He continued sliding his hand down his chest, his abs, and then over his hard-on. If he was still wearing his jeans, and Reilly his shirt, he could safely assume they hadn’t had crazy drunken sex last night.
Thank fuck.
Because if he was going to break that particular rule, he, at least, wanted to remember it.
Her mouth was parted and her long, messy blonde hair covering most of her face. After sweeping a few strands away until he exposed the scar along her temple, he lightly traced a finger over it.
It didn’t take away from her looks at all but he knew it reminded her of the mistake she made by letting a violent fuckwad named Billy Warren into her life.
The motherfucker had tried to kill her twice. Rev had just missed witnessing the second attempt. He’d been on a damn test drive when the psycho ex-boyfriend showed up at Dutch’s Garage with a bat.
Thank fuck for Rook. Though they didn’t talk about it, Reilly owed her life to him. He’d been out back getting stoned, while Whip had been out in the yard looking for a used part, when the fucker tried to hit a home run using Reilly’s head as the baseball.
While Rev hadn’t been the one to make Billy Warren pay, he now wished he had been.
Rev remembered Warren’s cocky laugh even though the guys had him on the ground, on his knees and surrounded. The asshole was so fucking arrogant he hadn’t shown any fear, even though every one of Rev’s brothers wanted to kill him when he kept running his mouth.
“This is why you got to teach them a fucking lesson. Teach them obedience. It’s what they want. In the end, they thank you for it…”
Unfortunately, Billy Warren wasn’t the only man who believed that females should learn to be obedient.
He stared through the windshield at the house he grew up in. Inside was a man who followed very similar thinking. The same belief that a woman should serve her man. It surprised Rev that Warren had the misconception that Reilly would be one of those women.
Even though he had showed up to kill her, that day she hadn’t been scared of him, either. Not one fucking bit.
Her being that kind of woman was the reason he almost killed her the first time. For refusing to curl up into a ball and hand over everything she owned and worked for to the grifter.
Hell no. Reilly would not simply roll over and let him win that easily. Which was why she ended up in the hospital beat to fuck. It was also why she ended up with that scar she fussed with.
That day at the garage, Rev had been holding Reilly back from attacking Warren when she hissed, “What the hell did I ever see in you?”
“My big dick. You liked it in your mouth and in your fucking ass.”
She had actually snarled like a feral cat and began to struggle to get free by clawing at Rev’s arms hard enough to draw blood. Even as feisty as she was, he’d managed to keep hold of her. Barely.
“I hope you get fucked up the ass in prison, asshole!”
That might have been the exact moment Rev began to lust after her.
Warren then blowing her a smart-ass kiss had been the final straw that turned Reilly into an out-of-control, hissing, spitting wild woman.
Knowing if he let her go, she’d run over and kick Warren’s ass had actually made his dick begin to chub up. At least until Warren threatened, “I’ll just find you again when I get out, baby. I look forward to getting a piece of that tight ass again. And next time you might remember the lesson I taught you about sharing what’s yours with your man.” Warren was lucky Rev’s job was to hold onto Reilly, otherwise, he would’ve kicked in that bastard’s teeth.
As it was, they made sure there was no “next time” and definitely a “never again.” The Amish unknowingly tilled Warren’s ashes into one of the fields on the farm. Hell, he and his brothers probably ate some of the produce fertilized with his ashes.
Circle of fucking life.
The man inside the house Rev was now parked in front of had also given him life. And, really, Rev should be the one to take his. But John Schmidt would get his karma soon enough. Rev just needed patience and to let nature take its course. Waiting for the cancer to do its job would keep Rev out of prison but, in the end, the result would be the same.
He needed to remember that, no matter how much his old man baited him. No matter how much Rev wanted to strangle the fuck out of the man who created him. No matter how much Rev wanted to smother him with a fucking pillow.
He pulled in a long breath through his nostrils and blindly reached for his coffee and, as he took a long pull of caffeine, he kept his eyes glued on the house. Nothing moved inside, nothing moved outside.
He fuzzily remembered Reilly mentioning last night about how the house and the people inside reminded her of a B-rated horror flick. Also, that she and Rev had reminded her of a young couple in one of those movies, going into the house and never escaping alive.
He was pretty sure she was drunk by that point. But drunk or not, she wasn’t far off.
Staring at the house now, stuck in the driver’s seat, dread was swallowing him whole. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with going back inside, seeing his disapproving mother and his dying father. But he couldn’t assess his father’s health and how long he might have left without doing so.
Plus, he wanted to give the dying man a memory to take to his grave. Rev’s face watching karma do its job.
This morning, only one vehicle was parked in the driveway, so he doubted that Pastor Thomas or Matthew was around. At least, not yet.
Out of all of them, Rev could probably stomach dealing with Matthew. Though, he couldn’t stomach how submissive his uncle’s wife seemed to be. Submissive women were a big turn-off for Rev. He couldn’t imagine fucking a woman who didn’t have any fire inside her.
Like Reilly did.
Or hell, any of the Fury women. Once Red had broken free of her trance-like state and her true personality had been exposed, she wasn’t nearly as quiet as they all originally thought. It only took a bit for the cracks in her shell to begin to seal themselves up and for her to become close to whole again.
In truth, she had to be a strong woman to deal with Sig and his easily-ignited temper.
He could only imagine that fucking Matthew’s wife was like fucking a half-deflated blow-up doll. Without lube.
No, a good fuck involved fast and furious skin-slapping, sweat dripping, hair pulling, biting, scratching and plenty of loud vocal encouragement. If a woman didn’t make him struggle to keep from popping a nut within a minute or two, then he had no interest in fucking her a second time.
He needed to stop thinking those kind of thoughts while sitting in front of his parents’ house. Now was not the right time to get a damn boner. He couldn’t put off going inside much longer and he’d prefer to do that erection free.
Especially since the last time his mother saw him with one was when Michael was in Sarah’s bed all those years ago. A natural response from him turned into a very unnatural, unforgiving response from her. One he’d never forget.
That was also the day he began plotting his escape.
“Fuck it,” he muttered and climbed out of the truck. He needed to suck it up and get this over with, then head back to the motel to check on Reilly.
He strode to the front door and, when he tried the knob, found it locked. Cupping his hands around the sides of his face, he pressed it to one of the narrow windows alongside the door. Like earlier, he neither saw or heard movement inside.