Falling For The Biker - Chapter 69: Chapter 69

Sierra’s POV
I studied his face, trying to spot some amusement in his eyes, but there was none. He could not be possibly serious about that, could he? No one in his right mind would want to be used for an emotional support.
His fingers circled around my waist, his fingers trailing my spine in slow succession under the coat. “You sound like you don’t know what it means,” I said.
“Do I?” he asked with his eyes fixed on my lips.
I placed my hand on his chest and pushed him off me. “You don’t. No man would want that.”
“Want what?”
“Being used, Arthur,” I said, frustrated.
“I’m not any man. I’m a man in love,”
I chuckled. “You don’t sound like you are in your right mind,”
He stepped closer to me. “But I am,”
“You’re alright with me using your emotions to get better. That would hurt… you,”
He shrugged. “If you are happy, then I will be.”
“So you are alright to make me sane enough for another man?”
I saw the emotions in his eyes flicker. He seemed to freeze for a moment with his gaze locked on mine. A smile spread across his face soon after as he held my chin. “You want another man? Could it be Dexter?” he said.
“That’s not what’s important,”
“It is,” he let go of my chin. “You can have any other man except Dexter,”
“Now you want to dictate how to be used?” I raised a brow.
I could see him contemplating before he sighed. “My bad. You can use and dump me when you please,” he said.
Was this how he loved? Ready to be hurt just so I could be happy. I’ve never seen anyone sacrifice for someone else with his own feelings. It was never Vance, and I didn’t think it would be a biker known to play with ladies’ hearts.
“But,” his words brought me out of my thoughts. “I have one request if you will be using me.”
“What?” I asked.
My lips parted as his thumb lined my lips, his eyes deeply rooted on them. It was almost intoxicating. “I want exclusive rights to your lips. That’s all I ask,”
He leaned in, his lips moving closer to mine. With my eyes closed, I waited for it, but it never came. Snapping my eyes open, he lifted me off the ground and laid me on the couch.
“Remind me who was meant to use who?” I teased.
He smiled, tucking some strands of my hair behind my ear. “We can always start tomorrow,”
And with that, he left the house. With the sound of the door locking behind him, I heaved a sigh. Would it be called using him if I admitted to my feelings? I shook my head and headed upstairs to Elvis’ room.
On opening the door, I spotted him seated on the bed, sniffling, while he wiped his tears with his arms. “Elvis,” I called, rushing over to him.
Squatting before him, I held his arm, my eyes darting around his body. “Are you okay? Did you fall? Are you hurt anywhere?” I asked in a panic.
Elvis shook his head, still sniffling. “Mommy, am I the reason you stopped painting?”
I did not expect that question. “No, baby,” I said, taking a seat beside him as I pulled him close.
“Are you lying, Mommy?” he pouted, raising his head to look at me.
“I’m not. You are not and would never be the reason, okay?” I held his face.
“Then why didn’t it work?” he looked down at his feet with a pout.
“What didn’t work, sweetie?”
“I faced my fear so you could face your fear, but it didn’t work,” he frowned.
It took me a moment to realize what he was implying. “You decided to listen to horror stories because you want me to paint?”
He nodded at my question, pushing his lips to the side. “I know you love to paint, Mommy, but you stopped. Daddy always yells at you when you hold a brush and tell you to take care of me. Is that why, Mommy? You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I’m grown now,”
I pulled him in for a hug, rubbing his head. I stayed that way for a while, letting him calm down. He still had tears in his eyes, and I hated the sight of it. When I felt he was calm enough, I pulled away.
“Baby, mommy will always care about you whether or not I paint. You know why?”
He shook his head. “I love you a lot. If I don’t care for you, I will be very sad,” I said.
“Is it because of Daddy?” Elvis asked, completely setting aside what I had said.
“It is Daddy, right?” he went on. “But Daddy isn’t here anymore. He wouldn’t yell at you. And Grandpa said if he does, he would chase him away,”
“You told Dad?” I asked, my eyes widened.
Elvis dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I wanted help,”
I held his face up. “It’s… It’s okay. Why don’t you get to bed first?” I said, trying to get him to lie down, but he resisted.
“Will you paint again, Mommy?”
“Sweetie…”
I tried to refuse, but he crossed his arms, looking away with a pout. “If you don’t agree, then I won’t sleep.”
I turned to the wall clock, and it was late. He could not stay up late for too long or he would be exhausted tomorrow. “Fine,” I agreed. “I’ll paint, but I have no idea what to paint right now. I’ll think about it, okay?”
I pushed him gently on the bed. “Pinky promise you will paint when you have what to paint?” he brought out his pinky.
I sighed, giving up. I wrapped my pinky around his. “Yay, good night, mommy,” he said, shutting his eyes.
I stayed with him in the room to ensure he was fine throughout the night. And when morning came, and I chose to sleep in, a slap landed on my cheeks.