“We’re in a rough neighborhood, and you look like Daddy’s trust fund wrapped up in a sexy little bow just ready for some fucking douche bag to try to unwrap. You’re with me tonight. And I’ll let everyone know it.”
She snapped from his touch and stepped back. The lids of her eyes dropped into slits. “Daddy’s trust fund?” A menacing laugh swayed across her lips from deep in her chest. “My ‘Daddy’ threw me out on my ass when I was seventeen years old with no more than the hundred bucks I had in my back pocket. I was completely cut off, left to fend for myself, with no one to turn to. Just so happens, this pretty little bow I’m wrapped up in I tied myself.” Spinning around yet again, she stomped off toward the bar, determined to reach it without any more interruptions from Rafe.
How dare he! Her blood grew hot, flushing her skin with anger. The success she’d achieved would never be credited to them.
She’d hated her old life, the life she lived under Daddy’s roof. It was a lonely existence in that house. And it was a hell of a lot worse when she was living under the roof of a rotten apartment, cold and empty.
An unwelcome heat seared the backs of her eyes. It was horrible being raised under the microscope, forbidden to experience the joys childhood and youth had to offer. But it was a nightmare, a living, suffering, horrifying nightmare, living in a cesspool of nothing. Staying awake till nearly dawn so she wouldn’t have to sleep at night, in the dark, vulnerable to the scum the shadows held outside her door, and vulnerable to the dreams that awaited her while she slept.
And they’d thrust her into that nightmare. Her family, her parents, cloaked with their own aspirations, tossed her on her ass. All because she’d developed her own ambitions outside the structured interior of their rules. She’d snapped under the weight of their expectations and dared to spread her wings. She’d wanted to find a small taste of life beyond her family’s impostrous world.
She’d been seventeen, primed for new experiences, craving chaos—thirsting for freedom from her isolation. Needing passion and abandon. She had wanted to feel. Something. Anything.
But promiscuity and impulse and lack of inhibitions didn’t portray the facade her parents had contrived. She’d become nothing more than a hindrance to their reputation. They didn’t allow room for mistakes, didn’t offer second chances.
It was hell. Being completely, absolutely alone in the world. It had ripped her open, branded her with a pain and anger so vehement there was no differentiating them.
But she would relive that hell, even knowing how scary and heartbreaking it was—she would relive it all over again just to save herself from turning out like them.
The distinctive clunk of shoes meeting pavement thumped from behind as Rafe strode quickly to catch up with her.
His arrogant mood swing took her by surprise, though really it shouldn’t have surprised her. He embodied the exact characteristics that made up the type. Aggressive, intimidating, unlawfully sexy. Add a touch of asshole to the mix and you’ve got an arrogant wrapped up in a pretty little fucking bow.
Asshole.
“Fuck,” she heard him mumble from behind her. “Fallon, stop.”
She didn’t take orders from men. She gave them. But the mix of power and concern in his voice swayed her. She stopped.
“Dammit. I’m sorry. That was an asshole thing for me to say.”
“Coming from the asshole himself,” she whipped. “You know jack shit about me.”
“Look,” he started, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist, spinning her around to face him. “All I meant was that you’re gorgeous, sexy as fuckin’ sin, and any man within reaching distance will be looking for a grab. That shit doesn’t sit well with me, if you didn’t notice earlier.”
Gently and slowly, he settled his hand back onto the small of her back and stepped into her, positioning her against his body. Hard muscle collided with her stomach, and breasts, and thighs, as he urged her body to contour along his.
Her knees nearly buckled on the spot, but, always a pro at keeping face, she recovered quickly. Yet her skin still felt charged with an electric current. Every inch of her ran along him and she was forced to tilt her head back to see him.
Simmering anger dissipated as she stared at the raw power in his eyes. She felt the same compelling need that she’d felt earlier when she saw him fight. Only this time, instead of distracting him, she wanted to mollify his guilt. Maybe it was his genuineness or maybe she was just out of her mind, but she eased up on the bitchy attitude. At least for the time being. “Apology accepted. Horrible apology, but you call a girl gorgeous and it lets you off the hook a little bit.”