Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7) Page 19

  “Okay.”

  Like that, it was over. They climbed into their respective vehicles and headed in separate directions.

  “That was weird,” Cami ventured.

  Eamon laughed. “My jaw dropped when that little kid came bouncing out of the truck. Sweet Pea and Spoon.”

  “She’s adorable. I found her when she was lost at that motorcycle show. I guess she remembered.”

  “Well, your good deed smoothed the way for a settlement between the clubs. Deuce called his father, I called Irish, they’re on board.”

  “I didn’t see you on your phones.”

  “I believe you were singing some nursery rhymes at the time.” He glanced over. “You’ll make a good mom someday.”

  Cami lifted a shoulder. “Where are we going now?”

  “Party at the clubhouse. The agreement I made with Deuce involves me offering them some free legal advice, and Irish is going to pay me back in beer.”

  “So your good lawyer reputation is what saved the day.”

  His mouth twitched, then he smiled, a beautiful, carefree smile that stopped her heart then set it racing again. “Or more likely Sweet Pea and Spoon.”

  At the MC headquarters, neon beer signs and motorcycle posters as well as candid photos of the club members filled the walls of the common room. A bar took up one corner of the space, and couches and chairs, a pool table, ping pong table, and a big screen TV filled the rest.

  Cami nursed her third hops-heavy beer, a homemade microbrew Irish told her he was going to take commercial. She clinked her Solo cup against his. “To beer!”

  She was slightly tipsy.

  Irish grinned at her, his gold tooth making him more pirate than president. But she saw his son in the angles of his face, and she grinned back.

  Okay, maybe more than slightly tipsy.

  “Nobody’s going to be shooting up my house or bombing my brother’s business?” she asked, maybe for the fifth or sixth time. That the crisis was over was just sinking in.

  “The Sons are sending their miscreants across the country to do some hard labor for an affiliate club.” He leaned close to her. “Dobbins and I would have managed to come to a similar solution, but Deuce…well, those pieces-of-shit that went rogue were men he’d brought into the club, so he wanted to solve the problem himself.”

  “But what about Wick and the Feds and the plea agreement on the table…”

  “Dobbins knows they took a risk with the smuggling and the distribution. Some in the club might have to pay, but probably not him or Deuce.”

  Cami sipped at her beer. She’d sort of hoped it was a big misunderstanding and the Sons weren’t an actual criminal operation, but… “I hope Sweet Pea will turn out okay.”

  “Our children survive and thrive even when we parents don’t always get it right.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Eamon was playing pool with Linc. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Caught off guard, Cami sputtered a little. “Um, uh…” She smiled weakly. “Pretty obvious, huh?”

  “You’ll have your work cut out for you, darlin’,” he said. “But stick with him.”

  “Oh.” Oh, God. She shouldn’t be feeding Irish’s obvious hopes. “Um—”

  “After what happened with his mother—” He broke off, narrowing his eyes at her. “I suppose he didn’t tell you what happened. Am I right?”

  All that she should reply passed through her head. I’ll wait for Eamon to say, if and when he wants to. It’s none of my business, since we’re not really an item. Or at the very least, Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.

  But she’d been raised in Hedon Eden, Profligate Paradise, Licentious-landia, where selfishness had been a way of life. So she channeled her inner String Bean Colson and leaned forward.

  “No, Eamon hasn’t shared that with me.” Then she took a breath, preparing to learn the key to unlocking the man who’d been her mysterious stranger, sexy lover, and concerned protector.

  It was a horror story, actually. At fourteen, Eamon had been home with his mother when a rival MC came to the house looking for Irish to settle a score. At the same moment, some of the Unrulies had arrived on scene, and a shoot-out occurred. Members of the other club had stormed the house, and while Eamon was trying to get his mother out the back door, shots had hit Samantha Rooney, once in the chest and once in the abdomen.

  “She survived, but our marriage didn’t,” Irish said, his eyes bereft as he stared into the distance. “And to repay her for her pain and for her scars, I promised I wouldn’t bring our boy into my club.”

  Cami swallowed. “Eamon wasn’t hurt?”

  Irish shifted his gaze to her. “Not in the way you mean. But some part of him feels he failed to save his mother that day and it’s why he was expelled from the MC.”

  “But—”

  “I know, darlin’. And I’ve tried to explain a hundred times. Still, when that terrible helplessness happens to a boy like Eamon, it stays deep inside the man. It keeps him from making ties, keeps him away from relationships because he’s shit-scared something bad might happen again and he’ll fail once more.”

  Cami didn’t know what to say to that. She pressed the heel of her hand to her head.

  “You’ll be all right,” Irish said kindly. “You don’t seem the sort to run easy, and Eamon values loyalty above all.”

  “His mom wasn’t loyal.” She grimaced, wishing she could snatch back the words.

  Irish patted her hand. “I don’t like to say bad things about Samantha, because she was a good woman caught in a crossfire not of her own making. But yeah, darlin’, she wasn’t loyal to the club or to me. Or to Eamon, either, since she for many years kept him from the family he knew and loved.”

  Her gaze lifted to the man who was no longer so mysterious to her. Eamon Rooney, the love of her life. Whom she now understood would be walking away from her again…and she also now understood why.

  Though the party continued at the Unruly Assassins headquarters, halfway through the evening Eamon bundled a tipsy Cami into his car and headed toward her house. There remained no reason she stay with him in Malibu.

  He glanced over at her, taking in her drowsy features in the glow of passing streetlights. “What is the end of a song called? Not the final note, but—”

  “Coda,” she said in a sleepy voice. “To bring the piece to a satisfactory close.”

  “That’s it,” he murmured. That’s what he had to find tonight. A satisfying ending for them.

  Pulling in front of Cami’s house, he realized she’d fallen asleep.

  “Lightweight,” he murmured, warm affection rolling through him. “Too much beer.” Then he walked around to her side and unfastened her seatbelt to lift her from the passenger seat.

  Her keys were in his pocket, he’d had them because he’d overseen the repairs to her windows and the installation of an alarm system. Letting them both inside, he set her on her feet, bracing her against his body as he keyed in the passcode.

  She roused. “What?” Her head turned and she blinked at the control panel and its pattern of flickering lights. “What did you do?”

  “Armed your house. You need to learn how to unset and set the system.”

  One of her small hands had curled into his shirt to keep her upright. “I can’t remember instructions now.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I suppose not. Why don’t you take a shower? Sober up. I’ll be right here when you get out.”

  She stumbled off, weaving a little down the hallway. He took the time to call Ren and Payne, informing them the threat to their sister was neutralized.

  “You believe that?” Ren demanded.

  He had to field the same question from Payne.

  “I do,” he assured them both. “The Sons won’t bother her again.”

  She’d assured that mostly herself by her rapport with Sweet Pea and Spoon. The memory made him shake his head and grin.

  Seeing her interacting with the little kid had given
him a glimpse of her future. A bright future for his a ghrá geal. He wished it for her with everything he had.

  “Eamon?”

  He looked up, and his chest seized. She stood in the space between the living area and the hall, dressed in a pale yellow terry robe that hung past her knees. Her wet hair waved around her shoulders, and her cheeks and lips were flushed from the hot water.

  Jumping to his feet, he hurried to her. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” Her expression turned sheepish. “That beer…”

  “Yeah.” He brushed her hair off her cheek. “Can I make you some tea?”

  “Show me how to work the alarm first.”

  They moved to the panel. He gave succinct instructions.

  But she still knuckled her eyes like a fretful child. “I’m feeling stupid.”

  “You’re not that at all. It’s been a big day, followed by several beers.”

  “Hoppy beers,” she said, frowning.

  His lips twitched. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the system figured out. And I’ll write it all down.” He took her hand. “But now, kitchen. Tea.”

  There had been pizza at the party and she claimed not to be hungry, but he found some graham crackers in a box, still fresh enough inside their wax paper package. She nibbled on the corner of one while sipping at the mug of strong tea he’d brewed.

  Then she set the drink aside and pushed herself up from the table, looking more alert. “Show me again how the alarm works.”

  This time as they stood in front of the panel, she quickly caught on.

  “Okay.” Cami nodded. “But you’ll still write down the instructions?”

  “There’s an official set, but I’ll also put together the Cliff’s Notes version.”

  She turned to face him, the wall at her back, their chests close. He breathed in the combination of her shampoo and soap and felt his chest constrict again. How could he ever let her go?

  Following the coda, he told himself, firming his resolve. After the satisfactory ending you’ll leave.

  “Thanks,” Cami said, then reached up to brush his cheekbone. “Your black eye’s looking better.”

  He half-smiled. “You should see the other guy.” Then he thumbed the faint blue mark on her temple. “Does this hurt?”

  “Not at all.”

  Still, even that slight shadow on her flesh made his stomach churn. His hand lingered there. “I hate that I brought danger into your world. That it touched you.”

  She wrapped his wrist with her fingers. “You had nothing to do with the men who came to the compound. That’s who bruised me.”

  “In any case, I want to thank you for letting me into your life again…for letting me do what I could to keep you safe.”

  “As if I had much choice,” she teased. “What with your domineering ways.”

  “About them…”

  The smile on her face died. Her incredible eyes, the green of shallow ocean water in sunlight, widened. The hitch in her breathing communicated she understood where he was going with this.

  Coda. The satisfactory ending.

  “Eamon—”

  He kissed her, his fists gripping the lapels of her robe and drawing her up on her toes so he could drink in her taste. Her hands went to his waist, held tight.

  Lifting his head, he studied her face for her reaction to his implied suggestion.

  “Cami…” he whispered, seeing the answer in the unguarded expression on her face.

  It was her best look, the one that dug deep into him, her vulnerability on display.

  Her trust in him evident.

  “Are you going to let me be with you tonight?” he asked, his voice a rumble. Though he read the surrender on her face, he wanted to hear her say the words.

  “One more for the road?” she said lightly. “I guess… I guess I don’t hate the idea.”

  His fingers tightened on the cloth of her robe, and he drew her up again, so they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Be serious,” he said. “Be sure.”

  She stilled, and he knew she was now certain of his intent. What he was asking her for wasn’t a final fun fuck, but something else. Something she’d needed before, and that he’d guessed and given to her.

  A tremor wracked her small frame and her eyes closed, a flush blooming on her cheeks. “Oh,” she said, the word ending in the breathiest of moans.

  His sweet girl.

  He touched his mouth to hers, then turned her around. She led the way to the bedroom, her fingers curled around his. Each step tightened the heated coil in his belly, and his cock throbbed in time with his fierce heartbeat. At the door to her room, she paused, and they both looked to the far corner, where a small light glowed low and warm. It seemed to shyly illuminate the bed, a feminine thing of wrought iron with a gauzy canopy overhead. The first time he’d seen those sweeps of fabric, he’d thought they told him everything he needed to know about how Cami dreamed of sex—soft, slow, and with cinematic flourishes.

  But now, instead of seeing the romantic draping, he focused on the sturdy foundations of the bed. The four graceful but strong posters. The turned shafts of iron, eight inches apart and sixteen inches high, that made up the headboard.

  He stroked Cami’s drying hair, his body so close to hers that her every tremble echoed in his own. Her nerves only ratcheted up his excitement, aware that her own was rampant.

  Leaning over her shoulder, he pushed aside a lock of hair to place a wet kiss on the side of her neck. These moments of anticipation belonged to her. She set the pace until they crossed the threshold.

  Her hand reached behind her to find his cheek, and she petted him there as he continued to explore the smooth, fragrant skin of her throat.

  “Gwen,” she said, her voice husky. “Did I ever tell you?”

  He made an encouraging sound, ran his lips to her ear to nuzzle behind it.

  “She had so many cautions. I don’t know how she was with Cilla, but she filled my head with warnings about men…about what might happen.”

  Lifting his head, he kissed the edge of her cheekbone. “Trying to keep you away from those parties.”

  “I suppose.” She turned to face him. “So when I left the compound, well, I remembered everything she told me. I was very…prudent.”

  He smiled, flicked the end of her nose with his finger. “You mean prudish.”

  She glanced down, her lashes concealing her eyes, but then her gaze lifted to meet his again. “Then you came along…and I threw myself into the abyss.”

  His hands slid to her waist and took a possessive grip. It wasn’t that he hadn’t held his suspicions early on, but to hear her admit that letting him have his way had not been her way with previous men…

  Everything about her was a gift he didn’t deserve. But that he’d take tonight.

  And give, too, of course.

  “So, a ghrá, once more unto the breach?”

  Instead of laughing like he thought she might, she took a deep breath and stepped backward, pulling him with her.

  Over the threshold.

  Into the realm that belonged to just the two of them…She was his fairy and he was the mortal who’d captured her—the man who’d earned his opportunity to have her, if only for one night.

  At the bed, he threw back the coverlet to reveal the white, lace-edged sheets and pillowcases. The sweet scent he would always associate with Cami rose like a seductive whisper in the air. He glanced at her, noting the tense set of her shoulders and the two upper teeth pressed into the pillow of her lower lip.

  “You look more nervous than when you’re about to go on stage.” He pushed her hair off her forehead. “Definitely more jumpy than when you met Irish for the first time.”

  She smiled. Shrugged.

  “It’s only me,” he said.

  Now she laughed. “Only you. Yes.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the bed, the wrought iron that he’d bind her to. The first time he’d gathered her wrists in one hand and pushed
them above her head had been on those sheets. She’d gasped, stilling beneath his weight, then squirming in his hold. When he’d tightened his grip, she’d moaned.

  And he’d known what he’d found.

  Sometime later, he’d bought restraints and presented them to her as gifts, satiny pieces in pretty colors and then a more substantial leather set in black. She kept them all in her lingerie drawer, nestled with her underthings along with tiny pillows of fragrant flower petals.

  They lay only a few steps away.

  Tonight, he didn’t have that kind of time. One more for the road.

  Or that kind of patience.

  His fingers went to the sash at her waist. Holding her gaze with his own, he loosened the knot then pulled the fabric free of the loops.

  “On the bed,” he said against her mouth.

  Her lips clung for a second longer, then she turned. As she climbed onto the mattress, he caught the cloth of the robe, drawing it from her perfect body. He stared at the curve of her ass and the dark cleft between the peach of her cheeks until she turned to arrange herself on the sheets.

  His fingers squeezed the sash, and he breathed deeply, grasping for control when part of him wanted to jump on her, rut on her, take them both to climax as fast as possible.

  Then, with a deep breath, she placed one arm over her head.

  With sure moves, he stepped forward and used the terry fabric to bind one wrist to the headboard. Not too tight, maybe even looser than other times, but he liked her body to have some play when she struggled in the bonds.

  Because she would struggle in the bonds.

  Then his hands went to the buckle of his belt. She watched him, her breasts rising and falling with her unsteady breaths. Her thighs were tense, not an inch showing between them. Her legs quivered as the hiss of leather against denim sounded loud in the quiet.

  Rounding the end of the bed, he rubbed his cock with the heel of his hand, pushing hard into the throbbing ache. Cami moaned, and when he reached the other side he rewarded her by kissing the heart of her palm before securing her other wrist, using the belt to attach her to the metal.

  Then, leaning over her bound body, he kissed her soft mouth, driving inside it with his tongue, aggressive and domineering, even though no other part of him touched her. When he straightened, her chest heaved and her mouth looked swollen.