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That was when things had started to go wrong, when it had begun to resonate that angels didn’t mate with demons for a reason…
"Don’t pick fights with bears that are bigger than you."
I was a grown man. A biker. Grown-assed bikers didn’t fucking cry.
Nothing beat that initial hit. Every other time, you just chased a fucking rainbow for the pot of gold at the end of it.
The day you tossed me out on my ass was a day you made me proud of you, baby girl.
"I only ever wanted you," she cried out, and this time, she started sobbing. "Why didn’t you want me enough? Why?" When her fist pounded on my chest, I let her. "Why did you have to break us apart? Why couldn’t you have just come to me? I would always have been there. Always."
I was Storm’s angel, then he was my devil. My temptation. A blessing and a curse. Who dared me to be bad. Who allowed me to be free.
Fucking for the sake of fucking was one thing. Having a girlfriend behind my back for years was another. Because he needed to get off twenty times a day? That was more of a sickness than lust.
"Because Aunt Giulia," I mocked, "says the best defense is offense."
How likely was it that a guy whose road name was Storm, a word that was tempestuous and volatile in nature, didn’t have a temper?
"What I feel for Keira borders on an obsession. I know it’s crazy, but that’s how it is. I spent half her pregnancy terrified I’d resent the hell out of Cyan. I never wanted to share Keira. Ever. A second kid…" My words waned. "I don’t know how I’d cope."
"I loved you as you became Cyan’s mom—a woman who made sure the house was clean, who watched over our daughter, who protected her, cherished her. But I fell for the woman who smiled at a dirty biker like he wasn’t scum.
‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?’" Storm grunted. "Are you for real? Words hurt just as much as fists."
