Resist Me(44)

“Good,” I said to her, and turned toward Joe. “I’ll be there.”

I grabbed her by the shoulders and ushered her toward the front of the shop and away from the watchful eyes of her brothers.

“Pissed off?” I asked as I stopped near the door.

“Not with you. Not entirely, at least.” She looked down and bounced on her heels.

“With them?” I motioned with my thumb over my shoulder.

“Yes.” She sighed. “They’re nosy bastards. And you.” She poked me in the chest. “What the fuck are you doing being all touchy-feely with me in front of them?”

“Just letting them know how it is,” I growled, drawing her against me.

She didn’t relax or melt into me like she had done when we were alone. “Only I let them know how it is.”

Moving my head back, I looked down at her and grinned. She was a pussycat. “I’ll behave from here on out.”

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of that sexy-ass mouth.”

“Probably smart.” I laughed, squeezing her tighter as I kissed her lips. Backing away, I stared at her. Her lips were parted and her breathing a bit uneven. She fucking wanted me and she couldn’t hide it any longer. “I’ll be back at seven.”

“Okay,” she whispered as I released her.

As she walked away, I reached out and smacked her ass. “Be ready, doll. There’s no rest for the wicked.”

“Jesus,” she whined. “Will you ever get enough? I ache all over.”

“When it comes to you, the answer is no. I want that body destroyed by the time I head home. I want you to remember who owns that pussy.”

“Caveman asshole.”

“Speaking of which, I want more of that too.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she demanded, shoving me toward the door.

“Until later, doll,” I grunted as I touched her face, letting my fingers slide from her cheek.

I climbed on my bike, heading out to chill on the beach for the day and catch some rays. I’d be back for Izzy well rested and ready to ravage her body all night long. I didn’t want to miss a moment together. I’d have her ass loving me and wanting no one else but me before I walked out the door tomorrow.





Chapter 11 - Sunday Fuckin’ Funday





After two nights with James, my body ached like I’d done the Tough Mudder obstacle course. Just peeing was a major issue. Everything hurt—even my face from smiling too much. James had entered my life like a hurricane, slowly building over time and then creating total and utter devastation in his path.

I’d always lived my life like a free spirit. I never gave a fuck what anyone thought of me and I was never apologetic for my actions. The words “slut” and “whore” left a bad taste in my mouth and made me want to rip the nuts off any man who’d muttered them. I acted like many men did; I used people for the physical aspect but never promised them anything more. I wasn’t into relationships or being tied down. Having a man tell me what to do and how to act was my biggest fear, and something I’d run from at every opportunity.

Men seemed okay with how I behaved for the most part. Only a few had hurled insults because they’d wanted more. Those boys had ended up on the floor, gripping their balls and crying like babies. Each one of them had thought they could get me, capture my attention long enough for me fall in love, and be the one. They hadn’t been man enough to be worthy of my time, let alone a lifetime of sacrifice.

After having spent thirty-six hours with James, I knew I needed to end it. Not because he wasn’t worthy of my time, but because he was too much of what I wanted. There was a problem. I wasn’t ready for someone like James to come crashing into my life and turn shit upside down.

When I opened my eyes this morning and watched him sleep, I knew what I had to do. I needed to gracefully bow out of whatever the fuck this was. James was a big boy and I was sure he’d understand. Maybe I could be his hookup when we both had an itch that needed to be scratched.

I knew I was scared, but fear was enough to make me lash out and run away. James had a way about him that altered the axis on which I teetered. I knew how I liked my life—uncomplicated and simple. He was a complication of epic proportions.

No one bossed me around—not even my four very demanding brothers. When James bossed me around, I bowed and said, “Yes, master,” giving more of myself than I ever had with anyone.

“You ready, Izzy?” James asked, walking out of the bathroom as I sipped my coffee.

Setting it down on the counter, I turned to face him. God, he looked amazing. He wore a plain black t-shirt that clung to every inch of his torso and arms, and dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs. His feet were bare. The fucked-up part of it all was that I even loved his motherfucking feet.