Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 49

Ezra

Wren and Quincy's jaw drops.

"What the hell happened to both of you?" Wren gasps.

Quincy is all over Ray, touching his face but Wren...she stands, stares at me, then sits back down.

My lips twitch because I know she wants to come to me. She wants to tilt my face this way and that, and scold me.

"We got into a little fight," I answer Wren's question.

She raises a brow. "With each other?"

I give a small shoulder lift and she glares.

Now that I think about it, she doesn't have to speak to scold me. Her eyes alone say all the things she wants to.

"I promised I'll bring Ray to you, Quincy." I smile at her, and she pouts. "Wren and I need to get going."

At that, Wren steps to her brother and he hugs her.

"I'm fine, Chirp. Promise." He squeezes her a little tighter, and she wheezes playfully.

We say our goodbyes to Ray and Quincy before leaving.

"Come here." I pull her down on my thighs, wincing when she mistakenly presses into the cut on my lip.

She gasps, settling down with legs on either side of me.

"This is not the time," she warns with a playful glare. "Look at you, what did you even fight about?"

My hand tightens on her waist as she dabs at my lips and jaw.

We'd come home a few minutes ago, and I didn't have the time to get out of my clothes when Wren dragged me into her bathroom and began inspecting my face.

"He thought I lied about...Tristan. I didn't like the subtle accusation."

She pauses, lifting a brow. "But did you kill him?"

"Not you too," I groan.

"I mean, can you blame us? Have you met you?"

"And what does that mean?"

Her hands flail around as she explains. "You're like this big, macho dude, intimidating as fuck with tattoos all over your body. Annnddd..." she pinches her lips together.

I frown. "And what?"

"And you always threaten to kill everyone!"

"I absolutely do not," I defend. "Have I ever threatened to kill you? On the contrary, you have threatened to kill me countless times."

She laughs loudly, carefree. Her head tosses back, hands splayed on my chest.

A smile cracks on my lips as I watch her feel so free, eyes bright, and shining.

"I don't." She giggles.

My eyes narrow at her, and she goes into another fit of giggles.

"If I did though," she manages to wheeze out, "then you probably deserved it."

"I did, didn't I?"

My hands slide down the curve of her ass, and her laughter comes to an abrupt stop when I give her a little spank.

She tenses, scolding me. "I'm trying to clean you up!"

"You're being naughty." I raise my brows.

"I can't believe you right now. Take your hands off me."

My jaw drops. Absolutely not.

"Okay fine, I'm not doing anything again, we're all good now."

"Still take them off, they're distracting," she huffs, a blush creeping across her neck and cheeks.

Jesus, she's something else.

Beautiful, irrevocably enchanting, captivating... drop-dead gorgeous.

And I hope for fucks sake, we don't get caught. Because I've picked my option, and the first will definitely NOT be possible.

"I can't keep my hands off you, Birdie, nor my eyes."

The words spill from my lips without my permission, and I squeeze for emphasis.

She stiffens, biting her lip. "You don't say things like that when I'm still mad at you."

"You're mad at me?" I tilt my head with a frown. "Why?"

"Well, not mad...but you do owe me an explanation."

My brain works through the events of the day, and I come up empty. "What explanation?"

She disposes the last of the cotton swabs and moves to get up, but my grip doesn't lessen.

She sits back down.

"What explanation, Birdie?"

"You want to have it like this?"

My lips curve, and I nod. "Yes. And after that, I'm going to fuck you in this bathroom—"

"Ezra!" She smacks my chest, eyes wide.

A tomato can't compare to how red she's gotten. And I can't help the chuckle that falls from my lips.

She moves around my thighs, rubbing on my semi. That's all it takes for me to be as hard as a fucking rock.

I squeeze her waist.

"Keep moving like that, Birdie," I rasp, "and we'll just have to skip the explanation till after I take you on every single surface in this bathroom."

Her lips fall open in both shock and desire. I can see her mind picturing it, but nothing can compare to what I want to do to her.

"Shut up." The reprimand is weak, but she stops moving.

I'm a little disappointed.

"What did you want to know?"

"Hannah," she says. "She's your daughter. How come?"

My face turns mockingly serious. "So you see, when a man and a woman get entangled emotionally, sometimes just physically, it leads to what we call sex. And when a man and woman have sex, a baby—ouch!"

Pain shoots up my chest from where she smacks me.

"Stop playing around!" She glares.

I laugh, and slowly my chuckles come to an end.

A deep sigh leaves my lungs and after a bit of silence, I speak.

"Her mother's name is Diane, and she wasn't ready to be a mom." I shrug.

Wren frowns. "So she just...left?"

"Yea." I nod. "She dropped Hannah off at my door step—the old place I stayed at—when she was only three months old."

"She was such a baby."

"I think it's better that way, though. The only mother figure she's ever known is my sister...and it helps because what she needs is someone who is constant."

"Has she ever asked about her mom?"

"Hannah is a smart little girl," I sigh. "She hasn't, but I know that she knows Elizabeth isn't her mom."

"Because she knows you're siblings."

"Exactly," I chuckle.

"I don't think I can leave my baby behind like that."

"She was young...we were all young, careless, irresponsible," I say, stroking her thighs, "so I wouldn't judge her. It wasn't her fault."

It was mine. And it still is all my fault.

I had ruined everything. Diane's life, Pete's life, and Hannah's.

But I was also hurting, physically and emotionally. Everyone was, and Hannah didn't deserve to be caught in the fire of it.

So, I took her in.

Full of guilt, fear for my life, and wounds that still linger, reminding me every single day of what I destroyed.

I am proof that in a blink of an eye, in a split second of carelessness, everything you've known, the world you've built, the relationships you've made... they can all go up in flames.

Poof!

Just like that.

And all you're left with is survivors' guilt, and scars hidden beneath layers of tattoos.