Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 86

Wren

I frown. "Is everything okay?"

"Smitties MC," he sighs. "They're so fucking pissed. And their president will be arriving."

"I thought Reggie was the president?" My voice manages to stay calm despite the absolute terror I feel.

What does this mean? For me, for Ray, for Ezra?

We're definitely getting fucked.

Ezra scoffs. "Reggie is too weak and power-hungry to be the president. All he has is bark and no bite."

I raise a brow. "Tell that to the wound on my arm. I bet it's his bark that shot me."

He snorts. "That's not how I meant it."

"It's fine. What are we going to do? Do you know who their president is?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly. But she's a woman."

"A woman!!!"

"Yes. Word has it she's ruthless, merciless. Not one to be toyed with."

My frown deepens. "All this hassle for Tristan? Was he really that good a team player?"

"Exactly my thoughts, Birdie. There's more to this. It feels like a personal vendetta, and you're the target."

"But why would they target me?"

"Think," he says. "Have you offended anyone?"

I pause for a bit, actually thinking things over.

Is it Brittany?

But would she really order a hit out on me? Is that why she left the MC?

Or maybe it's Judi? Because I didn't give her juicy details in time.

The more I think, the more ridiculous my thoughts become. And I huff.

"I don't recall offending anyone that way. I never offended Tristan either," I say. "He's the one who hurt me. I loved him with everything, I mean, we were engaged."

His eyes narrow and he gets up suddenly.

I follow him down to the basement. The very basement that had those pictures on the wall, the basement that had me high-tailing it out of Ezra's house in the first place.

He stares at all the photos on the wall, a marker pen in his hand.

There's a picture of me, taken in front of my childhood home. Beside mine is, Ray's. He's on his motor bike and leather jacket.

And for the first time, our unresemblance hits me. Where my hair is bronde, his is a light brown. Where I have blue eyes, his is almost amber.

I look at Tony's picture, my dad. A full head of brown hair, and brown eyes. Then my mom...a woman who I barely knew before she just up and left.

She's got a hard look in her amber colored eyes, black hair that hits her shoulders.

That's when everything dawns on me. "This woman...she's not my real mom, is she?"

Ezra shrugs. "I have no idea. But you don't look alike."

"Do I look like Ray? Even a tiny bit?"

"Yes," he replies. "You have the same mouth. But...that's all. It wouldn't surprise me that your father had an affair."

It wouldn't surprise me either.

"Ray is your brother," he assures me. "And he's doing a great job. You might not look entirely alike, but he's your big brother."

I sigh, leaning into his side. "I needed to hear that."

"I've got you. Always." He presses his lips to the top of my head.

We stare at the different photos quietly.

"I'm no detective, but what if Tony offended them before he passed?"

"Before you killed him, you mean?"

He stiffens. "Are...are you still upset about that? I don't think I've properly apologized—"

"It's fine. Let's not...let's not reopen old wounds." My lips press together. "You were saying?"

He gives me a long look, and I immediately regret that quip.

"How about I think on it, sniff around," he says. "When I find valid answers, I'll report back to you?"

This is is his way of brushing everything off. Kicking it all to the dust, deflecting.

It's my fault for twisting the arrow though.

"I'm sorry," I apologize. " I shouldn't have said that."

His lips lift only slightly. It looks forced, tight. "You don't have to apologize. You didn't say anything wrong."

"I shouldn't make digs like that especially after I've forgiven you. So, I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

But I know it isn't. Not until I let it all go. It's crazy because I'm not even mad at him, not anymore.

Sighing, I pat his back gently. "I think I'll head up for a nap."

"Oh, okay. I'll walk you—"

"No." I shake my head. "Do your thing."

"Where—will I find you in my bed when I step out?"

I know what he's asking. Do I still need space?

No, I don't. I can't go another second without him.

So, I reply. "Yes. You will find me in your bed."

He lifts my chin, and leans in, gauging my reaction with his eyes.

I huff. "Are you going to kiss me?"

A genuine smile spreads across his face this time, eyes lighting up. "Damn right."

And he does. He ravages my mouth, sucking and biting like he can't get enough.

His hand slides to my bum, and he palms it. I moan, goosebumps scattering across my skin.

"I have missed you," he groans in my mouth, nipping on my neck.

My good hand wraps around his neck, his hard-on pushing against my stomach.

I shudder.

"You know what?" He pulls away. "I think I'm done here for now. Let's head to bed."

A laugh burst out of me. "Ezra! You pervert!"

"Only for you, sweetheart."

And he picks me up, marching up the stairs.

Ezra groans, his damp hair falling in the crook of my neck as he spills inside of me.

I run my hand through the wet locks, chest heaving.

My skin is flushed, and pleasantly bruised.

"You're perfect, do you know that?" He kisses my cheek, and settles his entire weight on me.

I love it by the way. Pressed down into the bed by him, the cool air finally working enough to clear out the thick fog of sex and heat.

My eyes feel heavy, and I shut them briefly.

"We can leave to Beth's tonight," he mumbles, expertly throwing a blanket over us.

"Hm," I hum. "Fine by me."

"Go to bed then, sweetheart. I'll wake you when it's time."

"I love you."

Pushing up on his arms, he strokes his tongue lazily in my mouth. I feel him harden again inside of me, and I sigh, breathy.

"Baby," I whine. "I'm tired."

He chuckles. "I'm sorry. It's what you do to me."

Ezra pulls out of me, and my eyes roll to the back of my head, lips falling open on a soundless moan.

"Fuck, you're still so responsive," he whispers, tone awe-struck. "Let me clean you up."

"Okay."

When he leaves the bed, I close my eyes again. The softness of the bed, and Ezra's scent pulls deeper into the darkness.

The last thing I hear is, "I will never stop loving you, sweetheart."

And the last thing I feel is a warm wash cloth wiping me up.

Christ, I love this man. He's everything. I can't wait for our little vacation.

With that, I succumb to the darkness.