Page 17 of Torch

Yasmine came back with our drinks, halting our conversation. Her attitude was much better this time around. Once we placed our orders, she was gone just as fast as she came.

After taking a sip of my drink, I set it down on the table. “We have two options. Option A, we can get this annulled immediately, or Option B, we can take the time to get to know each other better and explore what this is. We have up to a year to get an annulment.”

She nibbled on that plump bottom lip, thinking it over. “You don’t think this will look a little crazy?”

“I’ve never been big on worrying about public perception. I do what makes me feel good.”

Brittney smirked and cleared her throat. “I make you feel good, Christian?”

While the question might have been innocent, it made me want to spread her on top of this table and show her how good she made me feel. Instead, I grabbed her hand, locking eyes with her. “You do.”

She swallowed and interlocked our fingers. That tingly sensation was back. Brit stared down at our hands and took a deep breath. “Okay. But we have to agree to be completely honest with each other. If one of us feels like we want out, we have to say it.”

“Brit, if there’s one thing I can promise you now, it's to always be honest with you.”

A strange expression came over her face as she gave me a timid nod. I didn’t know what that was about, but I wanted to find out. Hell, I wanted to know everything there was to know about her. I felt like the universe had brought us together for a reason. Connections like this didn’t happen every day.

I knew my mother would be pissed when she found out I was still married, but I wasn’t changing anything until I was good and ready. People were just going to have to be mad. Brittney made me feel something I'd never felt before. And I wasn’t going to apologize for it.

Chapter Six

BRITTNEY

Over the past few days, Christian had been a man of his word. We were texting and calling each other every day. Sometimes he didn’t even want to get off the phone with me to handle business. I thought it was cute, and I was flattered that he loved listening to me talk.

From what I learned, he came from a close-knit family. All his family lived on the clubhouse grounds. I couldn’t imagine living that close to my parents. I would probably lose my mind. Staying with them well into my adulthood was not by choice.

Their refusal to let me work crippled me and forced me to stay. They tried several times to get me to move in with Julian, but I wasn’t having it. I knew that was all Julian's doing. He would voice all the time that we should live together. I felt like it was another way for him to control our relationship.

Ever since my argument with my parents, I’ve found myself getting angry every time. I wasted years of my life, and all they cared about was how this affected them. Not that I had been unhappy all this time. Not that I had been in a loveless relationship. And not how I had been constantly belittled and manipulated.

While I did accept some of the blame, I put most of it on them. They backed me into a corner, forcing me to fight my way out. While I recognized that Myron put in considerable effort to give us the life we enjoy today, I didn’t believe that responsibility should have been transferred to me.

Eventually, I had to be honest with myself. My parents wanting to keep this way of life was to protect the image they had painted of us to our family and friends over the years. They loved to throw in everyone’s face how we had moved on in life. Sometimes, I felt like my mother would look down on the people she used to be in the same circumstances as.

Personally, I couldn’t do it. I would always be Brit from East Overington Ridge. That was one of the main reasons I couldn’t connect with Julian. He was so damn snooty and stuck-up. Having a hefty bank account didn’t warrant being a complete asshole to the less fortunate. When he made comments like that, I couldn’t help but think about how he viewed my family. Most of my family led comfortable lives, though they weren’t wealthy.

A knock sounded on the front door, breaking my thoughts. I was alone since Kira was still at work. I got up and looked through the peephole. A smile stretched across my lips as I flung the door open. Christian was standing there looking sexy as sin with his hands full with grocery bags.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I moved aside to let him in.

He set the bags down on the bar and turned to face me. “Well, you said you could go for a home-cooked meal, so here I am. Chef Christo at your service.” He bowed, making me giggle.

I squinted my eyes, staring at him suspiciously. “You cook?”

He nodded his head. “I do. But where the hell is my hug? I haven’t seen you in four days,” he griped as he pulled me into his arms.

Like butter, I melted against him. I could smell his Creed cologne. Even though this was only my third time around him, he always smelled so damn good. Not to mention how strong his physique felt against my soft one. He squeezed me tight, kissing the corner of my mouth before he released me. I had to bite back a moan.

“Sorry, I just got caught up in the tattooed biker knowing how to cook.”

“Well, my mama taught all my brothers and me how to cook. She said whenever we got married, our wife wouldn’t be able to starve us when we pissed her off.”

“Your mama sounds like a smart woman. That’s the first thing women take off the table once we’re mad.”

He raised a brow, smirking at me. “Are you telling me you would starve me, beautiful?”

A nervous laugh ripped through me. I rubbed my neck in embarrassment. “That would only be an option if I knew how to cook.”