Chapter 8

Eight

Fletch

I let out a long sigh as Gemma storms from the kitchen. Axel rolls his eyes. "Go after her," he orders.

"And say what?" I hiss, "I told you this was a bad idea."

He fixes me with a glare that tells me he's about to erupt, so I sigh again for dramatic effect and go after her.

She's almost at the gate when I catch up and grab her arm to slow her down. "Not so fast," I say with a laugh. "Why are you so mad?"

"Because this shitshow was a setup," she yells, turning on me. "I am a fucking police officer, Fletch. I lock people like you up, and here I am, sitting at a table with you and your boss."

"He's not my boss," I mutter.

"Whatever he is," she screams, waving her arms in the air. "And they're all questioning my motives like they have no idea what I am or who I am."

I take her hand and tug her a step closer. "I remember who you were before this," I say, tucking her hair behind her ear. "And tonight, I just wanted to see her again."

"Why?" she demands.

"Because I liked her."

"I'm not that girl anymore, Fletch," she snaps. "You saw to that."

"Then maybe I need to get to know who you are now."

"Why?"

"Because . . ." I groan, "maybe I just want to."

"It's not enough," she mutters, going to turn away, but I keep hold of her. "Fletch, this can't happen between us."

"What can't?"

"This," she hisses, waving a hand between us, "whatever this is, just stay away from me."

"I can't," I blurt. The panic that she's trying to walk away for good, and how Axel will react to that, makes me pull her back to me. "I can't," I repeat, cupping her cheek and placing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"I'm gonna take down your club."

I give a slight nod, pressing my forehead against hers. "I know. We survived for two years living in secret."

She laughs. "You're kidding, right?"

I shake my head and kiss her again. "There's nothing wrong with two adults hooking up."

"Hooking up?" she repeats.

"We're both single, consenting adults."

"Only I'm a police officer and you're a criminal."

I grin. "You have no evidence to back that, officer."

She begins to pull away again. "I can't."

"At least until you have something on us," I try. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?" She begins to walk, and I follow her out the gate. "Come for a drink with me," I add, giving puppy dog eyes for added effect, and a smile pulls at her lips.

I guide her to the nearest bar, and we sit in a dark corner away from everyone else, nursing two whiskeys. "I feel like we've reached an understanding," I tell her, and she rolls her eyes. "Hear me out. We're actually talking now, so that's a start, isn't it?"

"My father would have a shitfit if he saw us together," she mutters.

"He still a wanker?"

"He's certainly taking ‘grumpy old man' to the next level."

"What's he think about your breakup?"

"I haven't told him, but no doubt Pete will fill him in the second he gets a chance."

"You don't seem very upset over it," I remark, and she stares down into her drink.

"We were never going to work," she admits. "He's a stuck-up prick with more money than sense." She sighs. "He got me a new car."

I raise my brows in surprise. "A nice one?"

She grins. "A beamer."

I laugh. "Makes sense."

"He wanted to change me."

"How?"

She shrugs. "To be the perfect wife. He wanted me to hold dinner parties and entertain his boring surgical associates. We never did anything fun together."

"He sounds like a dream."

"He was a carbon copy of my father, and I have no fucking clue why I ever went for him because I hate my father." Her admission means she's opening up and relaxing.

"You always felt a need to keep him happy."

She nods in agreement. "Fat lot of good that did me."

"And he went on to have another kid," I say, my words sounding every bit surprised.

"Ruby isn't keen on him either," she tells me. "I wish I could get her away from him."

"He's her father, and I'm sure her mother makes up for the parts he's lacking."

Gemma scoffs. "She's a witch."

"It's surprising anyone puts up with your father, so hats off to her."

Gemma rolls her eyes again, "She sticks around because of what he gave her." She shakes her head, frowning slightly. "I mean, what he can give her."

"A money grabber?"

"Sort of. Tell me about you," she says, sipping her drink. "Not club life, just . . . life."

"Not much to tell."

"You used to say that a lot, Fletch. But what about your childhood and your parents? What happened to them?"

"I'm a lone wolf," I say with a grin, finishing off my drink. "Another?" I ask, tipping my empty glass to her. She nods, and I head back to the bar.

I instructed the bartender to keep the drinks flowing, and after three more double whiskeys for Gemma and only single pours for me, she's a lot more relaxed. Her cheeks have a healthy glow, and she's laughing at all my crap jokes.

"I shouldn't have drunk so much," she mumbles, narrowing her eyes when the bartender places another two drinks at the end of the bar. I take them, handing her one.

"You're allowed to drink when you have a broken heart," I say, winking.

"What's your excuse?" she asks with a smirk.

"I'm your moral support."

She laughs. "Morals? You don't have any of those."

I press my hand to my chest and fake hurt. "I've grown up."

"Bullshit. When was your last serious relationship?" I bite my lower lip, trying hard to hide the smirk. "Exactly," she states, laughing harder. "If I had a mother, she'd have told me to stay away from guys like you."

"Would you have listened?"

It's her turn to chew on her lip, and she gives her head a shake. "It's easy to get lost when I'm with you," she admits, not quite meeting my eyes.

I drain my drink. "Maybe you're not lost, Snap. Maybe you're exactly where you're supposed to be." I place my glass down and move her full one from her reach. "Let's get you home."

"Home?" she repeats, almost looking confused.

"Yep, that place you lay your head at night," I tease, standing and holding out my hand. She eventually takes it and allows me to tug her to stand. She falls against my chest, and when she raises her head and her eyes meet mine, there's heat there. She glances at my lips, her tongue darting out to wet her own. "You want me to kiss you, Snap?" I whisper, brushing her hair away from her face and gently cupping her cheek. "In public?"

"You didn't used to be shy," she murmurs. I press my lips to hers, softly placing a kiss there. Her hands circle my neck and she presses herself against me to deepen the kiss. When we pull apart, she's panting breathlessly. "Bathroom," she says, arching a brow as if she's challenging me. Then she steps away, heading for the ladies' bathroom.

I stay rooted to the spot, glancing around casually while weighing up my options. It takes me less than a second to follow.

I shove the door open, and she spins to face me, leaning against the condom machine and holding her hands behind her back like a child being caught stealing. I close the gap between us and push my fingers into her hair, pulling her to me and taking control of her mouth again. I reach behind her and retrieve the condom before walking her backwards into the nearest cubicle. It's a tight squeeze, and while I unfasten my jeans, I lower onto the closed toilet seat. It breaks the kiss, so Gemma reaches under her dress and shimmies from her underwear. I rip open the condom and pull out my erection. She eyes me lustfully, watching as I roll the rubber over my length, and then she throws a leg over me and lowers onto me, groaning the second my cock slides into her tightness. I squeeze my eyes closed for a second, enjoying the feel of her choking me. She holds onto my shoulders, lifting herself and slamming down hard. "Fuck," I hiss, squeezing her hips. "Slow down."

"I need this," she pants, moving faster.

She leans back slightly, placing her hands on my knees and giving me access to her clit. I gather some of her wetness on my thumb and press it against her swollen bud. She groans. "Oh shit," she whispers, closing her eyes. A blush creeps up her neck and over her cheeks as her swollen lips part, letting out small gasps of pleasure as her orgasm washes over her.

I lift her and press her against the closed door. "You're addictive," I murmur, squeezing her backside. I fuck her hard, not bothering that the door is banging with each thrust. And when I finally come minutes later, a low growl escapes from the back of my throat as I strain, pushing in as far as she can take me.

I still, pressing my head against her shoulder while I catch my breath. I lower her feet onto the ground, and she wipes my brow with her hand. "We should do that again back at mine," she whispers with a giggle. I'm not about to refuse, so I grab a handful of tissue, remove the condom, and drop it in the waste bin. Then I fasten my jeans while she slips her underwear back in place and straightens her tousled hair. I take her by the hand, and we step out to find a woman waiting patiently. She stares at the ground as we pass, giggling like naughty teenagers.

We walk hand-in-hand back to Gemma's place. She doesn't seem to care we're out in public or that we could be seen, and I don't waste my breath reminding her because I like it when she's like this, so calm and relaxed.

The lights are out, and she carefully unlocks the door, allowing us to slip in quietly. She locks it behind us, throwing her keys on the side before taking me by the hand again and leading me upstairs.

The second we're in her bedroom, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her. It's going to be a long night.

Gemma

"What the fuck!"

My eyes shoot open, and Pete is staring at me from the bedroom doorway. I blink a few times, squinting as light peeks through the curtains. "Pete," I croak, realising my throat is dry.

"Who the fuck is he?"

I glance to my left and gasp in horror as Fletch stirs, stretching out and causing the sheet to fall away from his naked body. I sit up, groaning as my head spins. "Shit," I mutter, covering my face as my mind replays last night. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Answer me," Pete yells.

Fletch groans aloud. "Shut him up, my head's banging."

"Is this a joke?" Pete demands, glaring at me.

I scrub my hands over my face. "Go downstairs, I'll be there in a second."

"Or we could do it now," he shouts, closing the gap between us and ripping the sheet from me. I screech, trying desperately to grab it back, but when he sees I'm naked too, a painful cry leaves him. I jump up, making a grab for him to comfort or soothe his pain, but he jumps back, looking at me in disgust. "Don't fucking touch me, you slag."

His words hurt, and I drop back onto the bed and frown. "Pete," I whisper.

"Is this why you kicked me out? So this . . . this . . . criminal can jump in your bed?"

"No," I begin to protest.

"Who said I'm a criminal?" asks Fletch, pushing to sit up. He grabs his T-shirt from the floor and pulls it over my head. If it wasn't for the utter panic I'm currently feeling, I'd think it was sweet he'd taken the time to cover me up. "You're purely seeing the tatts and jumping to assumptions. Not cool, man."

"Fuck you," Pete hisses angrily.

Fletch arches a brow as he pulls on his boxer shorts. "You're being a prick."

"You're fucking my wife!" Pete screams.

Fletch stands, and I groan. "Firstly, she ain't your wife. Secondly, she kicked your cheating arse out for good reason."

"She told you?" asks Pete, sounding astounded. He brings his hateful glare back to me. "How long has this been going on?"

"Nothing's going on," I mutter feebly.

"You told him about our private business, Gem. Who the fuck is this wanker?"

"We'll have less of the name calling," snaps Fletch.

"Get out," Pete demands. "Get out of here and stay the hell away from my wife."

"Again, she's not your wife."

"Fletch," I hiss, "just go."

"Me go?" he snaps.

"You heard her, get out," Pete adds, then his eyes narrow. "Hold on . . . Fletch?" He glances at me then back at Fletch. "Not Cameron Fletcher?"

Fletch grins. "The one and only."

"Please, just give us a moment. I need to talk to him," I mutter, risking a glance in Fletch's direction. He begins to dress, and when I go to remove his shirt, he shakes his head, grabbing his kutte and storming out. Great.

"What the hell is he doing back?" Pete hisses.

"It doesn't matter."

"It fucking matters," he yells.

"Can you stop yelling?" I growl. "Ruby is here."

"Oh wow," he grumbles, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips. "So, you had a criminal here to fuck while your little sister was stopping over?"

"Why are you even here?"

"To sort things out, but I don't know if I want to after seeing you with him."

I scoff. "Are you actually serious? After everything you've done?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You're right," he states, his hand dropping to his side. He perches on the edge of the bed. "You're right. Let's call it quits."

I laugh, waiting for him to tell me he's joking. When he doesn't join me, my smile fades. "You're being serious?"

He grabs my hand. "Babe, this can work. We just need to talk things through and be honest with one another."

"Honest?"

"Yes. If I can just explain what I find in those women that I don't find in you, maybe we can work through it."

I pull my hand away, his words twisting at my heart. "Like what?"

He takes a breath like he's preparing some speech, and I brace myself. "For starters, your underwear could do with an update." My brows must reach my hairline because he rushes to add, "You've had some of them since we met."

"What else?" I demand, moving on swiftly.

"We could try some new stuff?"

"In the bedroom?"

"Yeah, yah know, like some kinky stuff."

"You'd need to be a little more specific," I hiss as calmly as I can muster.

"I like to be . . . well, I want you to tie me up."

"Tie you up," I repeat slowly.

"And maybe hit me sometimes."

"Hit you?" I'm struggling to hide the shock displaying clearly on my face.

He suddenly looks unsure. "I get off on pain." I have no words, so I stare at him open-mouthed. "And being dominated," he adds, staring down at his knotted fingers.

"Oh god," I murmur.

"And if you agree, I'd like you to meet Alice."

"Alice?" I almost whisper while trying to fight the vomit that wants to make an appearance.

"She's on board with the whole idea," he gushes enthusiastically.

A small, unamused laugh escapes. "Maybe you could run it by me, Pete, cos I'm not sure I am."

"The three of us."

My brows arch again. "Together?"

He nods, smiling. "You both dominating me."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting his confessions sink in. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?"

"Because I was ashamed," he admits, "but after I spoke with Alice, she convinced me to talk to you. She thought you'd be a little more understanding about why I tend to stray."

"Oh, did she?" I mumble, releasing a sigh. "Look, this isn't going to work."

He grabs my hand again. "Gemma, it is. You just need to try it . . . for me."

I pull free and stand, heading over to the window. "And what about me? What about what I want?"

"You want me," he tells me. "We can still get married and be the happy couple your father expects."

I scrub my hands over my face. "No," I state clearly. "I've spent my entire life trying to please everyone but me, and I'm not doing it anymore. I'm glad you found the courage to tell me how you feel because, honestly, I really thought it was me. Now, I see it's just a difference in what we want."

"Gemma, just think about it. We can be happy."

"As long as I give you what you want," I say, spinning to face him. "I don't want to dominate a man. In fact, I want a man who can dominate me. A man who can throw me around the bedroom like a rodeo cowboy. I want a man who takes care of me before himself." He looks offended. "I want a man who can make me come."

"I can make you come," he snaps.

"Never," I yell, throwing my hands in the air. "Not one time. I faked it."

"How the hell am I supposed to make you come when I think you already have?"

"Because you don't do it for me, Pete," I say, exasperated from the lies I've been telling us both since we began dating. "And now, I know why. Because I don't do it for you either."

"But he does?" he spits. "What would your father say, seeing you with a man like that?"

I laugh. "He'd hate it, but I'm a grown adult and I can do what I want. I'm calling the wedding off. In fact, I'll start calling people today and cancelling everything."

"You're making a mistake," he says, heading for the door. "And don't think you can come crawling back when you realise it."

I ring my father's doorbell. His house is grand, with lavish stone carvings adorning the brick wall surrounding the property. The door is always locked, but I've never had the pleasure of being given a key, and neither has Ruby, who waits patiently beside me.

When he finally opens the door, he frowns at the pair of us. "I didn't call."

"I know," I say, stepping forward so he has no choice but to open the door wider and let us in. I dump Ruby's overnight bag in the hall and head on through to the kitchen, where Jolene, his housekeeper, is baking. When she spots me, she smiles wide and holds out her floured hands for a hug. I go to her immediately, comforted by the smell of her lavender perfume. It's the same perfume she's worn since I was a small child. "How are you, my gorgeous girl?" she asks.

"I'm good. What are you making?"

She moves to hug Ruby. "Bread," she announces proudly. "I haven't quite perfected it." She senses my father coming and goes back to kneading her dough.

"I've made dinner plans for this evening," he says coldly.

"Where's Sarah?"

"I told you, she isn't well."

"Still?" He hates questions, and he sighs like I'm annoying him. "I have a shift tomorrow and things to do," I explain. "And Ruby is bored at mine." Ruby kisses me on the cheek and goes out of the room. "Besides," I add, "I need to talk to you."

"Fine," he mutters, turning and heading for his office. I follow, closing the door behind me. He sits in his oversized chair and fixes me with his narrowed, angry eyes.

"Peter and I have split up."

My father sits straighter. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It wasn't working out."

"You're getting married."

"Not anymore."

He slams his hands on the table and rises to his feet. "You are getting married," he declares, each word firmer than the last.

"Why do you care?"

"I have invested a lot of money into Peter and his practice."

"So?"

"I thought he was going to be a part of the family."

"Shit happens," I mutter.

"This better not have anything to do with that club," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

"Why would my relationship have anything to do with The Chaos Demons?"

"You tell me?"

"Pete was cheating on me," I blurt.

"So?"

"What do you mean, so? He was having sex with another woman behind my back. I can't marry him."

"Of course, you can. Men have needs. It doesn't harm the marriage to occasionally experiment."

"Oh my god," I mutter in disgust. "I haven't come here to discuss it with you. I've come here to tell you the wedding is off, so if you've invited people, you should tell them."

"I can't call the MP and tell him the wedding I've paid thousands towards is cancelled," he snaps.

"You've paid towards? I've not asked you for a penny." He glances away, and I sigh heavily. "Pete asked you?"

"It doesn't matter. I will not call my guests to cancel."

"Then don't," I hiss, heading for the door, "but they'll need an explanation when they attend a wedding with no fucking bride or groom."