Enough(101)

“I’m not sleeping with him.” I spoke calmly even though my gut churned in disgust. “We’re helping each other out.”

He snorted at my words.

“Not like that.” I set hands on hips. “Do you want to hear this? Or you already know the score?”

He rubbed his mouth and met my gaze. “Yeah.”

“Then listen. I’m not repeating this shit.” Nervous energy buzzed in me, but I stayed still. “Remember I told you it was you or no one.” I didn’t wait for him to respond, but pushed ahead. “Well, I didn’t get that it wasn’t what girls normally did, and your brothers have been more than insistent I choose your replacement.”

“Damn pricks.”

“I was ready to leave Barden, start over, but then Jericho and I came to this deal. He asked me to stay, even if I didn’t plan to be an old lady. I’d tell the guys I was claimed, and both of us get some space. Me from the bikers and him from MJ.”

“Really? That much pressure? Seems like overkill.” He smirked at me. “Of course everyone wants you.”

Everyone but him.

“I told Jericho to tell you so I wouldn’t come between you.” No way I’d admit I didn’t want him hurt.

“He’s a bastard sometimes.” He leaned back and tension flowed away. “Why not someone else?”

Oh hell no.

I stood. “None of your business.”

He stood too. “I’m sorry. Should get going.”

I fisted my hands on my hips and blocked his path. “No way you’re driving tonight.” I pointed to the couch. “Go to sleep.”

His jaw tightened, and fight flashed across his face.

I braced myself and then touched his arm. “Dare.” I waited until he looked at me. “We’re friends. Please stay, I don’t want you driving like this.”

“We are?” His words held a hint of surprise, but his face remained blank.

“Yeah, will you sleep it off?”

He nodded, and collapsed back onto the couch.

Digging my heart out with a spoon couldn’t hurt worse than turning from him, knowing I no longer had the right to touch him. His scent, whiskey and man, tempted me. Only one fact held me back.

I’d failed him.

Now, I lived with the pain. Tonight I’d discovered my heart was worse than broken. Part of me, the best part of me, lived inside Dare. Forever broken, I now understood the harshest pain came from my missing parts—the pieces he held.

“Thanks, Red.” The low words floated to me as I reached my bedroom door.

I didn’t even pause because if I slowed now, I’d be on top of him in seconds. And I’d never recover from a mistake of that magnitude.

I quietly closed my door, and crawled under my covers. Staring at the ceiling, tears silently slid down my cheeks. Even drunk, he hadn’t shown the smallest sign of wanting me, only wanting me to stay away from Jericho. Everyone said move on, especially Dare. I wished my heart would get with the program, because it was the only one holding out.





Chapter Thirty: Dare

My phone woke me early and my head only ached instead of the splintering pain hangovers usually brought. I sat up on Red’s couch and last night replayed in my mind.

Why couldn’t I have just drunk dialed? Nope, I went all the way and ended up on her doorstep in the wee hours of the night.

I sat up on the couch, staring at the closed bedroom door. I’d seen the way she’d looked at me last night—she wanted to fuck me. I’d silently prayed she’d do it, make the first move, but she’d walked away from me.

I couldn’t stop staring at her closed bedroom door, it pulled me. We could ride together a bit longer, but sooner or later my past would bring everything crashing down. No, after three months, I could almost walk by her without having to watch my words. It was best this way.

I slipped on my boots and with soft steps I put one foot in front of the other until I reached the door—her door. Just a single look at her asleep and I could make myself leave. I turned the knob and her scent hit me, a sucker punch in the gut—strawberries and honey. The scent of her arousal lingered. Had she lain here last night masturbating while I was passed out on the couch?

My cock hardened when I spotted her closed eyes and freckled cheeks. Her lips parted and the ache in my gut turned into a lead weight. I’d been absolutely positive that this shit feeling, like someone had sliced me from the inside out, would go away, but it lingered, slowly killing me.

No. Stop being weak. Fucking deal with it. Nothing has changed.

My chest tightened and I fought my urges. I stepped back and closed the door, wincing at the quiet snick of the latch. I walked out of her apartment and swore I’d never end up here drunk again, even if I had to use my own restraints to keep my word.