Rough & Raw (Notorious Devils Book 2) (4 page)

We talked about getting a place of our own one day, away from town, away from everybody. A place where we could cocoon ourselves in our own little world. I know she’s recalling our dream as she takes in the surroundings.

“I ain’t done much to the inside. We’ll have to get a bed for the princess and some shit like that. I don’t have much furniture or anything. It’s a blank canvas for you, Brent,” I mutter.

She stays silent as she walks inside of the living room. I chance a look back at her and watch as tears stream down her face. I make my way over to her and cup her cheek with my hand.

“Brentlee,” I mutter. She sucks in her bottom lip.

“It’s so perfect, Bates. It’s everything we ever talked about. I ruined my whole life and here you are, living your dream,” she sobs.

I want to hug her, but I don’t. Affection isn’t something I’ve handed out a lot since I left her. Instead, I look down at her before I speak.

“It made me think of you, Brent. That’s why I bought it. Everything I do is for you,” I murmur.

“Mama, don’t cwy,” the little voice at my knees says.

“I’m okay, honey. They’re happy tears,” she says, stepping away from me and wiping her eyes before leaning down to be at Stella’s level.

“What do you say to Mr. Bates for letting us stay here with him?” she asks.

The little girl looks up at me, scrunching her turned up nose. “Do I get my own room?” Stella asks. I hold back a laugh, nodding. “With Elsa sheets?”

“Stella!” Brentlee scolds.

“You want Elsa sheets, princess? Whatever they are, they’re yours, pretty girl,” I offer, watching as she rewards me with a huge, beaming, beautiful smile—a smile that looks exactly like her mama’s.

“Bates,” Brentlee murmurs. I step in her space, my body almost touching hers.

“Think she’ll be goin’ through enough shit, Brent. She wants some fuckin’ Elsa sheets, she can have ‘em,” I inform her.

I watch as Brent sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck,
I want that lip in my own mouth. I need to get away from her before I fuck her into next week right in front of her daughter.

Instead of fucking her like I want, I show them the place. It isn’t much, more like completely bare, but its mine. I hope that it’s good enough for Brentlee.

I drove by the house she shared with her husband and it was big and perfect on the outside. This little place isn’t perfect, never will be, but I hope she can be happy here with me.

“It’s untainted, untarnished, and better than I could have ever imagined,” Brentlee says softly as she wraps her hand around my forearm. “This whole place feels like a home.”

I tell the girls to relax and take a nap while I set up delivery of a bed for Stella. In all honesty, I need some fuckin’ time to myself.

I hate that they’ve gone through hell, but I don’t deny that a part of me is fuckin’ pleased as shit they are now here.

Soon, they’ll both me mine, too.

Brentlee

T
his can’t be real.

It has to be a dream.

I hold Stella in my arms as she drifts off to sleep in Bates’ queen sized bed. I close my eyes, imagining that if he were in here with me, he’d have to hold me close. He’d practically be on top of me just to fit in it together. I suppress the shiver that threatens to roll through my body.

He looks good, too.
Damn good.

The love of my life just strolled in and saved me.

Bates Lukin
. The man of my dreams.

I’ve just turned my life completely upside down, leaving everything I know, all of my familiarity and my family. I’m running away from my husband and my parents; running and hiding, and so damn scared.

I know that leaving Scotty wasn’t a mistake, I’ll never think that it was, but I don’t know how I’m going to provide for my daughter, or what will happen in the next hour, let alone next week or next year.

My heart feels like it’s beating a thousand miles a minute, and Bates, oh god,
Bates
. He’s here to watch my fall, the crash and burn of my life. He’s the one to help pick up my pieces.

I can’t let myself fall for him.

Having him and losing him again would kill me.

Completely decimate me.

I’ll take the help, because I would be a fool to turn it down. I’m too desperate for that, and my daughter means too much to me to refuse it. I also can’t put my sister and her children in danger. So this—I’ll take this help he’s offering, but nothing else.

I can’t think about his huge body; how his arms bulge with muscles I have yet to see; how his solid chest fills out his tight t-shirt, or how absolutely huge his legs look. I can’t think about how firm his ass is, or how his beard would feel caressing my body.

I
definitely
can’t think about his lips and how I already know what they feel like on my entire body.

Nope
.

I can’t think about him at all.

Not like that.

Not ever.

“Babe.” A voice startles me from my sleep and I sit straight up, completely disoriented for a moment before my eyes land on the hazel ones of Bates.

I quickly look down at Stella, who is sprawled out asleep on the bed. I quietly slide out from between the sheets and quickly walk toward the door, squeezing past Bates, who gently closes the bedroom door behind me.

“What’s up?” I ask, my voice scratchy from sleep.

“I, uh, I got a twin mattress, headboard and footboard comin’. It had a matching dresser and nightstand, so I got that, too. It’ll be here in about thirty minutes. Then we can go and get her sheets and shit,” he informs me. I blink once.

“Where am I going to sleep? I thought we would be sharing a bed?” I ask, completely confused. I can’t even process what he’s said about the dresser and nightstand.

“You’ll be in my bed, Brent, where you belong,” Bates announces. I stare at him, slack jawed.

“Are you
crazy
?” I hiss.

“You walked back into my life and I’m not letting you go, Brentlee. You’re mine. You’ve been mine since you were fourteen years old,” he informs. It floors me.

What the hell?

“You
are
crazy. I’m not going from one crazy man to another.”

Bates growls and wraps his hand around the back of my neck. His sudden move makes me flinch and I downcast my eyes in an automatic response.

“Look at me,” he commands.

Bates’ voice is deep and low, his hand still around the back of my neck, and his chest now pressed against mine. I can feel his hard body touching every part of me.

“Your mine. I’ll never lay a hand on you, Brent. I’ll never hurt you like he did.
Ever
. I’ll take care of you, the way I was always meant to. I ain’t gonna fuck you tonight, or even tomorrow, but know that I will. We’ll be together, eventually, and we’ll be happy. Just gotta get you to good again,
tigritsa
,” he murmurs as his fingers massage the back of my neck.

Tigress
.

I haven’t been a tigress in years—too many years.

“I am not a tigress anymore.” I say the words in a whisper, unable to recall the girl that he used to call his
tigritsa
.

“You will be, Brent. You will be again. If I have to kill myself to make you that strong woman, I will. You will always be my
tigritsa
. Always,” he says, his eyes pinned on mine, and his lips mere inches from my mouth.

I want him to
kiss
me, to
touch
me, to
own
me again. But I can’t let him. It would be a disaster, and I can’t allow myself to be hurt anymore.
I’m done
. I’m done with men and I’m done being hurt.

A knock on the door has me jumping out of his arms. Bates doesn’t say a word. He smiles before he walks over to the front door, then checks the peephole before pulling it open. My eyes widen when I see a group of three men in matching leather vests standing on the porch.

“Hey, Brentlee,” Johnny Williams says with a grin.

I haven’t seen him in years. He looks good, really good. I slept with him once, when I was in high school. By the look in his eyes, I can tell he hasn’t forgotten. His gaze drags down my body and he licks his bottom lip before Bates steps right in front of him.

“We gonna have a problem, brother?” he asks Johnny.

“You claimin’ her?” Johnny asks.

I wish I could see their faces, but Bates’ back is to me and standing directly in front of Johnny. His mass covers Johnny’s entire body.

“Yeah, she’s mine, so keep your fuckin’ eyes to your goddamn self,” Bates says. I suck in a breath.
His
. What does that even mean? I can’t be and I won’t be.

“Better patch her ass if you know what’s good for you, then. Lotta brothers would like inside there,” Johnny laughs. I close my eyes tightly.

I should be disgusted by his words; I should be offended, but I’m not. He remembers me the way I was after Bates left me—he remembers the
slut
.

“Just unload the fuckin’ truck,” Bates growls before turning to me. “You stay away from him,” he grunts, his eyes focused on mine.

I don’t tell him the truth. I don’t tell him that after he left, I gave myself to anyone and everyone for years. The whore of Bonners Ferry High, until Scotty came around.

I quietly move to the corner of the living room as the men start bringing furniture in. My mouth falls open at the sight of the all-white dresser, nightstand, and bed. It’s beautiful, and it’s so fitting for my little Stella. It all looks brand new, too.

I can’t believe this man.

I choke back tears as the men set the furniture up and then quietly leave. Bates informed them that Stella was still napping, so they were virtually soundless. I didn’t know four big ass bikers could
be
so quiet.

Once the men leave, I follow Bates back into the bedroom.

It is so dainty and feminine. Perfect for my little baby girl.

“Bates,” I gasp before I turn to face him. “It’s lovely.”

“Anything for you two. Whatever I can give you, I will,” he mutters, stepping closer to me.

I hold my breath as his finger trails my tear tracks. I can’t stop myself from crying. It’s all too much. The house of my dreams, the man of my dreams, and he’s giving my daughter something that’s beautiful—a space to call her own and something pretty in the midst of all the ugliness surrounding us.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper as my eyes search his, finding nothing but that sweet adoration that I don’t deserve shining in them.

“Don’t say anything,” he shrugs.

“Bates, you’re doing so much for us, and you don’t have to.”

“You’re LeeLee’s sister, my president’s sister-in-law, and you’re mine,” he smirks, as if it explains everything he’s just done for Stella and me.

“I’ll repay you, I swear,” I offer.

“I don’t want money,” he grins.

“What do you want, then?”

“Say you’ll be mine again, one day. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day. Don’t give up on there being an
us
again just because you married that asshole,” he says softly.

The gruffness of earlier is gone and only sweet, soft, murmured words surround me. I want to forget about everything and be that woman for him, that girl that I was, but that’s not possible.

“I’m not giving up on you. I don’t want anybody right now. Maybe not for a long time. I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet, not just for me, but for Stella, too,” I explain.

Bates nods once before he leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. His lips are warm and the contact comforting.

“Mama,” Stella’s little voice breaks through our tender moment and I step away from Bates to see her walking toward me, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. I scoop her up and cuddle her close for a moment, relishing in the feel of her sweetness.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask as she tucks her face into my neck, a move she’s done since she was a tiny baby. A move I love.

“Long nap,” she mumbles. I laugh softly.

“Did you see your new room?” I ask. Her head pops up, her curly blonde hair bouncing as her head moves from side-to-side, taking in the space.

“It so pwetty. Elsa sheets,” she squeals. I can’t help but smile, and I turn to Bates, who’s lips are tipped in a smirk as he looks on at Stella’s excitement.

“Let’s get you to the store for these damn sheets,
malyshka
,” Bates chuckles.

I watch as my daughter beams up at him with her dimpled smile. He’s already won her over with just the promise of sheets.

“What does it mean?” I ask after I send Stella to the bathroom and start to gather my things to leave.

“Baby girl, little girl,” he states, grabbing his phone and keys.

I had forgotten this about him. Bates’ father is Russian. Though Bates himself doesn’t speak fluently, he knows a few words. I was always his
tigritsa,
his tigress. Now my daughter,
malyshka
, baby girl. It warms a part of my heart. I don’t want it to, but it does, and he knows it.

He knows how his whispered words in Russian affect me. No woman in her right mind could ignore
that
.

Once Stella is out of the restroom, we leave. I’m afraid to be seen in public. Our town is small,
miniscule,
and if Scotty doesn’t see me himself—someone he knows will.