“Why?”
“I should have picked you up earlier and taken you on a date. I’d planned to . . .”
“I think we both know dates on Valentine’s Day are not your kind of thing, and I’m okay with that.”
“Yeah?”
I smiled. “Yeah. But you’re gonna have to make up for that in other ways.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “I think I’m good for that, baby. I don’t think I could fuck that up even if I tried.”
“I think you’re right there. You have mad talents in that department.”
He laughed, and it was so damn good to see him relax a little. “Good to know my talents are appreciated,” he said, letting go of my hand and sitting back in his chair.
My smile faded. “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s really going on, because I am betting it’s got absolutely nothing to do with Valentine’s Day? Is it something to do with my father? Is that why you’re sitting alone in this pub tonight looking like you’re assessing your whole damn life?”
“This is our pub, Evie. It’s where I come to think.”
Warmth spread out from my belly.
He remembers.
“Yeah, I know it’s our pub,” I said, and then asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“Do you ever look back on your life and wonder if you could have done it better?” His eyes watched me intently, waiting for my answer.
I nodded. “Yeah, I do it a lot.” I drove myself crazy with my thoughts sometimes.
He listened to what I said, remaining still. His body was so tightly wound by the looks of it and I wanted to lay my hands on him and try to work some of that tension out. But what Kick needed at this very minute was a listening ear so I gave him that instead.
Eventually, he stretched his arm back to grab hold of the back of his neck, letting out a muttered, “Fuck,” while he did it.
I leant my forearms on the table and shifted forward in my seat. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I sorted your father’s debt today . . . but I’ve caused other problems in order to do that.”
My relief was short-lived as what he’d just said filtered through. I frowned. “What kind of problems do you mean?” My heart beat faster in my chest at the thought something bad would come of all this.
He reached for the beer in front of him and took a swig before placing it back on the table and absently running his finger around the rim. Eventually, he gave me his eyes, and said, “It’s nothing the club and I can’t handle, but . . . fuck, I don’t know, have you ever gotten to a point in your life where you feel sick of all the shit you have to deal with? Like, if you’d made different choices in your life, things would be so much different.”
“Yes,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off him.
“I just want this to be simple, Evie,” he said quietly.
“What?” I asked, unsure of what he was referring to.
Anguish burned in his eyes. “Us. I just want us to be easy for once.”
My heart squeezed in my chest.
I hated seeing him hurt.
Standing, I held out my hand to him. His brows pulled together, questioning, so I said, “I want it to be easy too, Kick, so I’m going to show you how much I love you, and we’re going to make a pact to stick together no matter what. Life might be hard, but you and I can do everything possible to make us easy.”
He stared at my hand for what felt like ages and then gave me his as he slowly stood. When his gaze met mine, he said, “I fuckin’ hope so, baby.”
***
“Stop,” Kick growled, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me back to him as he came through my front door. He closed the door behind him and whispered in my ear, “That was the longest fuckin’ ride.”
I let my head fall back on his shoulder, and when his mouth found my neck a moment later, I moaned as his lips set my body on fire. My hand reached up and my fingers slid through his hair. Gripping tight, I admitted, “The last three years have been the longest fucking years, Kick.”
He ground his erection against my ass. “Fuck, baby, never going there again,” he promised gruffly. His mouth pressed harder into my neck, and his lips and tongue worked their magic on me. His hand skimmed up my body, ghosting over my breasts and my neck to eventually end up in my hair. My core nearly exploded when he roughly grabbed my hair, yanked my head to the side, and rasped, “You ready for your Valentine’s present?”
Fuck.
I’d missed this.
Missed Kick’s rough side.
Before I managed to form coherent words, his hand that was around my waist, reached down to the bottom of my dress, and pulled it up high enough to give him access to my panties. His hand slid straight in, his fingers gliding through the wetness I’d had for him all day. He teased me for a few moments, sampling my pussy without giving me what I wanted. What he knew I wanted. Every time his finger came near my entrance, I pushed myself into his hand, trying desperately to force him inside, but he quickly moved his finger away and circled back to my clit.
“Kick . . .” I groaned, trying to move my head out of his hold so I could attempt to gain some control back.
“No,” he growled, holding my hair tighter, yanking it harder to the side, showing me who held the control here. His finger ran circles over my clit again before slowly moving back down. “Tell me how much you want this, baby,” he ordered, his finger hovering over my entrance, teasing the hell out of me again.