Heated Ride: Hellions Motorcycle Club (The Hellions Ride Series Book 7) Page 4

  I can’t believe she tried to talk to me about our kids while we were having sex. I’m losing my touch if she can think about anything except me while I’m balls deep.

  The same question I keep coming back to haunts me again. Is this what we have come to? Talking about kids during sex? When did we lose the passion?

  Lying side by side, I look at my wife. She’s still just as beautiful as the first time I lay in a bed with her. Regardless, I could roll over and go to sleep right now. Morning will come, and I will get up, shower, go to work, and be fine when there was a time I hated getting out of our bed to even be away from her for a moment.

  Where did it go wrong?

  “It wasn’t a power play,” she whispers, her eyes studying mine.

  I raise an eyebrow in question.

  “The sex, the kids’ clothes, I wasn’t using my body for a power play if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Hadn’t crossed my mind, Vida.” And it hadn’t. I’m so frustrated with our entire situation that I can’t even wrap my head around it enough to put it into words. Things just aren’t right, but I can’t say they are all wrong, either.

  She watches me. “It just seems like we don’t see each other as much lately. I was thinking about the next few days and what I needed to do—”

  “Stop!” I throw my hand up and climb out of bed. “Seriously, we’re fucking and you’re thinking about your to-do list!” I roar, stomping to our bathroom.

  I don’t know if it’s the downfall of pride or just my ever-building frustration with myself and my life, but I can’t even look at her right now knowing that, in the most intimate of moments between us, she was in her head, working through her own fucking schedule.

  It is complete bullshit.

  I slam the door and get in the shower. I need to get out of here before I say something I shouldn’t.

  Something isn’t right. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is a disconnect between my husband and I. The kids needing clothes wasn’t the best thing to bring up after he gave me two orgasms and hadn’t gotten his yet, but it hit me in the moment and I needed to tell him. My mind goes back to one of the first times we had sex.

  “Vida, close your eyes, close your mind … Feel me, Jenna. Feel me from the bottom to the top.” He slides his cock slowly and delicately in and out of me.

  I smile softly up at him.

  “Esto somos nosotros, mi amore. This is us. We are one, me and you.” He slowly moves, sending tingles throughout my entire body. “Don’t ever play games with me with your body, Jenna. Sex is not a power play. You and I, we make love.” He rests his forehead on mine, locking his eyes to mine. “This is us, my love, my life. Take your mind away from everything else and just be here with me.” His hand trails up and down my side, tickling and teasing as he uses his other arm to support his weight. “Nosotros,”—us—he whispers over and over before he drops his lips to mine and kisses me.

  Closing my eyes, closing my mind, I allow myself to become one with him, lost in the moment, in the sensations, in our love.

  It wasn’t a power play. My mind is constantly racing because of three kids who always need something. I can’t turn it off anymore. I can’t help thinking of the next task. Everything is about the next moment, the next thing. Some days, it seems like I function on autopilot, just moving from one task to the next.

  Doesn’t he understand? As my partner, my spouse, my best friend, can’t he see? It’s not just us anymore. We have these children who depend on us. They grew in my body. For months, I sustained them. The moment they came into our lives, it wasn’t Ruben and Jenna Castillo anymore.

  There are plenty of times I wish I could turn it off, but I can’t. I was made to be their mother. The moment I felt my breasts tingle from the new life growing inside my body, I was never the same again. I found my place, my purpose. There is nothing more important to me than my children. I can’t turn that off, and I don’t want to.

  Letting Ruby pout in the shower, I grab my clothes and make my way to the kids’ bathroom to clean up. What should have been an amazing night has turned into a bitter time in my marriage. How can he not understand where I’m coming from?

  Lying back in bed, I turn my body to face the wall and fight to fall asleep. I don’t move when Ruby gets in bed. He doesn’t grab me like usual and move me to him. Therefore, I snuggle down deeper into the bed, fighting all the emotions dancing around inside me. I feel the bed dip as he turns from his back to his side.

  In all the years we have been together, he has always slept on his back with me half over him. Tonight, I lift my head to find he has turned his back to me. My mind goes back to the first night I was in America.

  “Jenna, we have to share the space. Tonight, you get me sharing the bed. Tomorrow night, you will have to share with Ruben. We will always let you have the bed and switch off taking the floor between each other. We’ve gotta work, hermana. It’s hard work, so we’ve gotta sleep. Sorry, we aren’t on our own yet, but soon,” Julio explains as I lie in the full-size bed that practically fills the bedroom, and Ruben makes a space on the floor for himself.

  Nerves have filled me all day while trying to get here. Now the time has arrived, and I can’t relax. This is supposed to be a better place.

  It took some time, but I finally fell asleep, only to spend most of the next day anxious about my first night sharing a bed with Ruben. Moving one of my pillows to my chest, I hug it as if it was the man I usually hold as I drift to sleep.

  “Ruby,” I whisper as Julio snores loudly on the floor beside us. “I can’t sleep.”

  Two strong arms pull me close. He’s on his back as he rolls me to his side. With my head on his chest, he grips my knee to wrap my leg over his. Gently, he strokes my hair until I fall sound asleep, feeling safe for the first time in my life.

  Only, tonight, sleep won’t find me. In its place is a new darkness in my heart.

  I have heard the saying: Never go to bed angry; that’s the key to a lasting marriage. I never understood that until this very moment.

  For the first time since Ruby and I became one, I feel alone, even with the bed beside me being full. For the first time since falling asleep in his arms all those years ago, I feel fear. Worry is building inside me for what the future may hold for us. How do you work past a divide?

  Fire

  I feel the bed dip when Jenna gets up. Her alarm hasn’t gone off yet, nor have our children invaded, but she’s up, which means she will get the kids’ lunches made, breakfast ready, and then get dressed. Depending on what she has planned, she will pack herself a lunch or go out with Sass or Pam later.

  I rub my neck where I have Vida tattooed. Another day in paradise, I think to myself.

  Getting dressed, I decide I need a ride before work, so I make my way to the kitchen where I pause when Jenna looks up from the stove as she makes french toast, and I catch her glare. The kids are at the table, waiting for their hot breakfast while she and I have a silent confrontation.

  The stare. The cold eyes, pinched lips, rise of the jaw, stare that says she is a woman hell bent on making me pay for the pain I caused her.

  Yep, we have been together far too long; the glare doesn’t even make me want to fix it. I’m numb, dead to all this.

  Kissing my kids on the tops of each of their heads, I brush past Vida and leave. It’s an asshole move, but I will not be led around by my dick if that’s what she’s thinking. The glare, the stare, the power of a woman’s eyes is lost on me. Not today, not tomorrow, not anymore.

  There was a time when her glare would have me stopping in my tracks to make it right. However, the divide between us is too great. I’m too frustrated with myself, with her, and with us to even try to fix this.

  Climbing on my bike, I turn the key and twist the throttle, making it rev. The vibrations, the power, the sound, the beast beneath me is alive. The dragon inside me is ready to breathe fire.

  Pulling out, I take the back roads to work, hitting
every curve wide open.

  “¿Dónde está el ardor?” I say to myself. “Where is the fire, the heat, the passion? I want to feel the burn again.”

  The air around me feels thick. The humidity has me wanting to yank off my helmet, my cut, and my shirt. A storm is in the air, and it’s not the one in my house. There was a time when Jenna would have gone ballistic over me leaving without saying a word.

  Pulling up to our small single-wide, I find trash bags of stuff out front. What the fuck? I think as I park the car.

  When I go to the back door we use, I find Jenna with a screwdriver and lock in her hand. She drops the package as she focuses on what she’s trying to do. The clang of her screwdriver hitting the wooden step sounds around us as I try to remain quiet.

  “No mames,” she mutters in Spanish slang, picking up the tool.

  “Vida,” I say, causing her to jump.

  “Oh, he speaks,” she fires out at me, continuing to fight with the lock on our door.

  I laugh, and she stands from her squatting position to turn and glare at me. Eyes squinted, lips pinched together, chin raised in defiance, she stares, and my dick gets hard as hell.

  “Ardiente,”—fiery, passionate—I say.

  “Oh, you think I’m hot right now? No, amigo, that was eight hours ago when you left this house—our home—without saying good-bye. There was no rush, no reason. Do not, Ruben Castillo, take for granted what we have. You do not come and go as you please. This is not a motel, no-tell.”

  The more she gets fired up—the hotter she looks—the more I want to fuck her right here against the outside of our trailer for all the neighbors to see just how wild my woman gets.

  I raise my eyebrow at her as I step up and put my hands on her hips. “That’s what this is about?”

  “Do not try to charm your way out of this. Your shit is in the yard, Ruben. If you want to treat this as a truck stop and act like I’m some puta, then let me show you where your stuff belongs.” She crosses her arms over her chest as I grip her firmly. My dick is throbbing against my zipper with each word she says and every blink of her fierce, dark eyes.

  I kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, mi amor. You know you’re my world, Vida.” I take her hand and pull her arms apart, placing her fingertips against my neck where her nickname is tattooed. “My life,” I whisper as she leaves her pinky on her tattoo and moves her thumb to stroke my cheek.

  She pauses with her thumb over the gemstone tattoo under my eye. “My Ruby, my beauty in the ugly. Connected,” she whispers as she touches the two tattoos simultaneously. I lean down and kiss her. Our tongues dance and our teeth clank as I back her to the outside of our home.

  “Ardiente,” I growl as I press against her. “I love your fire.”

  When was the last time she got fired up? Really reacted? She has packed my shit and put it outside more times than I can count. Yet, over the last few years, she hasn’t fought me. No, she ignores me. I get the glare, and she spouts off at the mouth a little, but she gives up.

  Where is the spirit of the woman I fell in love with?

  I pull into a gas station, needing to top off and head in to work. The thoughts aren’t solving any of my problems, so it’s time to clear my head for work.

  Cars—the pieces fit together to work. It’s mechanics. There are no emotions involved. Things don’t change. One piece moves against another to propel the automobile. If it’s not working smoothly, you do some tuning until you find the right balance. If you need to spice things up, parts can be added to give more power. There are so many variables, and all of it can be taken up or down according to an individual’s needs or desires. Marriage, relationships involve more than one person’s needs, desires, and thoughts.

  Taking off my helmet, I set it on top of the gas pump before dismounting my bike. Following the instructions, I swipe my credit card and go about my business as a little Mazda Miata convertible pulls up with two women inside. They occupy the pump beside mine.

  The driver gets out with her skin-tight tank top, cut off shorts that leave the crease of her ass hanging out, and strappy shoes with thick heels that make her legs seem a mile long. Her long, blonde hair flows down her back in curls that she obviously spent a lot of time doing, only to get wrecked with the top down on her car.

  Noticing she is having trouble getting the lever in her tank, I go over to assist her.

  My mistake.

  “You certainly know how to work a hose,” she croons, tracing her manicured nails up my arm.

  “I’m no firefighter; I don’t play with hoses or hoes.” I glare, but she only steps closer.

  “Hellion, huh?”

  “Pretty obvious, bimbo.”

  She smiles. “I could be for you.” She steps even closer, her breasts brushing up against my arm.

  I toss up my left hand and show her my tattooed ring finger. “Taken.” I move to hang up the pump since I’m finished pumping her gas. When I turn around, she is right in front of me.

  “She doesn’t have to know,” the blonde whispers, leaning in and pawing at my crotch. “I hear Hispanic men have elephant dicks.” She blinks her eyes at me. “Huge, thick dicks.” She licks her lips and shakes my junk.

  I grab her hand painfully, making her whimper. “I speak decent English. Taken means unavailable.” I release her wrist.

  She smirks at me. “Your cock doesn’t seem to agree.” She looks down at the growing bulge in my pants.

  I love a challenge. I get off on it. I’m also a man; if you stimulate a dick, it thickens. The blood will move to the extremity even if I don’t want it to.

  I blow out a breath and step back.

  She reaches out and runs her fingertip over my name patch. “Ruby, hmmm?” She steps toward me. “A beautiful gem for a beautiful man.”

  “There’s nothing beautiful about me, sweetheart.”

  She pulls at my shirt, lifting it to show my well-defined abs. Her nails dance down my stomach, making me flex instinctively. “We could be beautiful together, just for today.”

  I shake my head and step away. As nice as this is, as enticing as her proposition is, I can’t.

  “Name’s Charlene. I work at the hair salon on fifty-eight. Come and see me any time.” She winks. “I’ll work you in and over.”

  Shaking my head and trying to reject thoughts of Charlene and being worked over, I put on my helmet and crank my bike. Then I pull away, trying to think of all the reasons I just turned down easy pussy. It shouldn’t be this hard to come up with them.

  I once heard that happy people don’t cheat. When you are happy in your relationship, you don’t think about stepping out. Well, I’m not happy in my home life, and I damn sure was tempted to fuck that barfly’s brains out until neither of us could think about anything more than the next orgasm and whether we could really handle another round.

  He left and didn’t say a word to me. I fight the fire of rage burning inside of me. My one pet peeve, my one request from Ruben, and he throws it in my face. He knows how I feel about leaving without speaking.

  My biggest regret is Juan left and I didn’t say good-bye. The day he was killed, I was fighting with him over something so dumb I can’t even believe we were fighting. I wanted him to take me out that afternoon.

  As the youngest and the girl, I wasn’t allowed out without my brothers. Julio was off with Ruby, and Juan was going out to gang bang. I wanted him to stay behind and take me to the park, instead.

  Looking back, it was dumb for me to even think he would want to go to the park with his baby sister. At the time, however, I had tunnel vision, thinking of only my own selfish needs and wants. My brother didn’t come home that day or the next. Finally, one of his gang brothers told Julio he was killed the day before.

  That’s when the pressure was on for Julio and Ruben to join. The gang pushed and tried to recruit them hard, but the two held strong, focusing on their plans to make it to America. I didn’t learn my lesson then, either.

  I left for
America, sneaking out in the dead of night. I didn’t tell my mother good-bye. Fear held me back when I arrived safely, and I never called to tell her where I was. We weren’t close, but she was my mother. I owed her the respect to say good-bye or at least assure her of my safety.

  I did neither.

  When Julio was sent back to Mexico, he reached out and was informed of our mother’s passing—a heart attack, they told him. A broken heart from the loss of all of her children is more like it. I never said good-bye.

  It changed me. Never do I leave my children or my man without saying good-bye. Ruben knows this. He can be as mad as he wants at me, but he doesn’t need to leave without speaking to me. That is the biggest disrespect he can give.

  I finish my morning duties for our children, all the while fighting back the urge to throw his shit in the front yard. Looking back, that was a lot of energy I wasted packing him up, knowing I would take him back. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with him today. I have kids to get off to school and a job to get to. If he doesn’t want to speak to me because his male ego is still wounded from last night, that’s on him, not me.

  Like the strong woman I have to be for my kids, I push down my emotions and go about our morning as if I don’t want to slap their father around and cut him. Again, I fight back my anger and frustration. My children don’t need to feel the effects of my emotions when it has nothing to do with them.

  After getting the kids on the bus to school, I get in my minivan and laugh.

  This is not at all what I ever thought my life would be. Sure, I always wanted Ruben, but three kids and a house with a picket fence, driving a minivan … It’s amazing and it’s sad. I’m not even thirty yet.

  Nevertheless, from the moment I first got pregnant, I knew this was the new me. This was going to be everything I was meant to be.

  My life is no longer my own. From the moment Ruben and I created our first life together, it was going to be about our children. Today, years later, it is and always will be everything for my children. There is nothing I wouldn’t do or give up for them.