Stalk Her Page 9

  But all I kept thinking about was Poppy, going to her, and really feeling alive. Because without her in my life, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Poppy

  It was late, so late I should’ve been blissfully passed out, but I couldn’t sleep knowing Butcher was out there, knowing what he was doing. Would he be okay? I knew he could handle himself, knew he was even more dangerous than Henry, but the truth was I didn’t know how these things would go. I didn’t know how all of this would end.

  He’d seemed pretty confident that things would go exactly how he planned them, but I couldn’t help but think that something could happen to him. He could get hurt; he could… die.

  And I was surprised at how powerful those emotions came rushing into me at the thought that he might get hurt, at the thought of losing him. We really didn’t know a whole lot about each other, but I knew enough about him. I knew enough about how I felt.

  I knew what I wanted with him, knew I wanted him in my life. He made me feel safe and protected. He made me feel alive and wanted. He made me feel like there was actual… hope.

  I lay back on his bed, smelling him, the scent surrounding me. I closed my eyes and brought the blanket to my nose, inhaling deeply. I could hear music in the main part of the clubhouse, the bass bumping through the walls, almost shaking the pictures that hung on the plaster. And then I heard the sound of vehicles approaching.

  I sat up in bed, my heart racing, my palms sweating. I wanted to leave the room, but I was too afraid, too scared of what I’d see, find. So I just sat there on the edge of the mattress, my feet hanging off the edge, my toes brushing against the cold wooden floor.

  I didn’t know how long I sat there, waiting for him to come in, staring at that bedroom door. But then I heard footsteps, my heart jumping into my throat, everything in me filling with this anticipation, nervousness… excitement. I swallowed as I saw the knob turn, as the door was pushed open.

  And then I saw Butcher’s big body filling up the entryway. Light from behind him made shadows obscure his face, but I knew he was staring at me. I could feel his eyes on me. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, not moving for a moment. But then again, neither was I.

  I was too afraid to say anything, to even breathe.

  I licked my lips and stood then, wanting to go to him, to check on him. But I stayed in place. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t say anything in response, and instead walked toward the bathroom, turning the light on and standing there a second.

  With his back to me, I stared at his leather vest, the patch in the center, the MC logo staring at me almost ominously.

  He didn’t move, and so I took a step toward him, and another, and another. My movements were slow and hesitant, fearful almost. How hurt was he? Did everything go as planned? Was Henry actually… gone?

  “Butcher?” I was only a foot from him now, could smell the cologne coming from him, but the scent that was stronger than even that was blood. It was a coppery, metallic smell that when I inhaled it coated my tongue, tasting like I’d been sucking on a penny. “Butcher?” I said his name even softer this time, lifted my hand and touched his arm. He was tense, his body rock-hard. He turned around then, and with the light now fully surrounding him, I could get a look at his face.

  I gasped at the blood covering his cheeks, splattered on the whiteness of his T-shirt. Not his blood. I knew that without having to ask. I gazed down at his hands, his knuckles battered and bruised, raw and bloody. I thought about how hard he’d have to have been hitting someone for them to be like that.

  “Do you see the monster I am?” His voice was hard and scratchy.

  Maybe I should have been terrified. Maybe I should’ve run away, left right then and there. But instead, I found myself taking a step closer and lifting my hand, placing it right in the center of his chest, right over the splatter of red blood… right over the death of the man who’d watched my mother died.

  “No,” I said softly, maybe too softly for him to hear me. I saw a flicker of something cross over his face, maybe surprise. But he didn’t push me away, didn’t step away from my hold. So I curled my fingers into the material of his shirt and pulled him closer, made him take a step toward me.

  “Poppy….” My name was this harsh whisper from his lips, filled with agony. This man had gone out and taken care of my nightmare, extinguished the flame that would’ve threatened to burn me alive. He’d killed for me. And as I looked into his face, all I felt was love. All I felt was appreciation.

  All I felt was him.

  “I know you want to ask.” His voice was still low, frighteningly so. “Ask me, Poppy. Ask me and I’ll tell you.”

  I didn’t answer for a moment, and although I didn’t need to say the words, because he knew what I was going to ask, what I wanted to know, I needed Butcher to speak them out loud. I wanted to hear that confirmation… feel it.

  So I licked my lips, smoothed my hands down my pants, and took a deep breath in. “Is he gone? Is he dead?”

  Butcher didn’t move, and I didn’t think he even breathed. His expression was stoic, the calm before the storm. And then he exhaled slowly, the scent of liquor on his breath moving along my face.

  “He’s gone, Poppy. And he’ll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again.” He took a step forward and lifted his hands, placing them on my shoulders. He slipped his palms down my arms, along my wrists, and took my hands into his. And then he just held them, looking into my eyes, this gentle side coming out from him despite the fact that he’d just murdered a man and was covered in his blood.

  But I didn’t see any of that. I didn’t see violence or a criminal. I didn’t see a monster or the devil.

  What I saw—who I stared at—was the man I loved.

  * * *

  Butcher

  I held her, just let her body be pressed against mine, the feeling that she had given herself fully to me penetrating my brain.

  I thought about what I’d done tonight, who I’d taken from this world, why I did it.

  For her.

  And as I shifted on the bed and looked at Poppy, saw the crescent shape of her lashes against her alabaster skin, I felt my heart beat for the first time in my life. I’d been existing this entire time, going through the motions, trying to just make it. But then she came into my life and everything changed, the world turning on its axis.

  I felt like I was alive for the first fucking time.

  I was in love. I loved her with a ferocity that could level a city, that could make a sane man insane. I loved her like the world was ending and there was nothing else that mattered but holding her close as I watched everything around me crumble.

  And I loved her so much I found myself wanting more in life. I wanted more than the crime lord existence I’d surrounded myself with.

  A wedding. A wife. A family.

  I wanted that, but only with Poppy.

  She fluttered her eyes open and my heart slammed into my throat as she stared at me. This sleepy expression covered her face and I smiled slowly.

  So beautiful. So innocent.

  She’d given herself to me, given me her heart, and I’d never betray that. I’d never ruin that.

  I was a hardened biker, a killer, a bad guy, but with her, I’d won the fucking lottery and I was not going to take that for granted. I was not going to ever let her go.

  I said nothing as I cupped her cheek and smoothed my thumb along her skin. She was warm and soft. Her soft moan was sweet and turned me on.

  “Poppy,” I whispered. “I love you, Poppy.” I pulled back to look at her face, to look at her expression. She didn’t look shocked, didn’t look like I’d just said something out of left field.

  No, she smiled.

  “I love you too.”

  And just like that, I’d found that cliché missing puzzle piece to fit right into the fucked-up existence of my life. And damn, was it fucking incredible.

  Epilogue<
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  Poppy

  Six months later

  I was carrying a bag of groceries when I walked into the clubhouse. Instantly, I heard shouting, glasses and bottles breaking, and the scent of weed and alcohol filling the air. There was a fight that broke out to my left, two prospects going at it, patches surrounding them as they chanted their names, as they roared out for more blood.

  But I wasn’t even fazed. This was the life I’d decided to live now, and strangely enough, it was almost welcoming. Because I knew these men would protect me with their lives. I knew even for as rough around the edges and dangerous as they were, and for how other people might perceive them as evil, they actually had love in their hearts.

  Butcher was proof of that, even if he only showed it to me.

  And I knew the other members of The Devil’s Right Hand MC were the same way whether they had that stone-cold exterior or not.

  They wanted love but just hadn’t found it yet.

  I headed into the kitchen, dropped off the bag of groceries for tonight’s family dinner, and then went back to the room I shared with Butcher. Over the last six months, things had been going pretty good. Things had been moving slow as we got to know each other.

  I’d been coming to understand the MC dynamics, each member’s personality. And I was just enjoying being alive and not living in the shit world I’d been in my entire life.

  I was young, didn’t want to rush anything, but the truth was I looked into Butcher’s face and all I saw was my future.

  All I saw was what I wanted in life, and that was to be with him.

  I wanted to talk about us, together, with nothing standing in our way. But I was a little nervous. We didn’t exactly go that route, hadn’t hedged on the future of what us looked like. And part of me knew it was because Butcher was taking his time with me and didn’t want me to feel rushed.

  And that made me love him even more.

  Because he was trying. Because he wanted things to move at my pace.

  But I had never actually seen that for myself… to love someone. Then I met Butcher, and when I looked at him, all I felt was consumed. All I felt was like the world was finally right, that my life was exactly where it was supposed to be.

  I headed into our bedroom and heard the shower running. After shutting the door and setting my purse on the bed, I smiled to myself as I went into the bathroom.

  I could see his massive outline through the shower curtain, could smell the Irish Spring soap he used. I grabbed the edge of the curtain and quietly pulled it aside, looking into the shower and really getting a good view of Butcher. He was big and massive, muscular and powerful. His legs were like tree trunks, strong and sturdy, thick. And his ass... God, I’d never really been one to appreciate that part of the male form before, but looking at Butcher threw that right out the window.

  I was silent as I undressed, as I pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the shower. He was washing the soap from his hair, bubbles sliding down his body to pool at his feet right before washing down the drain.

  I stood there a moment just appreciating the view, just watching the way his muscles flexed and bunched from any little movement. I was wet, my nipples hard, everything in me strung tight as desire raced through me.

  “You gonna just watch me, Poppy baby, or you going to come over here and let me wash you?”

  I wasn’t surprised he knew I was standing right behind him. It didn’t matter how stealthy I’d been, how quiet, nothing got past Butcher.

  And so I grinned, stepped forward, and let my fingers trail along his muscular back. I stared at the tattoos that covered his skin, watched the droplets of water cascade along the length of his spine.

  “Butcher.” I whispered his name. He turned around then, ran a hand over his face to clear the beads of water away, and stared down at me, looked right in my eyes.

  “I know what you need, baby girl.” His voice was pitched low, barely audible over the spray of the shower.

  He cupped my cheek and smoothed his fingers along my skin, causing my arousal to kick into overdrive.

  “You need me to love you?”

  I nodded instantly, slowly. My lips were parted as he leaned in. My breath stalled as he placed his mouth on mine. And a moan left me as he slipped his tongue deep inside me and took everything else away until all I felt was pleasure.

  I found myself in his arms, pressed up against the tiled wall, his mouth on my neck and his cock nudging the entrance of my pussy. With my legs wrapped around his waist, my hands curled around his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin, I ran my tongue along the shell of his ear.

  “Fuck me. Show me how much you love me,” I said a second before he groaned and gave me exactly what I wanted.

  * * *

  Butcher

  Later that evening

  The muted moonlight came through the blinds, giving this silvery glow to the bedroom. I held Poppy close, both of us naked after the shower, my cock still semi-hard even after I’d fucked her up against the wall and pumped my cum deep inside her.

  But then again, she had this effect on me. In fact, I could have buried myself deep in her tight body and lost myself to oblivion over and over again, because I’d never get enough.

  We’d eaten family dinner just hours before, taken one more shower just her and me, because truthfully, I couldn’t get enough of her. And now here we were, lying together, the aftereffects of me fucking her still humming through my body.

  This was perfect. She was perfect.

  She was mine in every sense of the word.

  I picked up her hand and stared at her delicate, long fingers. Ran my digits over hers, marveling at how soft her skin was, how perfect it felt holding her. Then I stared at her ring finger, my heart beating faster, those words on the tip of my tongue. Hell, I’d been thinking about this for months, ever since I knew she’d be mine, ever since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

  “What are you thinking about?” she whispered, the sleepy tone in her voice pleasing me, because I knew she was exhausted. I slipped my fingers between hers, held her hand, and placed it over my heart.

  “I’m thinking about you, about how much I love you, about how I’m not complete unless you’re by my side.” I looked at her, saw the small smile on her face, and I shifted on the bed to face her. I brought our conjoined hands to my mouth and kissed her knuckles, running the pad of my thumb over the back of her hand. “You feel that way too?” I knew she did, but hearing her say it was pretty fucking incredible.

  She rose up and kissed me. It wasn’t anything sexual, just a little peck, but fuck did it feel good.

  “I love you too,” she said against my lips, and I forced myself not to push her onto her back and claim her, to part those pretty thighs of hers and plunge my cock home.

  But I didn’t do any of that, because what was on my mind was more important than sexual pleasure. What was on my mind was about our future.

  And I wanted to. Fuck, I really wanted to. But what I wanted more was to have her as mine in all the ways that counted.

  “Poppy....”

  The way she looked at me had my chest tightening. It was a look of worry. But the way I’d said her name had been sort of hesitant.

  “Is everything okay?” She sat up, probably instantly able to see the change in me.

  I didn’t know what to say at first despite the fact that I had the words right on the tip of my tongue.

  Just fucking say it. Be a man. Tell her how you feel and what you want.

  So I took a deep breath and just went for it.

  “Marry me. Let’s make this legal.” My heart was in my throat, and the seconds that ticked by with her being silent, the more worry filled me. Fuck, I’d never been this nervous before. “Although, the fucking truth is, I’ll never let you go, married or not. But I want you as my wife, as my old lady, the mother of my babies, Poppy. I want you as my family, irrevocably.” She was all of that and more. And I didn’t need a fucking legal piece of
paper to say that, but shit, I wanted it.

  “Marriage?” Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

  I cleared my throat and nodded, trying to act like I had my shit together. “Yeah.” Fuck, was that my voice? “I want to marry you, Poppy. I want you to be my wife.” Shit, I wasn’t doing this right.

  I got out of bed and walked over to my cut, pulling out the ring box I’d tucked into the inner pocket three months ago. I kept it with me at all times, this reminder of what I wanted to do, but worried I’d fuck things up.

  I got back in bed, Poppy already sitting up with the sheet pulled to her chin, her eyes still wide. She lowered her gaze to the box I held, and when I popped the lid, showed her the diamond ring, I felt like time fucking stood still.

  “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here, baby.” I was starting to sweat from my nerves. “But I’ve been carrying this ring around for three months, Poppy.” She still hadn’t said anything, and there was a part of me that worried, thinking she’d say this had been a big mistake.

  But I knew she loved me. Then again, she was so damn young. She had her whole life ahead of her. Who said just because she loved me that she wanted to be my wife, to be with me for the long haul?

  I was starting to doubt myself, about to close the box and apologize, because I didn’t want to ruin things, didn’t want to make it worse, when I felt her hand on mine. I lifted my gaze to hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

  “If me asking you has ruined shit, can we just forget about it? Can we just pretend it never happened?” Hell, I would’ve begged, pleaded. I’d never done that in my entire life. But I didn’t want to ruin shit with Poppy.

  And then before I knew what was happening, she flung herself into my arms. I fell back on the bed, her naked body on mine, the sheet slipping down to now pool at her waist. She kissed all over my face, and I couldn’t help but grin, chuckling.