Tied To You (The Rippers MC Series Book 3) by Emily Catlow

Author:Emily Catlow [Catlow, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily Catlow
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

MOLLIE

Later that evening, I come to, lying on the sofa. Travis has my feet on his lap, one hand sprawled on my hip. He chews a pen between his teeth, looking down at a piece of paper in his other hand. I don’t move straight away. I just lay still, glad that he’s home in one piece. Watching him.

“Were you dreaming of me, baby?”

I smile, plumping the pillow under my head. “What makes you ask that?”

He doesn’t look up from the paper. “You were making cute little noises. Sounded like you were enjoying your dream.”

I give him a little nudge with my foot. “No.”

“Who were you dreaming about?”

Sitting up, I turn and immediately lay back down, now resting my head on his lap.

Travis lifts his hand for me to snuggle into him, then places his hand back on my hip.

“Not a who. More like a what,” I say on a yawn.

He leans forward, tossing the paper and the pen to the coffee table. “What was it about?” His big hand starts stroking my hair, untucking it from around my neck.

I close my eyes, seeing my dream like a movie in my head. I take a few minutes just to enjoy his soft touch. “There was a house by the sea. The sun was shining and you and I were there. We were walking along the sand barefoot, you holding my hand.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Hmm.” I yawn again, rolling to my back to look up to him.

He keeps stroking my hair, giving me a wink.

Letting my eyes fall back to closed, I continue. “There was a little boy. He must have been a baby, or a toddler, even. He had dark, wavy hair. He was walking by the water, the waves lapping at his small toes.” I smile to myself. “He was so small, but he didn’t need our hands. I’m not sure who he was, but I could feel he was with us. He was just so… happy. In his hand, he was holding a little toy duck.”

When I open my eyes, the face looking back at me, isn’t what I was expecting. There’s a hollowness to his gaze. A gentle darkness brimming. My eyes look between his as though I’ve missed something. I must have. His eyes blaze like torches. His jaw ticks at the same pace as my now racing heart. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He’s quickly standing, forcing me to roll and move out of the way. He walks to the kitchen, still in my line of sight. His back’s to me as he swings open the fridge, grabbing the milk and tossing it on the side. He goes to close the door, but stalls, reaching down and grabbing a bottle of vodka. With the light from the fridge illuminating his beautiful frame, he throws his head back, taking a disgusting swig. He doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even retch or hiss as he swallows. Then he twists the lid back on the bottle, places it back inside and closes the door.

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