Vexed Page 11

  A slight smile quirks at the corner of his mouth.

  I grab more clothes and cram them into my backpack, along with my wallet and a few other small things I don’t want to leave behind. I have a feeling I won’t be coming back here. Ever. “And no, I didn’t. I’m not…I’m not like that. You’re my only—” How dare he, when he’s got girls crawling all over his clubhouse waiting to jump into his bed. “How many of your club girls serviced you since I left?”

  For some reason, that wipes the smirk off his face. “None. And I don’t give a fuck if you believe me.”

  I want to call bullshit. Except, his face is so tight with emotion he doesn’t want me to see, it makes me think he might be telling the truth. I stop and sit next to him on the bed, sliding my hand over his. He doesn’t snatch his hand back, but he doesn’t look at me either.

  “You don’t like being vulnerable, do you?”

  He finally turns his head just enough for me to see the conflict flickering in his dark eyes. “I can’t afford to be vulnerable in this life.” He slips his hand out from underneath mine and runs the back of his hand over my cheek. “You make me vulnerable.”

  Oh my God. Did he really just admit that to me? Maybe he doesn’t hate me after all. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “Yeah, it is. Setting aside the whole sneaking out of bed and leaving in the middle of the night with nothing more than a fucking note thing—”

  “I’m sorry—” He places his finger over my lips and continues.

  “Some guy called and told me he was gonna hurt you, and I didn’t even hesitate to ride out here with five of my brothers to rescue you. Didn’t think about any consequences.”

  I fidget with my now empty hands in my lap. “Thank you.” My voice barely registers over the thundering in my ears. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Sneaking out in the middle of the night? Dragging my club into a war we can’t afford?”

  “All of it. I didn’t think—”

  “Yeah, you didn’t think. You took your walk on the wild side, got the biker thug to pop your cherry and took off.”

  Wait. He’s more than angry. “I hurt your feelings?”

  He glares at me. “No.”

  “Reed, you can be vulnerable with me.”

  “No. I can’t.” His gaze roams over my face and I don’t think he likes what he sees. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Reed—”

  “I asked about your plans. You should have—”

  “I thought you’d try to stop me.”

  “Looks like someone should have tried to stop you.” The insinuation that I got myself into this mess because I’m so naive—even though it’s true—sends fire through my veins. The pissed-off kind of fire that makes me say stupid things.

  “You know what? Screw you. I was doing fine out here. If I hadn’t met you, this never would have happened.”

  Whoops. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to yank them back, but it’s too late.

  He stands, jaw tight, hands fisted. “You’re puttin’ this on me?” Disbelief drips from every word he spits out.

  Stupid pride won’t allow me to keep my mouth shut. I stand and face him, fury making me say things I hate, even as they’re tumbling off my tongue. “Yes. He saw me wearing your shirt, and that’s why he got the idea to call you for ransom.”

  “You have any idea what a guy like him would do to you if I’d said no? If I hadn’t risked my ass, my club, and a wad of cash to rescue you?”

  “I would have told him to call my parents.” My voice isn’t sure or convincing.

  He nods in understanding and smirks. But it’s devoid of any humor. “You’re one ungrateful little bitch, Athena, you know that?”

  “Fuck you. Don’t call me a bitch.”

  He closes in on me, vibrating with such tension, I take a step back. “You’re acting like one. You stole my motherfuckin’ shirt and somehow that makes it my fault you got yourself in trouble?”

  It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m too tired and pissed off to check myself. “Yes.”

  He shakes his head and storms toward the door. “Unbelievable.” He turns and gives me one last look. “Get your ass downstairs in the next five minutes or I’m leaving without you.”

  Suddenly I’m wondering if it’s such a good idea for me to go with him.

  Five minutes later, I find myself downstairs. He wasn’t kidding. He and the guys who came with him are on their bikes, ready to go. Shame washes over me when I wonder how much of our fight they overheard.

  I recognize Dante in the group, but I’m too embarrassed to say anything to him. I’m grateful that he thought I was worth saving too. All of these men came here to rescue me because of their loyalty to Romeo, and all I did was say a lot of mean shit to him.

  “Reed, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

  “Get on.” He shoves a helmet in my hands and waits until I strap it on myself.

  “Wait. What about my car?”

  “Prospect will drive it back.”

  I glance at his bike again. Such a long drive.

  “Romeo—”

  “Athena, my patience is nil right about now. I need to get you the fuck out of here before the fuckers looking for Snake show up. The less his club knows about you, the safer you’ll be.”

  Reluctantly, I climb on behind him and we take off.

  Hours later, I can’t take any more. It’s hot. I’m starving, sweating, and thirsty. I hurt everywhere from being tied to the bed half the night.

  “Romeo. Please, can we stop?” I shout over his shoulder.

  He pulls off, and his brothers who’d been traveling with us follow.

  “What?” he snaps once he shuts the bike down. I swing my leg over and hop off so fast I almost fall on my ass.

  “I can’t. I can’t do anymore on the bike. I hurt everywhere.” I show him my raw wrists, hoping he’ll have some mercy on me.

  He stares at me for a few seconds before seeming to come to a decision.

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  He stalks over to the other guys and they talk, while I stand there drowning in misery. My head snaps up when the bikes roar to life. Romeo returns by himself and he’s definitely not in a talkative mood, so I keep quiet while he studies his phone.

  Finally, he glances up. “You need to use the bathroom or something?”

  “I guess.”

  His exasperation with me is clear by the way he waves his hand at the building behind me. I scurry in, do my thing and hurry back before he has a conniption.

  I groan when I climb back on the bike, but at least this time we’re not riding for long. He pulls into a reasonably decent looking motel, parking by the office. I hop off before he has to ask and follow him inside.

  “Two beds,” he corrects the desk clerk when he tries to stick us with one king bed.

  Great.

  Romeo grabs two takeout menus and walks out without even looking at me. This silent treatment is getting annoying.

  We stop at his bike and he throws my bag at me without a word, grabs his own stuff, then enters a room near the office.

  Inside the doorway, he stops and points at the far bed. “I’ll take the bed by the door. You take that one.”

  “Okay.”

  I set my bag down and dig through for my toothbrush and something to sleep in.

  “Go clean up. I’ll order a pizza—if that’s okay with you.” The way he says it doesn’t sound as if it’s up for discussion. Without answering, I head into the bathroom.

  Once I’m under the hot shower spray, all the events of the past few days slam into me with the force of a brick wall. Refusing to cry in front of Romeo, I’ve held back all afternoon. The hot water stings my raw wrists, but that’s not the reason I slide down to the floor and finally let all my tears free.

  Athena walks out of the bathroom in a T-shirt I recognize as mine—the one she said started this whole mess, I assume.

  Christ, she’s got her hair in two
braids, punching me in the gut with memories of our time together. Fun, playful, fucking.

  Nothing about this situation is fun. And we’re definitely not fucking tonight. No matter how fucking cute she is in those braids.

  Only choice I got is to keep things cool between us. Learned a valuable lesson earlier. While all along I’d been worried I was too old for her, it turned out she’s too young for me.

  No fucking way am I going there again. My life was fine before she came into it, and it will be fine again once I get her out of it.

  I’m not a complete asshole, though. While she was in the shower, I ordered pizza, sodas, and ran over to the office for a first aid kit.

  I lay out gauze, ointment, and a few other things, while she sits on the end of the bed and finishes braiding her hair.

  Her big eyes follow my every movement, so I pretend I don’t know she’s there. Don’t know she’s watching. When I’m finished, I flick my hand at her. “Come here.”

  She scurries over. Eyes still big, and scared. I grab her right hand and check her wrist. Should have taken a better look at it back in California. The skin’s red, and bruised, but any bleeding stopped a while ago. Still looks awful and I’m pissed with myself for not getting in a few punches to Snake’s face before we left.

  I smooth on some ointment and wind a clean piece of gauze around her wrist, secure it, then do the same for her other arm.

  The television’s loud, drowning out any chance of conversation. When I’m finished bandaging her wrists, she sighs and sits in the chair next to me to eat.

  When we’re finished, I clean off the table. When I’ve done every last thing I can to ignore her, I finally spare her a glance. “Get some sleep. We’re leaving early in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  She tucks herself into the bed and I barely resist the urge to pull her into my arms, kiss her, and make everything right.

  Fuck that.

  I kick the bathroom door closed and take one long motherfuckin’ shower, praying like fuck she’s asleep when I’m done.

  Wish granted.

  She’s facing away from the light, so I can’t take one more look at her pretty face.

  I set an alarm, shut everything off, and slide into my bed alone.

  16

  My chattering teeth wake me. Sleeping in a paper bag would be warmer than under the scratchy motel blanket. I blink a few times and can just barely make out the room. Romeo’s in the bed next to me, sound asleep. If I slip in next to him, maybe I can get warm and if I’m lucky, defrost him too.

  I pull the covers back and he startles. The bed dips under me, even though I try to move as quietly as possible.

  “What’re you doing?” he mumbles.

  “I’m freezing.”

  He grunts and turns over, but at least he doesn’t kick me out.

  Still freezing, I snuggle up against his back, soaking in his warmth.

  Somehow I sink back into sleep only to wake sometime later cuddled in Romeo’s arms. I almost weep with happiness, until I realize he’s still asleep.

  Well, at least his subconscious doesn’t hate me.

  His head’s sort of resting on my shoulder, his nose buried against my neck. Warm breath drifts over my skin, comforting me. One of his arms bands around my middle, holding me tight.

  I’m almost asleep again when his thumb brushes against my breast. A sharp intake of breath and he seems to come fully awake.

  “Athena?”

  “Please don’t make me leave. I’m cold.”

  He doesn’t answer with words, but his hand slides down my belly, pushing up under my shirt. I let out a hiss of air when his rough hand brushes against my bare stomach, glides over my ribs, and roughly palms my breast.

  “Take your shirt off,” he demands in a low voice against my ear.

  I wriggle out of it and toss it on my bed. While I’m distracted, he takes one nipple between his lips and sucks hard.

  “Oh,” I gasp in surprise. Then gasp again when his hand dips under my panties, and without any delay, shoves one finger inside me. The sound of how wet I am from being next to him makes me blush. Thankfully he can’t see my red cheeks in the dark.

  He pulls his hand away and sits up. His fingers dig into my sides as he grabs my underwear, yanking it down my legs.

  “Reed?”

  He still doesn’t say anything. But he shoves his boxer briefs down. The air around us is thick with our heavy breathing. Sex won’t save us. It can’t. I broke us when I left. And again when he rescued me by running my big mouth. Instead, maybe this can be something new or something to carry with me when we go our separate ways tomorrow.

  The thought tightens my throat.

  Romeo palms my other breast, rolling my nipple almost to the point of pain. Before I left for California, each time we had sex it was dirty for sure, but it was also fun.

  This isn’t fun. But at least it’s better than the cold indifference he’s been giving me all afternoon.

  His cock presses against me. Hot and hard. I open my legs wider, lift my hips. Tingles dance up my spine. I want him so much. I want him to make me feel better. I want him to know how sorry I am, even if I can’t speak the words.

  He thrusts into me with force, and I gasp. The sensations wobble between pain and pleasure, finally landing on so fucking good. A soft moan frees itself from my throat as he keeps fucking me. This doesn’t remotely resemble making love. It’s not even sex. It’s angry fucking. Every jerk of his hips is about what he wants. Not me. He’s not even attempting to make it enjoyable for me, but I don’t care.

  Wet noises fill the tiny room, and I arch my back, trying to gain more friction. His hands clamp over my hips holding me down, not letting me find any relief.

  “Reed. Reed, please?”

  “Don’t,” he growls.

  I realize why he feels so hot and amazing. “Reed, condom?”

  “Fuck.” He stops his furious thrusting but doesn’t open his eyes.

  My fingers trace along his jaw. “It’s okay. I…I saw a doctor. Started the pill—” It’s so embarrassing to have this conversation with him already inside me. When I’m so confused about where we stand.

  His eyes snap open and instead of relief, I see more fury. “That so?”

  “I—”

  “Well, you got no idea where I’ve been.”

  “Don’t. Please.” I know he’s mad, but I don’t for a second think he’d deliberately hurt me.

  I lift my legs, wrapping them around his waist, and he starts rocking into me again.

  I’m so close. “Reed. I’m—”

  Abruptly, he pulls out. Searing heat splashes over my thighs and belly. He groans through his release, leaving me stunned, sticky, and unsatisfied.

  His labored breathing fills the space of the room. “Reed? I didn’t—”

  “Sucks for you.” He staggers out of bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  He returns a few seconds later, fully dressed, and tosses a washcloth at me. “Clean yourself up and get in your own fucking bed.”

  Too stunned to do anything else, I wipe myself off, and scramble out of his bed. Feeling vulnerable, small, and pathetic, I slip his shirt back on and get under my covers.

  “I’m going out. Stay fucking put or I swear to fuck I’ll leave without you, and you can find your own fucking way home.”

  His cold voice and the way he can’t even look at me triggers tears to roll down my cheeks. “Reed—”

  He finally turns his gaze on me. “Don’t fucking call me that again.”

  Then he’s out the door.

  And I cry myself to sleep.

  I’ve done plenty of fucked-up shit in my life. That scene with Athena has to be one of the worst. It’s why I’m so furious I have to get away from her. Even if I don’t go farther than the liquor store next door.

  A few tiny bottles of Jack Daniels ain’t gonna make a dent in my horrible mood. Can’t get too drunk anyway. Need to be
up early and on the road, not nursing a hangover.

  I sprawl out on the plastic chair in front of our room. I need to be away from her, but I can’t leave her unprotected either. I’m an asshole for sure, but not that far gone.

  Why? Why didn’t I kick her out of my bed the second she crawled in it? Why couldn’t I let go of my anger for five seconds and treat her better? I hate acting like a pissy man-child because my girl hurt my feelings.

  My girl.

  Fuck. That.

  The mild buzz I got going isn’t near enough to deal with what’s on the other side of the door. But I get up and drag my sorry ass in anyway.

  She’s curled over on her side. Back to me. My eyes never leave her as I shut the door. The soft click is louder than I intended, but I don’t think she was sleeping. She’s too still. Like she’s holding her breath.

  As I get closer, her shoulder trembles.

  She’s crying. And what’s becoming a familiar feeling of dread fills me. I fucking hate seeing her cry. Worst is knowing I’m responsible for her tears.

  Toeing off my boots, I lift up the covers. “Move over.”

  She slides over without answering. But her breathing hitches and she hiccups out a little sob. Gathering her in my arms, I pull her to my chest. I’d love to feel her bare skin on mine, but I can’t take it again. I kiss her cheek instead, her tears salty on my lips.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper between kisses.

  She shakes and sobs harder. “I’m sorry too. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  “I—”

  “Shh.”

  She reaches down and traces her fingers over my arm. I can’t tolerate her touch. I use one hand to trap her hands between her breasts and keep my other one on her hip.

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t,” she cries miserably. The suffering in her voice rips me apart inside.

  “You still need to come, baby?”

  “Yes,” she says as if it kills her to admit it.

  I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop touching her. I can’t pull my face away from her hair, from her neck. I’m trying to burn her scent into my nose, because this is the last time.