Page 33 of Gluttony

Yes, he’d done that, and he wasn’t even sure if he could use the miscommunication excuse; he’d known what he was doing was wrong, and that guilt had eaten at him each time he’d stuck his dick inside a woman who wasn’t Val. That’s when the “we’re not a couple” excuse would kick in, because they weren’t, not officially, because Val hadn’t wanted labels yet. And that had pissed him off.

And he’d taken that anger and butt-hurt, and he’d done the stupidest fucking thing he could; he’d let his dick do the thinking for him.

Now, he was fighting for his fucking life—the life he so desperately wanted with the woman of his dreams.

Coming to a stop outside of the prez’s office door, Red did a double take at what he saw inside; Frost sitting on the leather love seat with a woman beside him…who was not his old lady. Sarah, the newest club slut, was curled up against Frost, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and Frost was staring down at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen, his arm around her shoulders, his other hand holding hers in place over his heart.

What the absolute fuck was going on?

Anger, hot and virulent, raged through him. Opening his mouth to bark at the asshole—goddamn club president or not—Red was stopped at the sound of his name shouted.

“Red! Someone’s here to see you!” Tony Dos called from the front of the clubhouse.

Hearing that, both Frost and Sarah’s heads snapped around, taking in the visitor standing at the door, their eyes growing big. A look of guilt slithered over Frost’s suddenly pale face, but it was Sarah’s expression that told Red exactly what was going on.

There was triumph and calculation in her eyes.

Casting a glare at Frost, Red tossed the report on the office floor, curled his lip in disgust, then turned and headed toward the common room. He’d deal with Frost and Sarah’s bullshit later, once he dealt with his own bullshit.

The room had a few of the patched over brothers from Bone Dogz in it, drinking and watching FIFA reruns on the big screens over the bar. Tiburon, Malo, and Throttle were good guys, and Red had hung with them a few times. Kiki, one of the club whores, and Cluster were necking in the corner, and Tornado was speaking with Tasha, a long-time friend of the club, in low tones in the other corner, their conversation looking a little tootense. Tony Dos, the prospect who’d called for him, was standing near the bar, waiting for Red, his gaze on the main door.

Red grit his teeth, wanting to run back to the office and tear the hide off his own president, but that would have to wait, because the main door opened, casting the last dregs of daylight into the room, and the silhouette that appeared made everything inside him go still…then rev up to a thousand. He knew that body anywhere, because he’d been staring at an image of it every day for the last several days.

Holy fucking shit!

Stepping into the room, dressed in a simple graphic tee, jeans, and Chucks, Valentina Ivanova met his gaze, her autumn eyes wide but determined.

His gaze ravished her…. Short, barely up to his chest, she was curvy in all the right places. Her jeans fit her thick thighs, wide hips, and juicy ass like denim skin, and her t-shirt hugged her luscious tits as though they were his hands cupping her. Obviously nervous, she swiped her loose hair from her face, revealing her flushed cheeks, her eyes wide and filled with wary lust, and those perfect cock-sucking lips were parted, just slightly, as she silently dragged in shallow breaths.

Motherfuck, she was a pocket goddess—and he couldn’t wait to strip her naked, fall on his knees, grip those hips until he left marks, and worship her with his tongue.

Cock hard as a rock, his mouth watering for a taste of her lush lips and the nipples he could see poking through her shirt, he’d never felt so out of control of his own body before.

After months of getting to know her online, he’d fallen hard for her personality, her intelligence, her heart, her humor, her voice. Then, when he’d finally seen her on the screen, in living color, his fantasy, he didn’t think he could love her any harder. Then he’d seen her at a distance, standing at the front door of her house…and he’d been tossed, balls over brains, for thetotal package—from head to toe, she was mesmerizing. But now, standing in front of him, within reach, nothing hidden behind a monitor, no distance to skew the image…she was breathtaking.

And, fuck, she smelled like summertime—lemonade, sunshine, and vanilla cake. Sweet, citrusy, and warm, like the home he’d always wanted. It made his mouth water, his heart ache, and his soul sigh.

Taking her in, his gaze devouring every millimeter of her, he could feel the tectonic plates of his life shifting, the building pressure ready to level the planet. His breath burning in his chest, Red let out a gust of air, just for his breath to catch once more at the sound of her voice—a voice that never failed to spark him to life.

“Redtube,” she said, her voice strong. “We need to talk.”

He’d been in battle, stared down the rifle sight of death, taken a bullet, just barely missed being blown to pieces by an IED, and had endured more pain and terror than anyone should ever have to in a single lifetime, but not once had his heart stopped.

Until now.

TWELVE

“I should have just stayed home…behindmy screens, where no one can see me….”

What the hell am I thinking?

Good question. Chubby, scarred, dull, unremarkable—but with a great personality. She knew what she looked like, what people saw when they looked at her, and she was a fool to think she’d survive the day unscathed by humiliation.

You’ve spent over a year keeping your chicken shit self hidden behind a black screen, and now you’re just going to walk in there and hope he doesn’t recoil in disgust at the first sight of you in real life?

He was going to take one look at her fat body, her pale skin, her limp hair, and unremarkable face, and he was going to tell her,“you should have stayed away.”Seriously, what was she thinking? Again, she knew what she looked like, and, yeah, he’d caught a glimpse of her for a few moments during their last conversation, but knowing he was about to seeallof her without the barrier of polarized LEDs, circuit board, and molded plastic, made her nerves drop into her stomach. Her computer monitors had been her view of the wide world for years, but it wasn’tuntil she’d “met” Redtube that they had become the gateway to fantasies, to love, to a future.

But she couldn’t hide behind them anymore, not if she wanted to have closure.

---