“Please,” I call over my shoulder. Or rather pant. “Just…” I struggle to find the wind to finish my sentence. “Leave me alone.”
“Can’t do that, Love,” he says, the endearment just as spine-tingling in this moment as it was when he whispered it in my room. Hey! You’re running for your life, dumbass! Stop finding shit sexy about your potential abductor.
“Why?” I ask, thinking of how absurd it is to keep running if I’m still going to carry on a conversation with him.
“’Cause you’re not in the best part of town.” Noticing my surroundings, I find myself in the deepest part of the projects Hattiesburg has to offer. Shit. Only I would run in the wrong direction.
Considering my chances of being killed by a stray bullet, he suddenly doesn’t seem that damn scary. Plus I’m on the verge of dying from exhaustion anyway. So I stop. My hands rest on my knees as I lean over and greedily fill my lungs with the cold night air. I’ve noticed he’s stopped too, but is still several feet behind me. And the bastard ain’t even winded. Good thing. I need all the oxygen for myself.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The low voice I once found threatening is now soothing in the quiet night.
“Well, you did,” I snap, turning around to face him. So much for all that work…I’m winded again just at the sight of him. In the glow of the streetlight, he appears larger than I remember. But there’s something soft and welcoming about his eyes. He’s wearing his cut, and I mean wearing it.
The thick black leather seems to mold to his shoulders and chest. Chains cover his stomach, connecting the two sides. The black hood from his sweater is pulled over his head, and stops just above his green eyes that seem to sparkle even in the darkness. He looks like a beast. A very sexy beast. A beast that fucks me hard and makes me come even harder.
“I said I didn’t mean to scare you. I meant it. If I did, I apologize. I won’t apologize again.” Clearly, he’s telling me to fucking drop it. And for some reason, I fucking want to.
“Sorry I ran.” I don’t know why I’m apologizing, but I hold my breath in anticipation of him accepting my apology.
“It’s okay.” And just like that, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
Yes, I know I was running from this big scary man only moments ago. No, I don’t want to discuss the level of fucked up this brings me to. We’ve already established I have issues. Moving forward.
“You remind me of someone from my past. Old memories were triggered. Memories Luke helped me to forget and fears he helped me to overcome. You awakened them. I haven’t felt that way in a really long time. It was…scary and foreign to me.”
Curiosity sparks in his eyes at my admission. “You’re not afraid when I’m fucking you.” My body sizzles at the reminder.
“That was…different.”
“Different?” Boy, he just doesn’t want to let this go.
“Well, when we’re fucking you’re…I don’t know…” I throw my hands up in confusion. “Nothing you did reminded me of him. But tonight I saw some of him in you.”
His face darkens, and I instantly feel guilty. “You’ll tell me about him one day. But right now, we need to get back.”
I’ll tell him? Can he not ask? I start to come back with some snarky remark, but his demand awakens something inside me. Something I don’t fear. Something I long for. Something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until this moment.
Control.
We walk in comfortable silence back to my car. Once we’re there, he opens the door for me, puts the keys in the ignition and even buckles my seatbelt. I don’t particularly enjoy the over-show of affection, but I refrain from saying anything.
“Go straight home,” he says, his face so close to mine I can smell the cool whiskey scent of his breath. “I’ll be a few minutes behind you.” He doesn’t wait for my response. He just closes the door and walks away.
I really want some chocolate. I would give my left tit for a Skor bar. I’m determined to stop and get one. Not just to defy him, but because, dammit, I’m a grown woman. I can do what I want. I want to fight against that urge to let him control me. But even my determination isn’t enough to persuade that submissive girl I thought was buried deep inside me. Before I realize it, I’m already home.
Not just the clubhouse.
Not just my place of employment.
Home.
Sneaking back through my bedroom window like a teenage girl, I barely have it shut before I feel eyes on me. Turning, I find Red and Dallas sitting on my bed.
“We need to establish some ground rules,” I say, knowing good and damn well they won’t work. “Don’t come in my room unless you’re invited. By me.” Glancing at the locked door, I frown. “How the hell did y’all get in anyway?”
“The window.” Red shrugs, reaching for the duffel in my hands. Jerking it out of her reach, I give her a look of warning. She just rolls her eyes.
“Don’t come into my room again without my permission. Understood?” They both nod in agreement. “Good. Do you need this shit right now?”
“Yes,” they say, a little too urgently. Idiots.
The next ten minutes of my life are wasted rolling them three perfect fat blunts with Hattiesburg’s finest weed, while they sit in silence and watch. Until Red speaks. “I can roll a blunt, ya know.”
I give her an incredulous look. “You tell me that now?”
“Well, it’s been a while. I figured you could do it better.”
“Well…” I start, mocking her annoying voice that really isn’t very annoying. “You can bet your ass I won’t be doing it again.”
Handing them the cigars, I offer my best fake smile before lifting my window. “Get out.” Too excited about their soon high to be bothered with my curt dismissal, they exit the same way they entered.
I lock the window behind them, then strip down to my evening attire—cutoff shorts and a “Support Your Local Renegades” tank. Taking one final look in the mirror, I darken my red lips and fluff my hair before walking into the main room, ready to get the night started, but not as anxious as I am for it to end.
I find myself looking for him all night. Every time the door opens, I wait in anticipation for his face. When I don’t see it, a feeling of disappointment I’m not comfortable with courses through my body. By two a.m., I decide I hate him. I hate him for not being here. I hate that my body craves him. I hate I feel this way when I really want to feel nothing. But mostly, I hate that I don’t hate him at all.
It’s been a slow night. I’ve spent most of my time on my phone, playing a stupid game that’s highly addictive and makes me borderline crazy. Tonight I’ve been nothing more than a pretty face to look at. And that’s pushing it. The guys here have been more interested in their endless pool games than they have with me. But I give them beer when they need it, and I even pop popcorn. So I’m doing my job.
“Go to bed, Delilah.” I look up from my phone to find Scratch in front of me smiling. “We’re good here.”
“I don’t mind, really.” As I say it, I can feel a yawn forming. I fight like hell against it, but there’s no stopping those damn things.
“Goodnight, babe.” He leans over the counter and grabs a beer, placing a sloppy, wet kiss on my cheek.
“As long as y’all are up, I’m up.” He shakes his head and shrugs. As bad as I want to go to bed, the desire to do my job and do it well is greater. All the other women have abandoned me. This isn’t the first time I’ve been the last girl standing, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“You really don’t listen, do you?” Something warm spreads through me at the sound of Bryce’s voice. My heart even stutters a little. Weird.
“What’s the fun in that?” I ask, smiling up at him. He looks tired, like he hasn’t had sleep in some time. I’m reminded that he’s been up longer than I have. Still, he looks incredible.
“Come on.” Snatching my phone from my fingers, he tucks it inside his cut. “We’re going to bed.”
“I’m good.”
“Delilah.” The way he says my name…that underlying meaning and evident warning in his voice…it does something to me. Scratch could tell me to go to bed all day, hell, he could even scream it. But it doesn’t have near the effect Bryce’s one-word demand has. And all he said was my name.
I join him on the other side of the bar, and look up into his bloodshot eyes that look like they’ll close just any moment. He gestures with his hand toward the hall and my feet immediately start moving in that direction.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt the entire walk to my room. I’m nervous, anxious and overwhelmed by his presence. I like it, and I don’t. A part of me wants to turn and run again, the other wants to know what this night has in store.
Will he want to fuck me again?
Do I want him to fuck me again?
Well, hell yeah. My thighs clench together at just the thought.
“Are we going to fuck?” I blurt out, turning to face him just outside my closed door.