Текст книги "Burning Ember"
Автор книги: Darby Briar
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
“You know, Edge won’t care who he fucks when he gets out. Star or Jade. Either clubpiece is just as good as the next. It would be a shame to turn that beautiful girl into something ugly when she’s so obviously somethin’ special.”
She pats my face roughly, right over the bruise her son gave me. “She’s old lady material, Mav. Anyone who can’t see that is a fool.” Then she hammers the last nail in the coffin. “Dozer’s smart, but I thought you were smarter.”
She looks over at her son pensively. “He made a good decision speakin’ up for her though, so maybe he’ll make another good decision and claim her before the party.”
Over. My. Dead. Fucking. Body.
I grind my teeth and my skin tightens all over. I grunt and cross my arms. Not only has she insulted my intelligence, but she’s also prodding at the jealous feelings that stir inside me every time I see Doll with Dozer. She’s right, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell her so.
“God knows I’m not always gonna be around to take care of you boys, especially if somethin’ happens to Cap. It would do my heart good, havin’ an old lady like her around.”

Fighting solves nothing . . . That’s bullshit. Fighting solves a whole hell of a lot.
MAVERICK
I push through the swinging door of the kitchen expecting to find Doll alone, but what I find instead is a leather cut, and the back of Dozer’s head.
“Septic’s gonna kill me. I was supposed to be at the hospital twenty minutes ago,” Dozer says hoarsely. “But I was hopin’ to get a minute alone with you. Maybe get a kiss to tide me over for the night.”
He’s standing against the counter, and on either side of his hips are feminine legs. Legs that he’s currently running his hands over. Legs that look a hell of a lot like the ones I was eye-fucking not ten minutes ago.
My pulse goes from a steady beat to a fast thump, thump, thump in an instant.
Dozer’s head bends forward. The airs discharges from my lungs. The need to haul him off her and rearrange the bone structure of his face grabs hold of me.
I’m about to do so when I hear Doll speak.
“Did you talk to Mav?”
Dozer groans and lifts his head. “No. Not yet. Haven’t gotten a chance to.”
Every cell in my body revolts. “Talk to me about what?”
Dozer spins around. His hands go up defensively. “Mav, it’s not—”
“Save it. Been standin’ here long enough to know what it is.” He was going to kiss her. Questions run rampant through my mind . . . Was she going to let him? Has he kissed her before? Have they done more than that? Fuck. All the times I walked past his door and heard them on the other side . . .
What in the ever-loving fuck have they been doing?
Doll slowly slips off the counter. I try to find the answers in her expression but she won’t look at me. In fact, her eyes stay focused on the floor. Her cheeks though are beet red.
“I agreed she’d be for Edge,” Dozer starts, “but—”
Oh no. NO! Fuck no. He’s not doing this. “No but’s. That’s the fuckin’ deal you made, brother.”
I say it because I can’t fuckin’ tell him the truth. That I want the same goddamn thing he wants. Doll to myself, and to put an end to her being a present for Edge.
The last thing I need is Dozer and me going head to head right now. Not when we’re going for a stroll in Greenback territory without them knowing. And I sure as hell am not going to play tug a war with Doll when she’s right here and already skittish.
I’m also a little terrified that if it came down to it and we made her choose right now, she wouldn’t fucking choose me. Why would she? From day one I’ve been making her life miserable. And Dozer’s been protecting her.
What I need is time. Time to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do, and time to prove to Doll that I’m not the asshole I’ve been.
To Doll, I bark, “Pack your shit. You’re not stayin’ here anymore.” I don’t want her here while I’m gone. Obviously, I can’t trust my brothers to keep their fuckin’ hands to themselves.
Her head snaps up and worry fills her eyes.
Yes, there’s probably a better way to approach this, because I’m not winning any points still acting like a dick, but I can’t help it. I’m pissed. I’m jealous as fuck, and I’ve never been on the losing end of this game before.
Charging toward me, Dozer gets right up into my face. Nose to fuckin’ nose with me. “You want to dole out punishment . . . I’m right the fuck here. You’re not sendin’ her packin’ because of somethin’ I tried to do. Fuck, she didn’t even want me to.”
The admission is music to my fucking ears. But I push it to the back of my mind to think on later. I stare him dead in the eyes. “I let you beat on me last night because I had it comin’. But if you don’t step off me right the fuck now, we will throw down. And I won’t be the only one bleedin’ this time. That what you want?” His nostril’s flare and the muscles in his neck flex. I see in his eyes that he wants to hit me. Instead, he draws in a big breath and steps back.
“I stepped up because you wouldn’t. Now I’m runnin’ this fuckin’ club and since I can’t trust you all to keep your hands off her, I’m makin’ some changes. Her being here for you to take advantage of is one of them. Plus, we gotta hit the fuckin’ road. As it is, we’re gonna be drivin’ all night. And she’s not stayin’ here while we’re gone.”
His brows are pinched together. “Hit the road . . . and go where?”
“Whiz has a lead on our witness. We leave in an hour. She’ll stay with one of the old ladies until we get back.”
Before I leave, I tell Doll, “Get your stuff, and come find me.”
Dozer hollers after me, “Mav, where the fuck you takin’ her?”
I stop midway through the swinging doors, and ask over my shoulder, “What? Don’t you trust me, brother? I give you my word she’ll be in good hands. That should be good enough for you. Right? My word.”
In the main room, I slap Taz on the back. “Headed out to the garage. Need to blow off some steam. You in?”
He rolls his shoulders and stands. A crazy fucking grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

EMBER
Mav told me to pack a bag, but I don’t need to. It’s already packed, ready, and waiting. So, here I sit on Dozer’s beige bed, staring at his blank walls, in his overly plain and impersonal room, letting time tick by as I chew on my thumbnail and worry if the near kiss I had with Dozer will turn Mav against me yet again.
It seemed to. Dozer’s declaration didn’t help matters either. Not only did it make my lunch curdle in my stomach, but also it brought out the same sharp-tongued devil I met the day I came here.
Luce.
I don’t know how I could have prevented it from happening though. I’d been standing in the kitchen scrubbing a plate, when Dozer’s large body pinned me to the counter. At first, I thought it was Mav. I secretly hoped it was Mav. Then Dozer’s woodsy scent swirled around me, and his massive hands gripped my hips. I tried to play it off, made up some pitiful excuse about needing to finish the dishes. Dozer simply took the plate from my hands, dropped it back into the sink, and turned me to face him. In one quick move, he planted me on the counter, spread my legs, and stood between them.
He asked for a kiss before he left for the hospital. But I still had the taste of Mav on my lips. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I stalled.
What are the odds Mav would choose that moment to walk in on us?
Now, I can only imagine what he thinks of me.

Griz is sitting on the far side of the main room with Grinder and a pretty blonde hang around. I approach their table and ask, “Have you seen Mav?”
“In the garage sweetheart.” His eyes swing to the bag I’m carrying. “You goin’ somewhere?”
“I guess I’m staying with one of the old ladies while Mav’s gone.”
He smiles, slaps his leg, and slowly stands. “Good.” He palms his ginger beard and smoothes it down. “That the reason Dozer tore outta here?”
“Yeah. That and he wanted to spend some time at the hospital before him and Mav head out,” I say, not wanting to go into further detail.
He pumps his chin toward the front door. “C’mon, I’ll show ya where to go.” Griz walks me to the sheet metal garage on the other side of the courtyard. After opening the door, he gestures me inside. “In the back,” he says, leaving me to find Mav on my own.
The garage is massive and dimly lit. What sunlight there is comes from windows set about fifteen feet off the ground. The air’s cooler in here than outside, but also muggy and reeks of oil and gas. So strongly that it burns my nose and reminds me of things I’d rather not remember. Like Warner. Eight-foot high flames. And the deafening cry of a fire truck siren.
I force those thoughts to the back of my mind as I cautiously make my way through the clutter of cars, motorcycles, tools, and toolboxes.
It’s not until I come around a far wall that I spy them.
Mav is in a boxing ring facing me, and Taz with his back to me. They’re both shirtless and circling each other. They’re wearing boxing gloves and holding their hands up to block their faces. Taz is bouncing around, whereas Mav is more centered, focused, and firm footed.
I stay partially hidden in the dark. I don’t want to interrupt the match and put an end to this delectable show. Not when I can watch Mav from afar without him knowing.
Because he’s quite the sight.
Perspiration drips like honey from his temple to jaw line, and neck to chest. The light from the bulb hanging above him reflects off the moisture coating the dips and valleys of his pecs and ropy abs. Sex appeal radiates off him in waves, and I’m suddenly incapable of looking at anything else. He’s not thick and throwing muscles everywhere like Taz, but taut in all the right places. Lean hips, nice arms, a small six-pack, and dear God he wears those jeans as if they were made just for him.
The color of his skin is like the color of the Pacific Coast sand when wet. The kind you want to touch and feel under your hands all day.
My eyes roam over the rest of him. The chain around his neck. The words inked across his chest and the small angel on his arm. The one I’ve seen hints of under his sleeve, but have never seen before. It’s beautiful in a broken and mysterious way, and it calls to the part of me that is insanely curious about him.
In a quick move, Mav throws a jab. But Taz dodges it by rapidly swinging his head to the side a split second before it connects. They trade places and Mav puts his back to me.
When he does, my eyes roam over the biggest tattoo I’ve ever seen. The HOC colors as the boys call them. The HOC insignia spans from the top of his spine to his lower back. It’s massive. The middle arrow of the chaos symbol follows the line of his vertebrae. It sinks under the hem of his jeans, and as he moves, the muscles in his back bulge and pop, making the image dance. It’s so damn sexy I have to clench my thighs together to fight the ache building between them.
I’d like to trace the design. Every line, every nuance. The wings. The arrows. The banner with the words that every HOC besides Mav lives by, Revel in chaos, regret nothing.
Mav’s the exception.
Because Mav is full of regrets.
Taz’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Gettin’ slow, brother.” He bounces on his feet and moves to the side. He moves fast, throws a punch, and lands a solid blow to Mav’s ribs.
An oomph sound escapes Mav and a grimace spreads across his face.
Taz chuckles. “Shit man, you’re gettin’ soft. Or should I say hard. The stray still got your head spinnin’ but not the head above your should—”
Mav throws a jab and slams his fist into Taz’s cheek, cutting off whatever he was going to say.
“Fuck!” Taz laughs, cups his jaw, and rubs it with his glove. His laugh comes out manic and unstable. “Damn, that one’s gonna leave a mark. Hey, maybe I can get her to kiss it better.”
Grumbling under his breath, Mav walks to the ropes. He says just loud enough for me to hear, “Try it, and Doc will be wirin’ your jaw shut.”
Taz finds his response hilarious.
I readjust the heavy bag on my shoulder and as I do, it knocks a wrench on a shelf and sends it clanging to the floor. I cringe as the noise echoes and both men turn toward me.
There’s no point in hiding anymore, so with my head down I trudge forward until I’m a few feet from the ring.
Taz leans with crossed arms on the top rope and peers down at me. “You wanna go a couple of rounds with me, little stray?” The side of his mouth lifts. “If it’s your first time, I’ll take it nice and easy on ya. Go as slow as you like. Don’t worry, it only stings for a sec.” His cunning smile tells me he’s not talking about boxing.
Rolling my eyes, I say to Mav, “I’m ready when you are.”
His eyes pierce me where I stand as they take me in. He blinks, but doesn’t say a thing. In fact, I’m beginning to doubt he heard me at all. His head is tilted down and he’s looking at me through those thick, black lashes, which make his eyes appear darker than normal. Bringing one glove up to his mouth, he bites the strings to loosen them while keeping his eyes on me.
“How about you throw a few with Mav? Or is it Luce? I’m so confused.” Taz grins and glances at Mav, then back to me.
I shake my head. “No. Pretty sure he’d hurt me.” Mav’s eyes narrow further at that comment. Maybe because just a few hours ago he promised not to hurt you anymore.
“I’ll hold him while you get a couple good licks in,” Taz offers.
I can’t deny that hitting Mav, getting a little revenge, sounds satisfying. I smile a little to myself at the thought. I look up to see Mav scrutinizing my face. He lifts his hand and scrapes his thumbnail over his bottom lip. Meanwhile, his eyes run down my body and back up.
My core tightens and my nipples turn rock hard.
A wicked smile slides across his mouth and my heart quickens. “You want a piece of me, Doll?” His accent stretches his vowels and the gruffness of his voice sends a pleasant flutter through my lower abdomen.
Damn him. Even though my brain is screaming YES, I say, “Nope.”
Maybe it’d be better if I wait for him outside. The fresh air might help me keep dirty thoughts from running rampant through my mind.
“C’mon. Here’s your chance at a free shot. Time to let out some of that fire you keep under wraps,” says the devil’s pit bull.
“Fire?” The word has chills rising on my neck.
“That Irish temper, Doll,” Mav replies.
“Time to be real, little stray,” Taz adds.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask incredulously. “That I’m usually fake?”
They share a look, some kind of silent communication. When they look back at me, Taz smirks. “Why do you think he calls you, Doll?”
What?
A hot and heavy rock hits the bottom of my stomach. My gaze swings to Mav. “That’s why you call me Doll?” I knew it wasn’t a compliment. But I thought maybe, it was about my height.
Mav glares at Taz for a moment then his gaze swings to me. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re not denying it, are you?” Grinding my teeth, I wait for his reply. His silence drives me to act. “One punch,” I say, dropping my bag to the floor. “If I hit you, you’re not going to do anything?”
The side of his mouth twitches as if to smile. “I won’t move a muscle.”
Taz helps me put on the gloves. I’m fired up and ready to lay into Mav until I turn around to face him. When I meet his eyes, I freeze as doubt circles through me.
What if this is a trick?
He steps closer. “Eye for an eye. Blood for blood. How shit works here. I owe you this, Doll. I spilt yours. Do your best to spill mine.”
Then I realize I’m forgetting one vital thing. I have no idea how to throw a punch. I mean, I get the mechanics, but I heard of people breaking their hands throwing a punch and the last thing I need is a broken hand.
Mav raises an eyebrow. “Change your mind?”
“I’ve never thrown a punch before.”
He peers over my shoulder, makes some noise in the back of his throat, then mutters, “I’ll show her.”
Taz snorts and chuckles.
Mav steps into my personal space. First, he straights my wrist. “Keep this straight and strong.” I do what he says. “Good. But it takes more than your fist and your arm to throw a punch.” Taking my fist, he guides it in slow motion to his damaged yet beautiful face. “See, that’s weak. But use your whole body . . .” He puts a hand on my stomach. “Tighten these muscles here.”
He doesn’t have to tell me. My muscles automatically contract as I fight not to show how much his touch affects me. His hand even over my shirt sends sparks of electricity firing through my nerve endings.
“Good.” Grabbing my hips, he twists my body forward. “Now put those together.” We do it together in slow motion. Three, four, and then five times, me pushing my fist out and him twisting my hips.
“Perfect, Doll.”
Perfect Doll.
Irritation pings through me at the nickname and its meaning. However, it’s quickly drowned out by the flames fanning out from his hands on me; the intoxicating scent of him that’s overwhelming my senses. This time, his scent isn’t cloaked by tobacco. It’s all him. His scent. His sweat. All Mav.
My gaze is drawn to the vein in his neck. It’s pulsing wildly, making me wonder if his heart is beating as erratically as mine is. My gaze ventures down again, this time to the tattoo sitting at eye level in front of me. It’s in the center of his delicious pec covered by golden skin. I read and reread the bible verse inked in small, cursive letters. I try and fail to understand the meaning of it. But it’s about darkness, light, and death. All the things I see when I look at him.
His hand cups the back of my neck. He squeezes once and puts his thumb under my chin so he can lift my face to meet his. His tongue comes out and sweeps against the cut on his lip, and my eyes follow. I’m drawn back to the kiss we shared and I remember in vivid detail the way his mouth felt against mine, demanding and hungry, soft and yet savage. Like he’s been famished for half a decade and I’m the only sustenance he needs to survive.
His breath washes over my cheek, sending a tremor of need down my body. “If you’re gonna hit me, Doll. You better do it now.” The huskiness of his voice has my eyes flying up to his.
“Why?”
“Because you’re lookin’ at me like I got somethin’ you need. I can’t fuckin’ stand here and not give it to you. Not when I want nothin’ more than another taste of your sweet mouth.”
His eyes dart behind me and back to my face. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck’all who sees me takin’ it, but you probably do. So hit me. Or I’ll be tastin’ you again, Doll. And I’m not likely to stop anytime soon.”
Birds take flight, going all different directions inside my belly. I stare up at him. Was that a threat or a promise?
His dark and intense gaze tells me it’s both. He backs up a step. “C’mon . . . Make this right between us. Hit me. Give it all you got.”
I mentally shake myself from the lust-filled daze he has me under. Yes, I want him, but I also want to give him back a small slice of the pain he’s thrown at me.
“Okay.” I firmly plant my feet on the mat. I practice my punch one more time slowly. After taking a deep breath, I prepare to launch my fist at his face. But I’m hesitant. He’s already bruised and beyond handsome, and hitting him feels wrong.
“Think of it as payback for me being a dick,” he says.
Nodding, I dig through my arsenal of bitter memories of what he’s put me through since arriving here. The insults. The death stares. The disgusting jobs I’ve had to do around the club. Him siccing Taz on me.
My anger builds.
Attacking me last night was the last straw and either I do this or I need to leave. Staying will only tell him and every other biker here, I’ll put up with the mistreatment I’ve been given. And I won’t. Not again. Not anymore.
I pull in a deep breath and launch my fist toward his face. The damn glove barely grazes his jaw.
I internally growl with frustration. Dammit! I get my one chance for some payback and I screw it up. Ugh . . . Em.
“It’s all right. Try again,” he encourages.
I bite my lip.
“C’mon. Again.” His tone changes. Hardens.
Waving me forward, he grates out, “Get angry. Curse. Shout. Whatever. Just show me the part of you that’s not a fuckin’ mouse all the time.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he throws back.
Taz squeaks like a mouse behind me. I spin for a second and shoot him a dirty look, before rotating back to Mav.
Mav’s darkness is back. It’s hovering around him. He’s angry and I’m confused. Am I not the one being taunted and offended? Shouldn’t I be the one that’s pissed off?
“You do what we say when we say it. You’ve let me and some of the other brothers treat you like shit. You clean up after messy fuckin’ bikers and the whores that visit the club. You like that job?”
His words sting. Of course, I don’t like that job.
With all the sarcasm I can manage, I say, “Yeah, Mav. This is exactly what I dreamed of. I worked my ass off to get out of the hellhole I grew up in, because I wanted to come here and scrub cum off the floors. Clean up after bikers who are too drunk half the time to piss in the toilet.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Such a simple question. With no simple answer.
I shake my head.
“Why, Doll?” He sneers the name like he did that first day. It grates on my every nerve.
“Because I don’t have the luxury of picking and choosing what I do with my life right now. Unlike you, I’m trying to make the best of my situation. You’re not the only one trying to recover from a bad relationship. And at least I’m not sitting around sulking about it.”
Holy Hell. Did I just say that to him?
“Make the best of it? You mean, accept the shitty options you’ve been given.”
“What are you saying?”
“In a few days, you know what you’re gonna be? Our little slut. Is that what you want? To be a clubpiece? To be used and fucked and degraded and—”
“No!”
“But you’re going to, right? ‘Cause you need the money.”
I shake my head, trying to deny what we both know is true. “I told you I’d leave. You’re the one making me stay!”
“And go where? Go whore for someone else?” he growls. “Not fuckin’ happening.”
White-hot rage crawls up my neck like a live wire being hit with a jolt of electricity. I snarl. Yes, snarl. The sound comes from some place deep inside me. My fist feels like a slingshot as I hurl it through the air toward his face. I swear my bones crunch together as they connect with his solid jaw. Upon impact, his chin snaps to the side. But I keep going as I pound on his chest with both fists. “How dare you fucking judge me!”
He staggers back two steps.
“Like your life’s so perfect. You’re an asshole to everyone around you because you can’t cope with a break up. It’s been five . . . FIVE damn years, Mav. Get the fuck over her already.”
He tosses my hands off him like I’m nothing but a mosquito. “What are you doin’ here?” he snarls back.
“God, you’re a jerk. I can’t believe . . .” I kissed you.
Moving forward, crowding into my personal space, he rasps, “What the fuck is a girl like you doing in a place like this, huh?” His chest bumps mine. “Why are you here, Doll?”
I bite my lip and shake my head.
“Why?” he shouts in my face and his voice echoes off the walls.
Throwing my arms wide, I yell, “Because it’s my only option. Out there, I have nothing, no one, and nowhere to go. Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I’m a stray. I’m homeless. Penniless. No, I don’t want to sleep with a clubhouse full of bikers or a bunch of scummy men I don’t know. But I’ll do what I need to do to survive! I have no other option.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
I wince and look away so I don’t have to feel his piercing eyes. “I just can’t.”
“Why?” When I move to leave, he grabs my arms and shakes me. “Why the fuck can’t you go home?”
I fight his hold but he keeps asking the same question over and over. Why? Why? Why? He won’t let me go and the more I fight him, the stronger his hold on me becomes. I’m so enraged that the words rush unguarded past my lips. “He’ll find me!”
“Who?” He leans down and peers into my face. “Who’ll find you?”
Horrified at the knowledge that I’ve said so much, I look anywhere but at him. But Mav grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes.
“Don’t clam up now, Doll. Come on. Tell me. Who’ll find you? Who are you runnin’ from?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I do, the last month with Warner flashes like a horror movie through my mind. Helplessness and fear ripple down my spine. A whimper escapes me and bile rises in my throat.
“Doll, tell me.” When I’m still silent he asks, “Your ex?”
I’m no longer in control of my body, because I nod without wanting to do so.
His tone drops low. “What’d he do to you?”
The iron box in my mind springs open and there’s no shutting it now. Mav wants to know everything. Fine. I tell him. I laugh bitterly, open my eyes, and meet his gaze. “You should ask what didn’t he do. What didn’t he take from me. Because the answer is my life, Mav. That’s the one thing I had left to lose and I wasn’t ready to part with it just yet.”
Mav’s face hardens. He gets my meaning because the muscle in his jaw begins to tick and his eyes swirl with emotion. Sadness. Regret. Fury. Pity.
I don’t want his fucking pity. Seeing his face riddled with it makes bubbling lava burn in my veins.
I force his hand away from my chin, and push him back. “What? Is the truth too ugly for you? Or are you just sorry that your friend won’t have the pleasure of taking my virginity?”
“Doll—”
“You want to know the rest, huh? Well the truth is my life’s never been pretty, Mav. It’s been a fucking maze. Full of trials and dead ends. I never had normal. Not even as a child. There were always drugs and creepy men. And too many days where we ate expired food out of a can because that’s all we had. My mom cut out when I was sixteen. Sixteen. I had to drop out of school to help make ends meet. Do you know how hard it is to find a job that pays more than minimum wage when you’re a drop out? It’s impossible. So yes when a rich guy bought me things and paid attention to me, I fell for him hard and fast. Until he showed his true colors and took away everything important to me. Threatened everything I cared about and wouldn’t even so much as let me out of the house unless I was by his side.”
I blow out a huff of air. “Do you get it now? I’ve learned to fight my battles where I can and work with the shit choices I’ve been given. I’m just trying to stay alive, and how I do that no longer matters to me.”
Moisture stings behind my eyes. Before the tears can fall in front of Mav, I spin to Taz. Thrusting my hands toward him, I plead, “Please, take them off.”
Against my will, one tear and then another trail down my face.
Taz works fast, and the second my hands are free, I’m ducking under the ropes, fleeing as fast as I can across the garage.
Mav calls out to me.
I’m almost to the door when steel arms band around me and pull me to a stop. One around my midsection. Another over my chest, and Mav’s rich scent engulfs me. Hugging me tightly to his chest, he whispers, “Fuck. I’m sorry. Jesus . . . I needed to know . . . I had to make sure you wanted more than this.”
My chest is heaving and tears keep falling. It finally dawns on me why he’s being a dick for no reason. He wanted to know why I’m here. He wanted me to admit that I don’t want to be a clubpiece. That all of this is a last resort for me.
“Why? Why do you care now? This whole time you’ve tried to run me off. You’ve treated me like shit. Like I mean nothing to you.”
“You’re somethin’ to me. You’ve been somethin’ to me since the first second I saw you. I’ve just been trying like hell to fight it.”
“Why?”
“Because the last woman I fell for ripped my world down around me. Put me through hell.”
“I’m not her.”
“I know, Doll. Fuck. I know that now.” His voice lowers and he speaks right next to my ear. “You’re better than this place. And fuck, I know you’re too good for me, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”
My chest expands, fills with warmth.
“I know I’ve pushed you away to the point you want to go, and I know I don’t deserve one, but I can fix this. I want a chance to fix this.”
With every bone in my body, I ache to give in to him. But I’m so angry and so wary of his moods. How can I believe him when he’s turned on me at every opportunity?
I can’t.
The silence stretches between us until I ask, “Are you going to stop me if I want to leave?”
He sighs and drops his head into the curve of my neck. His arms tighten around me. “It’s your life. You’re free to do whatever you want. I won’t stop you if that’s what you feel you need to do. But I really fuckin’ hope you stay. I’m better than this. I swear to fuckin’ Christ I am. Let me prove it.”
A snake coils around my heart. The same snake that’s been there since the moment I met Mav. I raise my hand and cover his arm around my stomach for a few seconds. I soak up the feel of him. There is something here. Being in his arms feels like it’s where I’m supposed to be. I can’t explain why. Without permission, he’s seared himself onto my heart. Lit a fire so deep inside me, I don’t know if it’ll ever burn out. And I know no matter where I go from here, every moment we have shared will stay with me.
The good and the bad.
I step out of his arms, and he reluctantly lets me go. I don’t give him an answer and he doesn’t demand one. Maybe because he knows what the answer will be if I have to make it right now.








