he wanted, with the son that he wants to keep as his own.
I try not to tear up, but these days my mind and body are not in sync. She senses him looking at her. My gaze shifts to her in my peripheral vision. I’m facing his profile, but I see the second she looks at us. Her eyes move down to my belly, then slide back up to meet his, and her lips turn up into a gorgeous smile.
He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he turns away from both of us and walks over to the bar. I’m standing in my shorts that are too small and a cheap shirt that Ana grabbed for me when she went to Walmart. She’s gorgeous and put together, and I look like a trailer park version of her. This is the classy woman that he’s attracted to, not some cheap version of her, not me.
No wonder he needs to go to the bar and drink. No wonder he needs to leave as soon as I’m here. No fucking wonder he’s so hot and cold.
“Hey,” Della calls out as she makes her way toward me.
I’m still watching Mountain’s back as he is bellied up to the bar. He reaches for the woman behind the counter and tweaks her nipple from over the top of her triangle bikini top. Anger boils inside of me instantly at the sight.
“Leighton?” Della asks.
“What?” I snap, shifting my attention to her.
She blinks, then takes a step back, obviously upset by my sharp tongue. I would apologize, but I don’t really feel like being nice right now. I feel like an idiot. Like the biggest fool who's walked the earth. All it takes are a couple semi-sweet words and I just skip behind him, a man I don’t really know, and come back here.
“I’m glad you’re back. I think this is going to be amazing,” she whispers.
I snort, wishing like hell that I could be a bitch to her. But it’s not her fault, none of it. “I highly doubt that, but thank you.”
“Time, Leighton. All it takes is time. Everything is new.”
I hum and turn away from her, heading out to the back. It’s rude. I know that it is, but I don’t necessarily feel like being cordial right now.
I need fresh air.
I need to breathe.
I need to just have quiet.
Hell, I don’t know what I need. But I do know that I don’t want a man who thinks I’m second best, who turns his back on me instantly, who ignores me and grabs another woman’s boob right in front of me.
I definitely don’t want that.
Not in the fucking slightest.
Something ugly grows inside of me, deep down to my core. I hate it. Hate the feeling, but it’s been there gnawing on the edges of my thoughts since I found out about Della, about the baby that they share, the bond that will forever keep them—together.
“You runnin’ again, girl?” a deep voice growls.
Turning my head, I look over to see a bearded man standing next to me. His eyes are focused on mine, not moving and looking really fucking annoyed that he has to deal with this shit. I don’t blame him, considering the patch on his cut names him as the president of this club.
A few months ago, I didn’t know shit about these clubs, about how they worked. After living at the Sinister Skulls clubhouse, between Dutch and Ana, I got a lesson on club life. Most of it, I found intriguing, some of it chauvinist, and a little of it disturbing.
“Dragon?” I ask, dipping my chin toward his name patch. I remember meeting him once, he laughed and gave me some tequila.
His lips twitch. “I’m President here, but I don’t need to tell you that. We’ve met, when you first got here. Plus, I’m sure you’ve figured it out by looking at my cut, I doubt Bones and Dutch let you walk off of Skulls property without an education.”
“Oh, I got an education,” I mutter.
I think about how the Skulls cage their women, how they are completely and totally submissive to them in every way. Then also, seeing how it could be beautiful too. How their men truly cared for them in their own way. I loved it. I loved it so much, I fantasized that it could happen to me with Mountain.
I’d allowed myself to forget. Just as I swore, I would never forget about the things that my father did to me, I’d told