"Cool."

Danny and I walked back to the house, me silent with my arms wrapped around my middle and her, a bouncing blonde ball of teenage girl, telling me all about her summer break from school. She was sixteen, the same age I was when I'd first kissed her father, fell hard for him, and it all felt supremely awkward.

As we reached the end of the driveway, I could see Deuce and Cage sitting on the porch steps. Cage was leaning back on the railing smoking a cigarette; Deuce was doing a face plant in his palms. My heart clenched; he was upset.

When he spotted us, Cage kicked Deuce in the calf. Deuce's head jerked left, his face tight with anger and Cage reared back, pointing at me. Our eyes locked.

"Danny," Cage yelled, getting to his feet. "Help me make dinner!"

Danny touched my arm. "You good?"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"He would never hurt you," She whispered.

I looked down at her. "Yeah baby, I know."

She grinned and I cringed. The girl didn't just have his eyes she had his heart stopping grin.

"Daddy calls me baby," She said and ran off. Her and Cage disappeared inside the house leaving Deuce and I staring at each other.

Oh, lord, help me. I couldn't do this. And yet, I was walking straight towards him.

I stopped in front of him. "Look, I can't do - Hey! What the h.e.l.l!"

Deuce grabbed my waist and pulled me on his lap. "f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l, b.i.t.c.h," He said hoa.r.s.ely. "You make me f.u.c.kin' insane."

I let out a long shuddering sigh and sunk into his body. His arms tightened around me.

"You're not leavin' Eva."

I was. But I didn't tell him that. Instead, I told him how unbelievably bad he smelled.

"Yeah babe. So do you."

Deuce's home was incredible. An honest to G.o.d log cabin dream home. The inside had been decorated rustic chic. When you first walk in you are greeted with a two story foyer complete with a handmade wooden chandelier. The entire first floor is an open plan. The only divider is the sprawling staircase that leads to the second floor balcony.

To the left of the foyer is a living area, separated from the family area only by furniture. The furniture was top of line, not at all lived in and reminded me of Chase. The family area was more my thing, beat up wide seated couches, a thick furry throw rug, an enormous flat screen and every video game console a teenage boy could dream up. Photos of Deuce and his boys, of his kids, of his different motorcycles over the years covered the width of two walls. To the right of the foyer was an enormous kitchen and dining area. The kitchen was nearly identical to the one at his clubhouse. Black and chrome appliances, black and white marble counters. The dining set was exquisite. Solid cherry stained oak, high back ladder chairs fitted with forest green cushioning.

Up the sprawling staircase and across from the balcony were five bedrooms, three bathrooms not including the master bedroom's all inclusive bathroom with a Jacuzzi for a bathtub and a shower big enough to fit a family of ten, complete with benches and multiple showerheads. Deuce's bedroom was just as ridiculous. Although spa.r.s.ely decorated, what was there was not at all how I pictured Deuce's bedroom. A long horizontal dresser with a large vanity mirror and a matching stool lined one wall. A tiffany lamp hung off to the side. On the opposite wall were two vertically tall dressers. The bed was a four poster California King with black silk bedding and too many pillows to count. And there were mirrors everywhere. Even on the ceiling.

I stared at Deuce who shrugged and muttered. "Christine."

Cage's bedroom was typical of a teenage boy. Dark sheets, dark curtains, posters of motorcycles and naked women posing with motorcycles and stolen street signs lined the walls. The floor was carpeted with clothing and sneakers, his bed was a mess, and dirty dishes were piled high on his dresser.

Danny's was of the utmost girly girl variety. Everything was either pink or purple or pink, purple and fuzzy. The second I stepped inside I felt like I'd walked into candy land and instantly retreated to safety.

When my tour was complete, Deuce brought me back to his bedroom, pointed me towards the dresser with the vanity and ordered me to unpack. I scowled at him. "I'm not staying," I told him. "Therefore I am not unpacking."

"f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l," He muttered. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me into the adjoining bathroom and started the shower. Then he stripped.

When he was standing b.u.t.t naked in front of me, I stared at the tattoo of his wife, a half sleeve of her face. I had seen it before but never given it much thought. Until now, until I was here in her home, with her husband and her two children.

"Don't f.u.c.kin' go there Eva," He growled. I narrowed my eyes. How did he always know what I was thinking?

Muttering something about crazy women, Deuce crossed the bathroom and pushed me up against the ceramic tiled wall. He yanked my tee shirt over my head and tossed it in the garbage can. Had his wife picked out the garbage can? Was her toothbrush in here somewhere?

I was momentarily distracted from my musings when I felt Deuce's hands on me. Deuce's mouth on me.

"There it is," He murmured around a mouthful of nipple. "There you f.u.c.kin' are Eva. Gotta keep f.u.c.kin' you to remind you where you belong, I got no problem with it."

Deuce carried me into the shower, his hands gripping my backside, his mouth feasting on my neck.

"f.u.c.k," He kept muttering, over and over again like a mantra. "So f.u.c.kin' sweet," He murmured, nuzzling against my neck. "f.u.c.kin' beautiful and sweet and crazy and f.u.c.kin' mine."

I swallowed hard.

f.u.c.kin' mine.

G.o.d, the things this man did to me, the things he made me feel.

"That baby Eva, it's mine. You feel me?"

My breath caught. "I feel you," I whispered.

His hand dipped down between us and he slipped first one then two fingers inside of me. Gripping his shoulders, I let my mind go blank and gave myself over and into the care of Deuce and his magic fingers. It wasn't hard to do.

"You feel me now, darlin'?" He growled.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. But yeah, I felt him. Everywhere.

"You plan on patching s.h.i.t up with your old man?"

Deuce was in his bathroom brushing his teeth watching a towel clad Eva sitting on his bed, biting her nails, looking like she was going to bolt at any second. He'd set the alarm for this reason. She didn't know the code, so if she tried to open the door or even a f.u.c.king window, he'd know. And he'd haul her a.s.s back to bed.

"You're always calling my daddy an old man," She called out. "But you're almost as old as him."

She thought he was old? He spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

"What are you trying to say darlin'?"

She shrugged. "Just wondering when you're going to start needing v.i.a.g.r.a too."

He froze.

What?

WHAT THE f.u.c.k?.

Throwing his toothbrush across the room he stalked out of the bathroom headed straight for her. He placed a hand on either side of her and leaned down, forcing her to lie on her back.

"Did I not just finish workin' you over?"

The crazy woman pressed her lips together. She was laughing at him. Laughing!

Without preamble, he flipped her on her stomach, yanked her a.s.s up in the air and sunk inside of her. Christ, she was wet. She'd baited him. He shook his head. She was crazy and s.e.x crazed.

"How'm I doin' you little brat?" He grunted. "You gettin' what you need?"

Panting, she shook her head. "Nope. I think you might need to go faster."

His nostrils flared and he brought his hand down hard on her backside.

She burst out laughing. "Again," She giggled.

Christ.

"You want it raw, you promise me you're gonna stay and try this s.h.i.t with me."

She pulled away, flipped onto her back and spread herself open for him. He pushed inside of her again. Their eyes caught and locked.

"I promise," She whispered.

"That's good babe," He said. "Real f.u.c.kin' good."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:.

"I'm fat," I whined, staring at my ginormous belly.

Deuce, sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his boots on, looked over his shoulder. "Yup."

I sat up in bed or rather I wiggled myself up. "Did you just call me fat?"

"Yup."

Oh my G.o.d. He was so infuriatingly honest! I hated it!

"I'm not fat!" I cried. "I'm nearly eight months pregnant!"

He stood up and grabbed his deodorant from the top of his dresser. "Yeah babe, I know. But that baby ain't in your a.s.s."

My mouth fell open. "Did you just call my a.s.s fat?"

In the middle of tying his hair back, he turned around. "Yup."

"I hate you," I hissed. "If I could get up on my own I would kick your a.s.s!"

He grinned. "Not gonna lie babe. Your a.s.s got f.u.c.kin' fat. Don't really care though cuz I got big fat hands so it's all good."

I threw my pillow at him. Laughing, he ran out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I yelled.

"The club!" The front door slammed.

Huffing, I lay back down and pulled the covers up over my head. I was so bored. Which was probably why my a.s.s got fat. Deuce had kept true to his word and was treating me good...when he was home. Which most days and most nights, he wasn't. Two months ago I gone into premature labor, had gone to the hospital and was given magnesium sulfate to slow my contractions. It worked, the labor was stopped, but I was given strict instructions stay off my feet as much as possible, to stay away from stressful situations and to refrain from s.e.xual intercourse.

After that, Deuce stopped sleeping at home. He was always at the club. And I was not allowed at the club unless he brought me there which was pretty much never.

I wasn't stupid. I knew he was sleeping with other women. Only I didn't know what to do about it. He had laid it out for me, told me he would try and I'd told him I would try. So I was trying but trying to maintain a relationship with someone who was never around was incredibly difficult.

There were a few times I had been breaths away from throwing these things in his face but then I would remember that he had never promised me an exclusive relationship nor had he promised me he would be home on a regular basis.

It was official. I was an old lady. And it was awful. I had gone from being an vital part of my club with strong ties to all my boys to this. To nothing.

In the meantime, I hung out with Danny when she wasn't at school, I hung out with Danny and Cage when Cage was home and not at the club which was a lot less frequent then his father. And I'd developed a pretty good relationship with both of them. Cage and I had become friends and Danny had pretty much decided I was her role model. I thought this was a bad idea but I didn't mention it because in all honesty I thought it was cute bad idea.

I had access to Deuce's pickup but there was nowhere to go. Miles City, Montana had a population of roughly nine thousand people and consisted of a few streets with various shops and restaurants and a whole lot of empty land. The residents didn't seem to mind this. As long as they had clothes on their backs, food in their bellies and a post office, they were good.

I wasn't.

I'd been born and raised in New York City.

New York City. Eight million people. The most populous city in the United States, one of the most populous metropolitan areas in the world. A power city, a cultural capital, the most linguistically diverse city in the world, a hodge-podge of commerce, finance, media, art, fashion, research, technology, education, and entertainment.

Sighing, I curled up on my side. I missed my city. I missed my father and Kami and Devin. I missed my boys.

But I loved Deuce. And I'd promised him.

It was late when Deuce pulled into his garage. He shut down his bike and headed inside. The kitchen was his first priority, second was Eva. He hadn't been home in four days and he was itching to touch her. He couldn't f.u.c.k her, something about the baby, but he'd been solving that problem, usually with Miranda, but Miranda wasn't Eva. None of those wh.o.r.es came close to working him the way Eva could. He couldn't be around her without wanting her and her mouth, as sweet as it was, wasn't enough. He wanted inside her. He'd wanted inside her since the Demon barbeque fourteen years ago.

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, he was hard just thinking about her.

b.i.t.c.h made him crazy.