I excuse myself to look for Piper who’s no longer at our table. She’ll tell me what this means. She’s all wise and shit. I locate her doing a crossword puzzle at the bar. I take a seat on the barstool and rip the puzzle outta her grasp.

“What the f**k ZZ!”

I toss the puzzle down the bar. I need her focus. Like right now. “Storm just said we’re f**king.” And I do that quotation thing with my hands. “Right now, that’s all this is. What the f**k does that mean?”

Piper’s a smart girl. She reaches for a bottle of whiskey, pours me a shot, and slides it to me, setting the bottle on the bar top.

“It means you’re both just f**king. She means you both are just f**kin one another, no one else.”

I still don’t get it. Am I f**kin stupid here?

“Still lost, Piper.” I guzzle down my shot.

She sighs. “Look ZZ. She’s scared to f**kin death if she gets too clingy, you’re gonna run the other way.”

I still don’t get it. I said I would try. Like with the whole relationship bullshit. Right on cue, I feel a small hand on my shoulder and Storm is at my side. I watch as Piper walks away, leaving us alone.

“Hey… you okay?”

How to answer that?

“No.”

Yeah, that does it.

“Did I do something?” Her voice comes out hurt.

“We’re just f**kin. Right now, that’s all this is,” I mimic her words with a growl while I pour myself another shot.

“Mason,” she whispers. “We are just f**king one another right now. I don’t want to push you into something you don’t wanna be in.”

That’s just the thing. I said I’d f**kin try. Fuckin try means more than just f**king.

“I said I would try.” I growl, throwing back another shot.

“Yeah, I get that,” she says still confused.

“Goddammit Storm, f**king try means more than just f**kin. Fucking trying means involving feelings and shit. When you’re just f**kin, you don’t involve any feelings. So what is it that you want? Huh? Because here I am trying to feel for a woman who is just f**king me.”

Oh, that makes me feel better. Who knew?

“Oh,” She whispers again.

Oh? Fucking ‘oh’? That’s all I get?

“Mason…” She tries to get my attention, and I don’t look at her. I can’t. I’m f**kin mad. Her hand goes to my chest, and her fingers make an L. I close my eyes and reopen them as I finally turn towards her. I grab her wrist.

“Say it.” I growl. I’m tired of this shit.

“Say what?”

Patience. Be patient ZZ.

“Stop with the L shit on my chest and just say it.”

She looks a little hurt until she figures out I just really wanna hear the words.

“I love you?” she says it in a questionable manner. Fuck, we get nowhere.

“Like you mean it.”

She pulls her hand back, mad. “I do f**king mean it.”

I don’t believe her, and I turn back towards the bar. She just wants to f**k me. All this shit about wanting me and shit. Fuckin women. And this is why I don’t like to feel. She sighs and walks away. At first, I think she’s leaving until she comes around the bar and climbs up. She scoots the bottle away and climbs into my lap. She lifts my face with her small hands, and she has tears in her eyes.

“Mason Allen Dillan. I do love you. I do. I just don’t wanna scare you away. Okay? I want you to move at your own pace. I’m here. I already love you. The problem is I don’t want you to think you feel something for me just because I love you.”

And we get somewhere. Fucking finally. I drop my head in between her tits and grip her waist, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“Are we good?” She whispers, trailing her fingers through my hair. It feels so f**king good, so I just nod letting her continue. “Now as much as I love having your face in between my boobs… it’s killing my bruises baby.” She laughs and I quickly pull away, pissed at myself.

“Fuck. I keep forgetting, sorry,” I grumble.

“With my face battered up and my skin blue and purple… you keep forgetting.” She laughs.

I guess it really doesn’t bother me. So I just shrug and say, “I can’t wait to f**k you again.”

“There’s my ZZ.” She smiles, and I growl. “There’s my Mason.” She corrects herself.

“Say it.”

I wanna hear it again. So f**kin sue me.

“I love you.” She grins; she looks so f**kin happy.

I’m about to say something when Winter shrieks, “BRAXXON!” It echoes through the entire club.

“Looks like your prez is home.” Storm smiles at me.

Chapter 25

ZZ

Braxxon makes us all report to the clubhouse and him and Winter stay behind to lock up the club. Which is just code for ‘I’m gonna f**k my wife, and you bitches are just gonna wait on me’.

We’re all at the compound in the old clubhouse. The women call it the madhouse. Whatever the f**k that means. Storm’s sitting in my lap and I’m rubbing her like no tomorrow. I just wanna get naked and play with her. Dammit. How long does it take to heal? And like she can read my mind, she answers me.

“A few weeks Mason,” she giggles. “We can do other things until then.”

Shit. I’m about to drag her away when Braxxon and Winter come walking in. Just my f**king luck.