“All right, everyone. Grab some plates and form a queue. Dinner is finally served,” Grasshopper yelled.
The men clapped and women paraded from the Clubhouse with salads, pastas, and breads in their arms. I should’ve been helping them, but tonight I permitted a bit of laziness—after all, it meant Arthur and I finally got to enjoy something so simplistically precious.
Someone switched on a radio, turning the cicada-laced air into a jive of sixties music.
“Come on. Let’s eat.” Arthur guided me forward and together we joined our new family.
Chapter Twenty
Kill
Why was it that people seemed the happiest on the cusp of disaster?
It was like clockwork.
My mom had been happiest before her cancer diagnosis. Thorn had been happiest before my father decided he had to be removed. Even I’d been at my happiest just before my life ended.
Cleo made me happy.
But ultimately, she was the one who made me want to die. —Kill, age eighteen
Sitting in the darkness with my brothers and sisters around me granted the same kind of happiness I’d seen infect others. It was dangerous. This type of joy made people lazy. Unaware. Close-minded.
Happiness was a drug. The strongest of all because it made life seem friendly, open, and kind.
That was bullshit.
I’d forgotten that lesson when I was younger. Believing that everything would work out and my dreams would come true.
And I’d paid the price.
I’d paid the price for my blindness and almost sacrificed everything to despair.
So, even though I wanted more than anything to believe in the happiness spread before me. To open up my heart to the warmth. To bask in the glow of companionship …
I couldn’t.
Wallstreet was still in jail. My father was still alive. And the world was still the same stinking pile of corruption and lies it’d always been.
Until those three things changed, I had no space for intoxication on dreams and fantasy.
Only once I’d achieved what I promised could I find any hope in trusting again. Only once I’d eradicated the lies and treachery could I be free. And only once I’d put into place something so much bigger than myself could I stop chasing that ever-elusive more.
Then … perhaps—just fucking perhaps—I’d let myself be happy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cleo
Arthur had made me promise something strange.
He’d stopped marking my homework and went silent for ages. I thought he’d leave, but he’d stolen my hand and made me promise that I would run away with him. I knew his family was cruel, but this was our home. Only, he didn’t feel that way. He said we were dying slowly—being strangled by lies. I didn’t agree, but what could I do? He needed me … so, I’d promised. I’d promised that I would run when he told me to. —Cleo, diary entry, age fourteen
Early evening turned into early morning.
The cicadas had retired, the radio continued its scratchy tunes, and the jokes became sloppy and crude.
However, I’d never had such a good time. Never been so relaxed and contented.
With my foster family, I’d always held back at gatherings or parties—afraid of forgetting something important or saying something wrong. No matter how much Corrine made me laugh, I’d never really made peace with the emptiness inside. I’d tried filling the amnesia-hole with new thoughts, but it was bottomless … devouring everything, throbbing with urgency to have me jump into the pit and remember.
However, there was one thing shadowing the ease and pleasure of the evening. The sense that this wasn’t just a bonfire to bond and gossip, but to hang out one last time before war broke out.
In the past few days, I’d been kidnapped, Arthur wounded, and the house broken into. That wouldn’t go unpunished. We were all on the precipice of something huge and it added a strange edge to the celebrations.
Could this gathering be the last time everyone was alive? Could this be the last time I witnessed Pure Corruption as a whole?
Arthur stared into the fire, his green eyes slightly unfocused as he relived things I could only guess. I slinked my arms around the back of his neck. “You okay?” I’d been on his lap for hours, my back nestled against his front, cocooned by his heat and smell.
He nodded, pressing his lips against my shoulder. “Never better.”
Pushing away my morbid thoughts, I sighed with contentedness. More time passed; we stayed poised in nothingness, hypnotized by the fire, and rocked into a lullaby of safety and serenity.
“What are you thinking about?” Arthur asked softly.
I smiled lazily, surveying the churned grass, discarded napkins, and strewn bottles around the roaring open fire. The majority of men were drunk. In fact, so were the women. But there was no aura of violence or suspicion like the occasional functions at Dagger Rose. No jealousy or resentment.
I just hope they all survive whatever is coming.
“I’m thinking how happy I am. Here with you.” Twisting on his lap, I pressed my mouth against his in a tender kiss. “I missed you so much, Art.”
His eyes shot to a dark green as lust sprang strong. “I missed you, too.”
The buzz in my blood from alcohol layered my vision with a romantic haze as I turned my attention back to the gathering. Chairs had been pulled from the tables and ringed around the large fire. Women perched on their men’s knees, their arms—bare in the Florida heat—draped over them. Affection was visible: pink strands joining ruffian men with their significant others.
Cuts had been removed and littered the backs of chairs while others puddled on tables. The orange glow of the fire sent stencils over their tattooed skin, marking all of us with its warmth.
“They’re a great group,” Arthur said, lifting his beer to his lips. The sound of him swallowing sent a shiver of need through me. As delicious as it’d been sitting on his lap all evening, eating morsels of barbeque from his fingers, and sharing a plate of dessert, I ached with desire.
Not only was I fascinated by this man but I was also in shock, in love, and most of all in wonderment of him. I needed to have him naked. I needed him above me, inside me, bared to me—so I could finally uncover every facet of who he was.
I need him because all of this … it’s fleeting. We were in the eye of the storm—whipped by unseen winds just waiting to tear our happiness away.
“They have a good leader.” My eyes fell on Grasshopper. He’d entertained us with bad guitar playing, awful lyrics, and terrible ghost stories once we’d all slipped into a food coma around the bonfire.
Now he sat alone.
Unpaired with a woman, he was one of the few single men, sitting in a fumigation of smoke, sucking on a cigar and nursing a beer. His long legs were spread in front of him, the heels of his black boots indenting the dry dirt below. Despite his aloneness, he seemed happy. His gaze was warm and slightly glazed as he took in his Club.
“What’s his story?” I asked, sighing deeper into Arthur’s embrace.
“Hopper?”
I nodded. “Despite being related to the man who sprung you from jail.”
Chuckling, Arthur shuffled me higher on his lap. The warmth of licking flames slowly turned the liquor in my blood into a sedative. The strawberry daiquiris Melanie had concocted subdued noise and light—making everything dreamlike.
“Jared is loyal, loyal, and hardworking.” Arthur finished his beer, placing the empty on the ground. “He’s been with women, but no one ever sticks.”
“Why not? He’s good-looking, well spoken, got a good position.” Not to mention a rich family. Being Wallstreet’s son meant he would inherit a lot. If Wallstreet had hidden away his assets before going to jail, of course.
Arthur shrugged. “At the time, I thought he might have the same issue as me: heartbroken in the past and unwilling to move on.”
“You don’t think that anymore?” I jumped as Arthur’s
fingers spread over my belly possessively.
“No, I don’t think that anymore.”
I bit my lip as his fingers inched downward, teasing the delicate skin above my waistband. Without a word, he popped the button and pushed his large hand past the restriction of my jeans and into my panties.
Oh, God.
“Art, what are you doing?” My eyes grew heavy with need, but the awareness of being on display itched my skin. I tried to halt his hand. “Stop it. They can see.”
Arthur didn’t seem to care, unaffected by my scrambling fingers. “I’m touching you, Buttercup. And I have no intention of stopping.” His cock thickened behind me, his hand hot on my core.
“But—”
“No buts.” His touch dominated my nerves, making me obey.
My head fell back, resting on his shoulder. My hands fell away reluctantly. Every part of me tensed, unwilling to be on show, but unable to fight him.
“Good girl.” He sucked in a breath. “I love it when you give in to me.”
“I’d prefer it if we didn’t have an audience.” I had no choice but to permit his control. However, I couldn’t deny that his possessive hold clenched my tummy.
It’s … intoxicating.
In a weird, naughty way, I liked it—enjoyed showing a secret part of ourselves.
“They’re not watching. Besides, there’s something fucking hot about touching you in public.”
My core rippled, liquefying with desire. I struggled to stay coherent and not drift away with his magic touch. What were we talking about before?
It was an impossible task to carry on conversation, but I tried. “Grasshopper. We were talking about Grasshopper.”
He chuckled, his touch dipping farther. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I really don’t want to talk about Hopper anymore.”
My mouth parted as he rocked his hips into my spine.
“I want to talk about how damn delicious you are.” He licked my throat gently. “In fact, I’d much rather it was my tongue between your legs and not just my hand.”
I gulped. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Who said anything about playing, Buttercup?”
My eyes fluttered closed. The bonfire faded; the gathering disappeared. It was just me and him and tantalizing sensation.
My legs fell open, inviting him to take more. My heartbeat accelerated as I opened my eyes. People might see.
A flush at doing something forbidden made me blurt, “But you said you didn’t think it was heartbreak keeping him alone. I want to know what you think it was.”
I didn’t care—not really. I just couldn’t get too carried away; otherwise we’d end up having sex right there by the fire.
Arthur groaned, “God, you’re determined to distract me.” His thighs bunched beneath me. “Fine, I think he just hasn’t found his best friend yet, that’s all.”
I sucked in a breath as his fingers stretched lower, gracing ever so teasingly over my clit. “A man needs a woman. A man needs to fuck, love, and protect, but he also needs an equal. And you don’t get an equal unless you have respect. And you only get respect if you have friendship.”
My breathing stuttered as Arthur stroked me. “That’s why I was fucked when I thought I’d lost you. You died. You took more than just love away—you took away belonging, home … trust. I’d seen how good a partnership with the right person could be. No fucking way could I settle after you.”
My heartbeat clanged like a church bell, dispelling cobwebs and ghosts, and filling up the hole inside me forever. “You really know how to melt a girl.”
His teeth nipped at my ear. “I’d say you’re melting pretty quickly, Buttercup.” His fingers worked faster. “You’re wet and it’s turning me the fuck on.”
I couldn’t deny I adored him touching me but I couldn’t shed the nervousness of being on display. “We should stop.”
“Why?” His breath was hot on my neck.
“Because people might see.” I peered into the gloom. Members surrounded us, but each was in their own perfect world—consumed by drink, laughter, and friendship. No one looked over—giving the illusion of privacy.
“I don’t care.” Arthur hooked his finger, dragging more pleasure from me. “Let them watch. Let them see how fucking gorgeous you are. How your inked skin flushes and how your scars glitter when you pant.” He buried his nose in my hair. “God, I want to be inside you.”
I moaned.
Somehow, he stole all my inhibitions.
“You’re far too good at loving me,” I groaned, giving myself completely into his power, neither caring people might watch, nor worrying about inappropriate behavior.
Arthur growled, “I’m only good because I’ve fantasized about touching you for eight long years. Every night, I dreamed how I’d push my fingers inside you and make you come. Every morning, I imagined dropping to my knees and making you writhe on my tongue.”
His voice turned deep and raspy. “And now that I can, I can’t help touching you every second of every damn day.”
My hips arched toward his fingers. “I hope you never stop.” The more time I spent in his arms, the more whole I felt. I was no longer hungry for knowledge or harassed by endless questions.
I could live in the moment.
Right here.
Right now.
And not constantly compare it to the past or fret over the future.
I’m home.
Arthur’s finger feathered harder over my clit.
“You said you could never settle after me.” I tilted my head, seeking his mouth. “I know exactly what you mean.” Pressing a kiss on his five o’clock shadow, I tried so hard not to rock against his hand. “We were young, but we knew. The day you helped me back home from falling off my bike, I knew.”
He laughed; the sound quaked through me. His finger decorated my swelling flesh with tiny circles. I clenched with sparkling waves as Arthur became both seducer and pyrotechnic—whenever he touched me, I turned from human to orgasmic fireworks.
His voice was rough and strained. “What we have is so goddamn special. So strong and consuming … but it’s also not unique. We aren’t the only ones who found our significant other.”
His hand moved faster inside my panties, the tip of his finger entering me.
I cried out, scissoring my legs against bliss. “Wait!”
He panted. “I don’t want to wait. Fuck, I never want to wait again now you’re back in my life.” His hand widened my legs, giving me no room to disagree.
“We should move. We should find a dark corner.” Put us out of our misery.
“I agree. I’m so damn hard.”
My heart flew drunkenly. I was entirely caught in his web—wrapped up in lust and fire and seduction.
His voice caught, his thoughts turning dark and dismal. “But to move, I have to let you go. And I never want to do that. You’re mine forever. I know that. You know that. Shit, we knew that when we were kids. But we aren’t the first or the last to find this.”
I frowned, trying to keep up. “What do you mean?” I rolled my hips, despite my shyness, enticing his finger to slide deeper.
Oh, God …
“I mean everyone has someone designed for them, but very few people recognize it before it’s too late.”
I nuzzled into his delicious body. “It was never too late for us. We were never apart. Not really.” My nipples pebbled as he ran the tips of his left hand down my exposed arm. Having him touch me so sensually, surrounded by murmurs, stagnant humid air, and serenaded by the hum of insects, I’d never been more alive.
My skin prickled with heat. I wanted to wriggle out of my jeans and welcome Arthur into my body right here in front of the fire.
“You’re right. We were never apart.” Arthur nibbled my ear. “I think it’s time for us to leave, don’t you?” His finger dived inside me. I couldn’t help it—I moaned.
“Yes. I think leaving would be a very good idea.”
Kissing m
y cheek, his finger withdrew, drawing my wetness over my skin until his hand slinked from my jeans. “Screw goodbyes. We’re sneaking out of here.”
Sitting upright on his lap, I ran shaky hands through my hair. “Okay.” All I could think about was licking, joining, and coming. My eyes rose, locking on to Grasshopper’s.
Tapping ash from his cigar, he tilted his head, a smirk on his lips. The glow of the fire danced over his glossy mohawk and his expression said he’d watched what Arthur had just done.
I blushed, looking away. “Oh, crap.”
“Oh, crap, what?” Arthur asked. His eyes shot to where I’d been staring and a cocky smile spread his lips. “I get it. Horny bugger watched. Well, he knows he can call any woman on his speed dial and get laid tonight if he wishes.”
I narrowed my eyes, risking another look at Hopper. His baby blue gaze spoke of a man who had a lot to give and the intelligence in which to protect what he had.
“Perhaps he should get calling, instead of leering.”
Grasshopper raised his glass in a toast, a chuckle shaking his chest.
Pervert.
Then again, it was us who’d put on the show.
Blushing, I placed my bare feet on the grass. I’d kicked off my shoes a few hours ago and had no idea where they were. I pushed off from Arthur’s lap.
Arthur cleared his throat, his hand trapping my hips. “Give me a second. Fucking hard-on is refusing to deflate.”
I laughed, looking over my shoulder at his crotch. “You started it.”
“I had no choice. Your ass is too fucking perfect in those jeans. I’ve been hard all night thinking of peeling them off you.” His eyes dulled with pain and my desire faded a little.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you think the pain should’ve lessened by now?”
Arthur scowled. “Well, you picked a good subject to make me lose my fucking boner.”
My heart thudded at his sudden temper. “I’m only worried about you.”
“I don’t want you to be worried. There’s nothing to be worried about. Got it?” Breathing hard, he plucked me from his lap and placed me on my feet. I stumbled forward a little, landing straight into Mo’s arms.