” Harleigh’s sexy rasp sounds. “Who did you bring? Tell me King Douchelord isn’t downstairs because if he is, I’m not coming out of this room until he’s removed. Preferably with force by someone who dislikes him as much as I do.”

“What’s the deal with you two?” I ask, wanting a straight answer for once. “I love you, baby, and once upon a time, he did too.”

Under her breath, she mutters,

“A little too much,” which confuses the fuck out of me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Harleigh says quickly, trying to cover her earlier verbal misstep.

Stalking her as if she’s my prey and I’m a predator, I close the distance between us and wrap my arm around her waist. I inhale deeply, skimming my nose up the curve of her neck and revel in being able to touch her again.

Harleigh’s warm, silken skin, the way she sighs into my chest and curls her small hands around my biceps is achingly familiar. The feel of her pressed up against my body is like a live wire straight to my dick, who now stands at full attention, resting against her toned stomach.

“No, you don’t get to shrug that shit off, baby. If Spike’s done something to piss you off, tell me. I’ll kick his ass, make him apologize to you, and maybe then we can all get back to the way we were before all this blew up,” I reason with her.

Running my palms down her back, I feel her body shudder as I reach the dip at the base of her spine. Harleigh won’t admit it, shit, she’ll probably deny it to her dying breath, but she’s just as affected by me as I am her. Our chemistry has always been off the charts. Her sexy, tight, little body craves my touch; it has since the first time we had sex at sixteen, both of us virgins, both of us desperate for each other.

I’ll never forget the first time I sank my cock inside of her amazing pussy. It was sinfully hot, deliciously wet, and it was everything I could do not to blow my load the second I bottomed out against her cervix.

Tiny pink-tipped fingernails dig into my arms, bringing my attention back to the woman struggling to free herself from my hold. Like that’ll ever happen. I’ve been waiting too long to feel her again, so if Harleigh thinks I’m letting her go anytime soon, she’s got another thing coming.

“Stop it, baby. You’re only going to hurt yourself,” I grin tightening my grip on her.

“Ah, I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I could unman you in less than a minute, so answer the damn question,” she huffs, stilling for the time being.

Giving in, I groan,

“Yeah, Spike’s downstairs. And no, he’s not going anywhere until I find out what the fuck the deal is between you two.”

“I need space, Lyric. If you want me to talk, then you need to back the hell off.”

“Not a chance in fuck,” I snarl, walking us backward until the backs of Harleigh’s knees hit the soft mattress behind her.

Following her down and covering her body with mine, I use my hips to pin her to the bed and demand,

“Start talking, and don’t leave anything out.”

What happens next I had no way of anticipating and wouldn’t change for the world, but in hindsight should have put a stop to. At least until I got what I’d originally come there for…My wife back and the promise she’d never leave me again.