I forced my lips away from his, and took in quick gasps of air, trying to catch my breath. "Heart attack?" I asked.
He smacked his hand on the wall, shaking the pictures. "No!" He ripped the top of my dress down, exposing the white lace of my bra. He dipped his head, licking a path across the round mound before pushing the lace away, and taking my nipple between his teeth.
My body arched at the delicious assault, and I knotted my fingers in his long hair. My eyes fluttered shut, and I absorbed every luscious swipe of his tongue.
His mouth closed over my nipple, and he moved up my body. My panties were soaking wet with want, and it was killing me that he was keeping his attention elsewhere. It dawned on me then that he wasn't losing. He was winning. He was pushing me to the point where I was so consumed with desire that I would be begging for him to touch me the way I so desperately wanted him to.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay strong. I focused my energy back on talking. "If it wasn't cancer, or a heart attack, what was it?" I asked, and his mouth stilled. I laced my fingers into his dirty blond strands, and brought his face to mine.
"Drop it," he spat.
A storm brewed in his light green eyes, causing them to darken. Pain etched at the corners, and his jaw ticked.
"Tell me," I pleaded, running my fingers up his neck.
"Damn it, Aubree!" he yelled, and hit his hand against the wall again, this time causing a picture to fall to the floor. I didn't know what I was more shocked at: the fact that he remembered my real name or the anger pouring out of him in waves.
He buried his face in his hands as he visibly shook with rage. He walked away from me, and sat down on the arm of the sofa. I didn't know what to do, or what to say, but I couldn't just stand there. I walked over to him, and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I just want to know," I said.
He shot up then, his face red with fury. "You just want to know!" he yelled and moved toward me. I backed away until I was trapped between him and the wall. His eyes were wild, and the pain from moments ago was amplified mixed with a disturbing darkness. "Do you want to know that my old man was shot and killed by a rival club? That I was there, and I wasn't able to protect him? That he died in my arms, and there was nothing I could fucking do about it? Do you? Is that what you want to know?!" He rammed his hand into the wall again. "Do you?"
Fear passed through me, but was only momentary as it was replaced with heartbreak. He wasn't going to hurt me. It was the complete opposite, actually. He was the one who was hurt. This big burly tattooed man, with a take no shit attitude, was broken. I didn't know in how many pieces, but I wanted to. More than that, I wanted to help him in some way. I just wasn't sure how to do that. Cash was an enigma. He lived in a world I really knew nothing about. Regardless, I still felt the pain of his loss and needed to do something.
I reached out to him, wanting to comfort him, to try and take the pain away, but he swatted at my hand. "Don't fucking touch me," he seethed.
I should have walked away and never looked back. Found the strength to leave him behind, but, instead, I decided it was best for me stay. I dropped to my knees in front of him, and took his hands in mine.
He snatched his hands out of my grip, but I didn't let it deter me. He was trying to push me away, and I wasn't going to let him. So, I reached out again, taking his hands back in mine.
He looked at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he knew I wasn't going anywhere. I was exactly where I needed to be. "You're going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want to get rid of me," I said, looking up into his eyes.
He smirked and shook his head. "Even if you left, you'd still be here, he said, smacking his hand against his head. "You're in my fucking head. No matter what I do, I can't stop thinking about you. It's making me fucking crazy. I'm losing my edge and that is dangerous in my world."
"Good, because I can't stop thinking about you either," I said, a slight smile tugging at the edges of my mouth.
His lip curled, and he shoved my hands at me. "Good? Good! It's not fucking good. I told you. I don't do monogamy, but, ever since you walked into that bar, you've knocked me on my fucking ass. So, no, this isn't fucking good. This is a goddamned nightmare."
"Why? Because you might have to sleep with only one girl? God forbid!" I exclaimed.
"You were only supposed to be a one night thing."
"What do you want from me? To apologize for it? Because I won't. I will not stand here and tell you I'm sorry that I want to get to know you, or that I enjoy being with you. That you are everything my parents are against, and I don't care. Because the only thing I care about is that I want you."
"Then you're a fucking idiot." He shot up and stormed away, running a hand through his hair. He came to a stop, his back to me.
Heartbreak got pushed aside by the anger surging through me. I stood up, and walked over to him until I was only a few feet away. "So maybe I am. Maybe I'm a fucking idiot, but at least I'm not afraid to admit to what I want!" I yelled, letting the anger pour out.
He gripped his hair, tugging at the roots. He spun around, his hands latching on to the sides of my arms. "Don't you fucking get it? My life is too goddamned dangerous for you."
I shook my head, refusing to accept that. "I don't care."
His grip on me tightened, but then he shoved me away from him. "Goddamn it." He took a deep breath, and the darkened fury that had engulfed him was slowly slipping away. "You should care. My dad was the toughest son of a bitch I had ever known, and all it took was one bullet to end that." He held his finger up. "One." He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "Guns and violence are a part of me. If you want me, then you want that life, too. There are no country clubs and stylists in my world."
"Good because I'm sick of that life."
A rush of air pushed through his lips. "You think you are, but, once you're done slumming, you'll be dying to go back to it. And I'll just be an embarrassing memory that you keep hidden. That you'll do everything in your power to forget."
‘That's not true!" I yelled, grabbing his arm and yanking him to me.
He ripped out of my grip. "Yes, it is! I don't know what the fuck you expect from me, but, whatever it is, you're not going to get it. So, it's best if you just leave." He walked away from me, and the tears I had been fighting finally pushed their way to the surface. They spilled down my cheeks, and I hated that he made me cry. That I was weak enough to let him. Stupid enough to think a guy like him would ever want to be with a girl like me.
I was too good. Too pure. The most dangerous thing I had ever done in my life was getting on the back of his motorcycle. When I was around him, I stopped over-thinking everything. Stopped trying to be someone I wasn't. He might not have wanted me, and it broke me to a thousand tiny shards, but at least now I knew there was more out there in the world. That my life wasn't confined to country clubs and stylists and the likes of William.
I found him in the kitchen, guzzling a bottle of beer. Without thinking, I went up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his back. "I'll never forget you," I said as I relished in his warmth, and committing his scent to memory, so I could bring it back and savor it down the road.
I let go, knowing this was the end, and walked away, refusing to look back. Fresh tears fell from my lids as I accepted the loss of something I felt could have been great.
I got to the doorway when his hand clamped down on mine, and yanked me back to him. His other hand came to my face, holding me as his thumb brushed away my tears.
"Don't go Sunshine," he pleaded. "I need you right now," he whispered and crushed his lips to mine. All the emotions that were swirling inside of me combusted and I poured them into the kiss. He reached for the hem of my dress and pulled it up. "Lift your arms," he commanded. "I need this off of you now!" he barked as he gruffly tugged it over my head and threw it to the floor in a heap.
Wanting to feel his skin against mine, I hooked my fingers into the hem of his shirt, and yanked it over his head. His hand came back to my face as he guided us down the hall. I raked my fingers up and down his abs, absorbing his heat and feeling every hard ridge.