Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,43
fuck in, exactly how I fucking like. I lift my head and our eyes meet as she drops her hand and says, “I don’t want you anymore.”
Fuck that. She’s still full of shit.
I snap my hand out and grab hers, yanking her back to me roughly. Her gasp makes its way to my dick, as does the way her body arches into mine. “You want me more than you want your fucking husband. Tell me that’s not true.” It’s a demand, and it rages out of me with every beat of the anger rolling through me.
She stares at me, another lie about to leave her tongue. “I don’t w—”
My lips smash down onto hers.
I need to silence that fucking lie.
My kiss is unforgiving. It’s filled with every shitty emotion she made me feel by accusing me of not being faithful. If there’s one fucking thing I was, it was fucking loyal.
By the time I’m finished with her lips, her hands are all over me. They’re under my shirt. They’re in my pants. They’re desperate for more. But fuck if I’m giving her that this time.
I let her go and step back.
Running my eyes over her, I spit out, “You want me, Mayfair, but you’re not fucking having me. I was faithful to you every second we were together, but you took that and fucking trashed it. Now I don’t even want to look at you, let alone fuck you.”
I turn to leave, absolutely fucking ravaged by this encounter.
“I deserve the hurt you’re hurling at me, Mason, but I don’t deserve the hate,” she says as I walk away. “We’re done now. I won’t do this with you again.”
I stop, but I don’t turn back to face her.
I process what she says and then I keep going.
Yeah, we’re fucking done.
12
Chelsea
I apply sunscreen to my legs as I watch my husband dive into our pool. The November heat has been almost as unbearable as Joe the last few weeks. Between pressuring me to quit my job, signing me up for interview after interview, forcing me to attend political events, and insisting on having more control over my wardrobe and calendar than I prefer, I’m unsure how I’ve made it through without stabbing him in the eyes. The only answer I have for that is wine, and that’s just one more point of contention between us. That, and our sex life. Joe’s need for me is increasing at an alarming rate. That doesn’t thrill me. But if there’s one thing I’m learning about my husband, it’s that fighting back does actually work at times. He doesn’t win every battle, and that’s the way I’m going to keep it.
After that last awful encounter with Mason at the day spa a month ago, I’ve tried to find a way to settle into my marriage, to make the most of a bad situation, but Joe has made that impossible. His possessiveness and need for control are suffocating. Somehow, though, I’ve managed to keep up the façade of a happy marriage when we’re in the public eye, and while my father’s approval ratings have taken a hit thanks to those shitty policies I told him about, the public can’t get enough of my marriage. And of Joe. He already had a public presence because of his family; his ties to my father have magnified that presence. The only good thing about this is the fact my father is extremely happy with me at the moment. It seems my marriage has helped him more than he thought it would. Go me.
I finish with the sunscreen and relax into the sunlounger while Joe swims laps. He’s a machine when it comes to physical activity, swimming and running every day as well as working out in our home gym. If I actually liked him, I’d acknowledge his muscles are impressive. Instead, all I see is the kind of strength that is beginning to scare me.
Trying to take my mind off him, I scroll Facebook. I’m not really paying attention, though, and am quickly bored by memes and photos of food.
I’m saved by a text from Alexa.
Alexa: Wanna have a girls’ day next week? We could get our hair done and then go for cocktails.
Me: I’m free Tuesday afternoon.
Alexa: Perfect! I’ll take the afternoon off. I’m gonna send you a hairstyle I think would look amazing on you.
An image comes through and I check it out. It’s a shorter, more layered style than I have now.