these pigtailed skanks warming my bed – you pushed me the fuck away and I'm picking up the pieces. Don't you dare blame me for any of this horseshit. We could've had something. I gave you that chance, and you made your choice. You decided we were just a mid-summer casual fuck. Not me.”
Ouch. Another dagger in the chest, and it sank deep.
There were no innocents here. We'd made our mistakes, we were both guilty. I'd lied, and he was dirty. Tainted. Destroyed.
That wasn't on me – was it?
“Yeah, it's all my fault,” I spat. Sarcasm helped keep my tears in check, steadied my voice. “I never cared. You're totally right. I was a cold blooded bitch, just looking for a nice warm dick, right? It was just a summer fling. You telling me to basically shut up and mind my own business while you rode into a situation that could've gotten you killed is my fault. Got it.”
His rich dark eyes turned about ten shades darker. “Come on. Come. The. Fuck. On, woman. You know that's nothing but –“
Bullshit? I thought. No. Not that easy.
“Club business.” I finished for him. “I get it. You chose what really mattered to you, and it wasn't me. You chose this life. Go live with your choice behind that door. She's waiting.”
I tossed my hair, looking past him, into the clubhouse. I pointed at the room he'd walked out of, where the skank was probably in bed, counting down the seconds until he came back and fucked her.
It wasn't just her either. It was the club.
What would things have been like if he weren't sucked into all this? Would I have ever tingled for him at all without those dark inks licking his muscles, without the edge cut into his soul screaming danger ?
He was the ultimate double-edged sword. I'd only realized too late that both ends were bound to cut me to pieces, unless I threw him away forever.
Roman stood there seething for several seconds. I couldn't believe I'd actually rendered him speechless.
Surprisingly, it didn't make me feel good. What little satisfaction I had for a second quickly faded.
There was nothing except emptiness between us, and even the emotional tension evaporated like dew on a hot morning.
“Sally? Roman?” I jumped when I heard Beam's voice. He'd snuck up behind me, then took several steps between us, confusion spreading across his face as he looked at Roman. “What the hell's going on here, brother?”
“Nothing you gotta be worried about,” Roman said sharply, pouring ice on his anger. “Help her with whatever the fuck the Prez said, and get her the fuck out. She doesn't belong here. Next time somebody comes into this clubhouse unannounced, you let me know too. Got it?”
Beam nodded glumly.
Roman turned. I caught one more flash of his chiseled back before he thundered away into his room, slamming the door shut behind him so hard the walls rattled.
“Christ. What did you say to him?” Beam grinned ear-to-ear.
“It's not important. We've got history, but that's all it is.” I said, feeling the heat on my cheeks. “He's right about one thing – it's nothing anybody needs to worry about. I'm here for business with the club. Nothing else.”
Beam's smiled turned into smug determination. He nodded. “Got it. Come on, I'll walk you to your car.”
My quick transit through the clubhouse felt ice cold. Roman should've left me burning hot after screaming in my face, naked as the day our bodies tangled together, leaving me a piece of him forever.
But thinking about Caleb brought winter to my veins. I just wanted to leave this fucked up place forever, forget about the bikes and their bad manners.
Lucky me, that wasn't an option. Thanks to the cartel, I was going to be locked into seeing the Grizzlies patch a lot more, but at least I wouldn't have to come to this clubhouse.
“Will Roman stay back when Blackjack sends his guys to our property?” I asked, as soon as we were back in the garages.
Beam shrugged. “Totally up to the Prez, baby.”
Cold. I listened to
Ouch. Another dagger in the chest, and it sank deep.
There were no innocents here. We'd made our mistakes, we were both guilty. I'd lied, and he was dirty. Tainted. Destroyed.
That wasn't on me – was it?
“Yeah, it's all my fault,” I spat. Sarcasm helped keep my tears in check, steadied my voice. “I never cared. You're totally right. I was a cold blooded bitch, just looking for a nice warm dick, right? It was just a summer fling. You telling me to basically shut up and mind my own business while you rode into a situation that could've gotten you killed is my fault. Got it.”
His rich dark eyes turned about ten shades darker. “Come on. Come. The. Fuck. On, woman. You know that's nothing but –“
Bullshit? I thought. No. Not that easy.
“Club business.” I finished for him. “I get it. You chose what really mattered to you, and it wasn't me. You chose this life. Go live with your choice behind that door. She's waiting.”
I tossed my hair, looking past him, into the clubhouse. I pointed at the room he'd walked out of, where the skank was probably in bed, counting down the seconds until he came back and fucked her.
It wasn't just her either. It was the club.
What would things have been like if he weren't sucked into all this? Would I have ever tingled for him at all without those dark inks licking his muscles, without the edge cut into his soul screaming danger ?
He was the ultimate double-edged sword. I'd only realized too late that both ends were bound to cut me to pieces, unless I threw him away forever.
Roman stood there seething for several seconds. I couldn't believe I'd actually rendered him speechless.
Surprisingly, it didn't make me feel good. What little satisfaction I had for a second quickly faded.
There was nothing except emptiness between us, and even the emotional tension evaporated like dew on a hot morning.
“Sally? Roman?” I jumped when I heard Beam's voice. He'd snuck up behind me, then took several steps between us, confusion spreading across his face as he looked at Roman. “What the hell's going on here, brother?”
“Nothing you gotta be worried about,” Roman said sharply, pouring ice on his anger. “Help her with whatever the fuck the Prez said, and get her the fuck out. She doesn't belong here. Next time somebody comes into this clubhouse unannounced, you let me know too. Got it?”
Beam nodded glumly.
Roman turned. I caught one more flash of his chiseled back before he thundered away into his room, slamming the door shut behind him so hard the walls rattled.
“Christ. What did you say to him?” Beam grinned ear-to-ear.
“It's not important. We've got history, but that's all it is.” I said, feeling the heat on my cheeks. “He's right about one thing – it's nothing anybody needs to worry about. I'm here for business with the club. Nothing else.”
Beam's smiled turned into smug determination. He nodded. “Got it. Come on, I'll walk you to your car.”
My quick transit through the clubhouse felt ice cold. Roman should've left me burning hot after screaming in my face, naked as the day our bodies tangled together, leaving me a piece of him forever.
But thinking about Caleb brought winter to my veins. I just wanted to leave this fucked up place forever, forget about the bikes and their bad manners.
Lucky me, that wasn't an option. Thanks to the cartel, I was going to be locked into seeing the Grizzlies patch a lot more, but at least I wouldn't have to come to this clubhouse.
“Will Roman stay back when Blackjack sends his guys to our property?” I asked, as soon as we were back in the garages.
Beam shrugged. “Totally up to the Prez, baby.”
Cold. I listened to
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