Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC 6)

Forever was the unuttered word.

I smiled. “That was a reason, and that’s also a reason for this.” I gestured around the room at the paintings. “There isn’t much to do when people think you’re crazy. I read a lot, but books are always full of other people’s sorrow. I couldn’t live in theirs and my own, not unless I really wanted to cross that threshold of insanity, one I couldn’t come back from. So I ripped my pain out of myself and put it on paper. Then canvas. And it’s just a… habit I’ve continued.”

“This isn’t a fucking habit, Will,” Gage declared fiercely. “This is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. And that’s sayin’ a lot, since I’ve seen you writhing underneath me. Seen you wake up in the sunlight.” He cupped my face. “But these are the broken and ugly pieces of the soul you’ve been brave enough to yank into the light and turn into something.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.

“This is all my pain. How am I going to show it to the world?” I whispered when his lips left mine.

“Take it from someone who knows. The only thing worse than showing your pain to the world is hiding it.”

The truth lingered underneath his words.

He was still hiding his too.

Thirteen

The roaring of the bike chased me up the street as I dawdled past the gallery, spending longer than my allotted three seconds entertaining a fantasy.

But even now I couldn’t just break out of a lifestyle I’d clung to for nigh on a decade. It didn’t work that way. Gage was making me wild, and I loved it, but that didn’t mean I wanted the logical and sensible part of me to die. I wanted to be able to live in harmony with the two sides of myself. Or at least that’s what I was telling myself.

Luckily such thoughts were interrupted with that faraway rumble of the motorcycle that I knew belonged to Gage.

Our connection wasn’t that intense that I could hear a motorcycle and know it was him. No, I knew it was him for other reasons. Primarily because my story had gone to print today.

And I hadn’t even told Gage I’d written it.

Because I was a coward.

And also because I knew he’d not only try to stop me from writing the article, but he’d also try to ‘take care of’ the problem for me. As was his way.

He’d done that with the car. My car. The one he’d fixed and refused to let me pay for. It was somewhat of a fight. Not our first one—our whole fricking relationship was a battle—but our first semi-normal fight. Because regular couples fought about things like money. Not exactly about the man fixing the car the woman crashed and then refusing to let her pay for the repairs, but something similar, surely.

Gage scowled at the check I was trying to hand to him, then folded his arms across his chest, obviously trying to distract me with the flex of his muscles.

It kind of worked.

“Gage,” I huffed, tearing my eyes from his arms and chest. “You’re being ridiculous. This is my car. I pay for the repairs.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re my woman. I fix shit that gets broken. The stuff I don’t break myself, that is.” His voice dripped with delicious darkness.

“Don’t use sex to try and distract me!”

He smirked. “You do it to me all the fuckin’ time. Turnabout’s fair play.”

I glared. “I do not. Name one time I’ve used sex to distract you.”

“Any time you fuckin’ breathe. Any time I inhale and taste your sweet cunt calling to me.”

I clenched my thighs together at his words.

What was I talking about again?

“Gage, just take the money,” I demanded, hating that my voice was now husky.

“No.”

I stared at him.

He stared back. “You know I’m not gonna be the one who blinks first here.”

Crap. He was right.

“Okay, you might blink first, but I’m also dedicated to my decisions. And I will stuff this money in your jacket. Into the saddlebags of your bike. I’ll make sure it gets to you. You know it.”

He glared at me. “You’re fuckin’ frustrating, Will.”

I smiled.

Hand still outstretched, he snatched the envelope off me.

But then he yanked me onto his knee while he sat on the sofa. My core pulsated with exact and intimate knowledge of what he was about to do. My bare skin kissed the air as he yanked my skirt up, exposing my ass.

There wasn’t even a pause, a warning.

Gage didn’t do warnings.

A sharp sting erupted on my left cheek moments after a resounding slap echoed in my ears and inside my pussy. I moaned in both pain and pleasure, clenching my thighs together, fighting the orgasm that was already building.

“You may be able to get what you want this time, but I always get what I want,” he growled as his hand came down again.