It takes me a second to register the sight in front of me, but when I do, my heart drops to my stomach and my breath hitches in my throat. Memphis has one hand wrapped around Trevor’s throat, shoving him against the wall. Every muscle in his arm is tense. His face is so close to Trevor’s that they’re almost touching. I’ve never seen Memphis look so lethal.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Memphis slams him against the wall again, but harder this time. “I thought you’d grow out of this shit by now, you dumb motherfucker.” Trevor reaches out, but Memphis knocks his hand out of the way, evidently not done with him yet. “Back the fuck off her. Don’t fucking touch her again. I’m fighting my hardest not to fuck you up here, but next time there will be no controlling it. Got it?”
“Dude.” Trevor finally gets Memphis to release his throat, but Memphis doesn’t back up far enough to let Trevor move much. He’s towering over him, with his muscles flexed and prepared to fight. “You’re going to fight me over this bitch; your best friend? She’s just some fucking girl. She means nothing. What happened to you behind those fucking bars? We had a bro code and you broke it. We are supposed to have each other’s back.”
Memphis turns his face away for a second, his jaw clenched, before he turns around and punches Trevor in the mouth.
Trevor’s head flies back into the building and he reaches out to touch the blood on his lip. “Fuck you, Memphis!”
“Come on. Let’s go.” Ignoring Trevor, Memphis wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me alongside him to his motorcycle.
“You haven’t changed either, Memphis!” Trevor shouts from behind us. “You still can’t control your anger. It’s only a matter of time before you let it happen again!”
Memphis freezes for a second, grinding his jaw, before he places the helmet on my head and helps me on the bike behind him. I can tell that he’s trying with everything in him not to go back over there and pummel Trevor. “Hold on tight.”
AFTER WE PULL UP IN Memphis’ driveway he cuts the engine, but just stays on his motorcycle. He doesn’t make an attempt to move, so neither do I.
“You should go inside,” he says. “It’s raining.”
I think about staying on his bike and just holding him, but then I remember that I’m supposed to be staying away from him. He doesn’t want me like I want him. I need to remember that and move on.
Getting off his bike, I set his helmet down in his lap and start walking through the grass toward my house. I’m so cold by this point that I can barely walk. My legs feel numb from my soaked clothing.
I only get a few feet away before I feel Memphis wrap his arms around my waist and pull me against his body. His jacket is now open, so he wraps me up inside of it, and I instantly cuddle up against his chest to keep warm. It feels so damn good being in his arms. It feels . . . safe.
“Sorry. It wasn’t raining when I left,” he says softly. “I’m being an ass. Come on. You need to get warm.”
Letting go of me, he takes his jacket off and drapes it over my shoulders, while leading me back toward his house.
“Memphis . . .” I try to stop walking, but he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “Put me down so I can go home.”
“You’re not going home.” He pushes the front door open and nods to Alex as he smiles up at us from the couch.
“Nice, bro. Try not to scare her off.” He stands up as Memphis turns down the hallway. “I’ll kick his ass if you need me to, Lyric. Just yell for me.”
I can’t help but to smile at Alex. He’s so damn cute, and somewhat irresistible. Unlike Memphis, he probably doesn’t have to kidnap girls to get them in his room.
I wait for Memphis to throw me down on his bed before I jump to my feet and shove his chest. All he does is look down into my eyes, holding me captive. One look. That one look brings me to my knees and causes me to surrender. I feel soft now. All my anger is gone.
“I should go home, Memphis.”
He ignores me. Without a word he strips himself down to his boxers, before reaching out to undress me. “Stay.”
All I can manage to do is look at his face while he concentrates on slowly undressing me. That look always gets me. He doesn’t seem so tough then. He seems gentle and caring.
“I’m not having sex with you,” I say as firmly as I can. It’s a struggle, a big struggle, because in all honesty I want to make love to him. I want him to take me in every way.
Grabbing me by the waist he pulls me into bed with him and wraps us both under the blanket. “I’m not trying to have sex with you. If I were . . . you’d know.” He pulls me as close as possible and starts rubbing my arms and legs. “I’m trying to warm you up so you don’t get sick. My mom used to do this when I was a small kid,” he says softly. “Just let me do something right for once.”