Thumper (Cerberus MC)

“I feel like I’m insane,” I confess.

He only nods, as if he understands, and we continue to watch each other.

I want to ask him what he sees when he looks at me, but I’m afraid he’ll give power to the voices in my head telling me I’ll always be a victim. It’s what I see when I look in the mirror. It doesn’t matter that the bruises have healed and there are only faint lines around my wrists from the abrasions caused by the ropes. The damage is more internal than anything, and I guess I should be grateful for that. Megan wasn’t as lucky as the rest of us. I’ve tried to reason with myself that it could’ve been worse, but honestly, it never should’ve happened in the first place.

The world is a wicked, cruel place and I’m only one of millions that will suffer from that realization.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, one arm still around my waist holding me close, the other hand moving to my face to brush my hair out of the way.

“That I—”

A gentle knock hits the bedroom door, but before either of us can respond, the door shoves open. His hold on me tightens rather than letting me slide away from him.

My cheeks flame. We weren’t even doing anything that would be considered inappropriate. Hell, there are still two blankets and several layers of clothes between us, but that doesn’t keep the shame from hitting me in the chest, residual guilt from my time in the cult.

“Prez says you’ve pretended to be hurt long enough,” comes a man’s voice at my back. “Meeting in the conference room in thirty minutes.”

The door closes, and I smile when his laughter shakes me.

“Played hurt?” I mutter. “They are aware just how badly you were—”

“They’re the toughest men I know,” he says, his fingers still tangled in my hair, his eyes full of awe. “I’m surprised my reprieve was this long.”

The fingers in my hair tangle further, but it wouldn’t take the pressure he puts on my scalp to make me move my face closer to his. At least I can blame his need for satisfying mine when our lips touch. This kiss is no less electric than the one in the shower yesterday, and my hips roll without thought.

He groans into my mouth, his own body flexing against mine, and right now I hate the decision to climb on top of the covers last night.

Then his lips are gone, and I know I have to look like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing repeatedly at the loss of his.

How is he this restrained? I haven’t been with many other men, but I don’t know a single one of them that would put a stop to the direction this was heading.

“Let’s make a deal?”

I nod without even hearing the rest of it. He laughs again, his teeth digging into the corner of his bottom lip.

“God, you’re so sexy. This fucking red hair is everything my fantasies are made of.”

“You want to pull it?” I ask, my heart kicking up a notch, and for the first time since I woke up, I realize it’s not pounding in a good way. I’ve borne witness to what he’s into, and I don’t know how to tell him I can’t be that person for him.

He shakes his head. “It’s like the sun and cool autumn nights all rolled into one.”

“What’s the deal you mentioned?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I want you to keep those thoughts you were having when your body was just rolling against mine and be right here when I get back.”

“A deal implies we both get something.”

The dirty glint in his eye tells me he’d love nothing more than to give me everything I desire.

Instead of agreeing, I roll off of him and stand beside the bed.

He hisses in pain as he swings the covers back and sits up on the edge of the bed, and I feel like a jerk for lying on him while he was hurting.

“Let me help you.”

“I got it,” he says as he stands. He’s moving better than he was last night, and I don’t have that same fear that he’s going to lean to the side and crash to the floor.

His steps are slow but methodical when he walks to the bathroom unassisted.

When the shower turns on, my mind goes directly where it did last night when he was in the shower, and I have to tug on a sweater and leave the room. If I don’t get out of there, I’m going to end up in there with him again, only this time I know I won’t spend that chance washing his back.

I’m running my hands through my hair as I walk down the hall, smiling at knowing how much he likes it. Many men are fascinated by the color, but I don’t get the feeling that Javier is looking at it as a way to check something off his bucket list like many men I’ve encountered in the past.