“Bullshit.”
“Every fucking day’s a struggle, Trip.”
“And you keep wakin’ up. That right there takes strength.”
Holy shit. He needed to remain a complete asshole and not say stuff like that. Otherwise, he’d easily chip away at the armor she wore to keep him at bay.
But him paying the outstanding bills, telling her he’d have her back, reminding her how strong she used to be...
Giving her the hope she could be that strong again.
Like he was doing with the club, she needed to rise up and grab life by the balls.
“Whatever the fuck it was that drove you to crumble the other night didn’t crush you. Don’t know what the fuck it is or was, but know it wasn’t just the bar. Got your fuckin’ back, Stella, to fight whatever haunts you.”
No. She couldn’t rely on someone else to do it for her.
She needed to do it herself.
She needed to dig deep and pull herself out of the depths of despair. To find the sun behind those dark clouds.
And if the pressure of making the bar successful wasn’t weighing so heavily on her, if she had help with relieving some of that weight, maybe she could do just that. Fill that hollowness inside her with something other than sorrow and regret.
The only solution that was realistic was letting Trip help her and to stop fighting it.
But it scared her. The knowledge he wanted so much more than to just help her.
He wanted all of her. And she wasn’t sure if she could ever give him that.
She was born into a club where the females were put into boxes.
Ol’ ladies, where they became a member’s main bitch. She couldn’t even say the brothers’ one and only, because she’d seen with her own eyes that wasn’t true. Faithfulness was lacking.
Sweet butts, the so-called patch whores, who did whatever wherever with whomever. If one of the brothers wanted head, she dropped to her knees and gave him head. If they wanted to gang bang her, she spread her legs and let them take their turns. Otherwise, if she didn’t do what one of the patched members asked, she was either banned from the club or worse.
The house mouse, usually a female underage or barely of legal age, used to take care of a member’s domestic needs in every way but sexual. But Stella wondered now how many of the teenagers and young women she remembered had been getting used in more ways than was expected.
The backpacks. Usually the occasional hang-arounds. A female hoping to get her claws into one of the patched bikers. Or a female allowed to come along for one of the club runs but she didn’t belong to one biker. She was only a toy for the day.
She was thankful her mother had taken her away not long after Trip cracked her head open. Because if she had stayed...
She might have ended up in one of those boxes.
Now Trip wanted to put her in one. He never said the words ol’ lady and if he wanted her to stand by his side, she had no idea to what extent. An ol’ lady usually had no power within an MC. No females did. Worse, they usually stood behind their man, not next to him.
Women in an MC were nothing but property. And the men did with them what they wanted.
Why women volunteered for that shit, accepted it willingly, she’d never know. Why her mother did? The answer, when she had asked, was her mother loved her father. And she said Pete treated her well. But that didn’t add up since her mother grabbed Stella and escaped Manning Grove during all the turmoil. If her mother loved her father, why would she just leave?
She never got that answer no matter how many times she’d asked it. And Stella’s only guess was to save herself and her daughter from the violence that was sweeping through the club.
Why her father and mother didn’t reconnect later when the dust had settled...
Again, another question that had gone unanswered. And would forever be a mystery.
“Stella.” Trip’s deep voice saying her name brought her back to his kitchen.
And her current situation.
Which was Trip’s long fingers curled around the side of her neck, his thumb pressing under her jaw as he searched her face. She wondered what she’d revealed while she was lost in thought.
Whatever it was had etched concern on his face.
In one way, he could make her life so much easier.
In another, he could make it so much harder.
To get the first, she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid the second.
Especially when he dropped his head and once again took her mouth in a crushing kiss.
Chapter Nine
He wanted to throw her over the table, pound her from behind like he did at the bar the other night. But then, he also wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs and eat her pussy out until she came all over his face.