Gunnar A Motorcycle Club Romance - Nina Levine Page 0,73

at my hair, while her tongue tangles with mine. She’s making the kind of noises that intensify my desire for her, that drive me fucking wild.

I tear my mouth from hers, trying like fuck to think this through. That’s impossible, though. I don’t think with Chelsea; that’s not how we work. We just fucking feel. And we might not be together, but we’re buried so fucking deeply in each other that we’re connected for life. That’s why I haven’t covered her tattoo and why I’ll never fucking cover it.

Chelsea’s the girl I’ve loved since I was five.

She’s the girl who owned my heart before I even knew it.

She’s the girl I’ll always love.

“Fuck,” I say as she grips my shirt and looks up at me through the water with an expression that tells me she knows my thoughts and is waiting for my decision. I claim her lips again in a savage kiss that she gives right back to me. When I end the kiss, I rasp, “I know how this fucking ends, Mayfair, and I still can’t stop myself from fucking wanting you.”

My mouth is back on hers without wasting another second, and we’re a frenzy of clothes coming off, skin on skin, and the kind of sex I’ve only ever known with her.

Chelsea comes in my arms as I fuck her against the shower wall with water cascading over us. I come right after, and when I pull out of her, I hold her eyes and say, “I want you tonight.”

She frowns, not understanding, so I say with force, “I want you in my arms while I sleep. I fucking want to wake up with you tomorrow.”

“Mason,” she says, her voice full of misgiving, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I agree, it’s not, and yet I fucking want it, and you’re gonna give it to me.”

Her eyes search mine for what feels like a long fucking minute, and then she nods and says softly, “Okay.” And not for the first time, I think about how this woman was made for my destruction.

25

Chelsea

I slip into the bed in one of Alexa’s spare rooms, and Mason slides in after me, his strong arms coming around me and pulling my body against his.

What the hell are we doing?

My heart is beating so fucking fast that it almost feels like it could beat its way out of my damn chest.

“Breathe,” he murmurs against my ear, his chest pressing to my back.

I bring my hand up and curl it around his arm that’s holding me tightly to him. “I’m not sure I can,” I say. It’s barely a whisper, but he hears me.

“It’s just one night, Mayfair.”

“I’m not sure you and I can do just one night.”

He kisses my neck. “You might be right there.”

Oh God, I am right. And yet, I want this as much as he does. I just don’t want to admit it.

I turn silent while he continues pressing kisses to my neck and shoulder. His mouth on my skin feels so good and I never want him to stop. I never want this night to end. I never want to go back to my real life.

Tightening my grip on his arm, I say, “Do you remember that time in grade twelve when you got drunk at that party, and I was freaking out because you got in a fight with a guy and his machete?”

His kisses slow, but don’t stop altogether. “Yeah. Why?”

“Jenny Parish was going to tell you she liked you that night, and I told her she shouldn’t. I told her you and I had fooled around and were getting together.”

He chuckles, lifting his lips from my skin. “I know.”

I wiggle in his arms so I can roll over and face him. “How do you know that? I never told anyone that.” Hell, I was going to take that secret to my grave because I was so horrified that my desperation not to see Mason with another girl had caused me to lie to a friend.

“Jenny told me when she kissed me at a party the next weekend.”

My eyes go wide. “You never told me you kissed her. And why’d you never ask me about it?”

He grins, and it causes butterflies in my stomach. It’s so good to see the real Mason rather than the angry, hateful Mason I caused. Curving his hand over my waist, he says, “I didn’t tell you about every girl I ever kissed, Mayfair. I figured you just didn’t like Jenny