sexy man with whom I had one night of hot, passionate
sex, but that doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do. I might
have liked him bossy in bed, but this right here is a different
story.
He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself. “I’ve been
looking for you for two days. I’m trying not to lose my fuckin’
temper here, Faye, but you’re pushing me. I don’t think I’ve
ever been this patient in my fuckin’ life.”
This is him patient?
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply, lifting my chin up. “And
you can’t make me.”
We stare at each other, the tension building.
I can actually feel the moment before he snaps.
His fists clench, and the tightness in his jaw looks almost
painful.
I step back into the frame of the open bathroom door as he
loses it.
He picks up the TV and throws it into the wall. The crashing
sound makes me jump, but he doesn’t stop there. He
punches the wall several times, then slides the few glasses off
the table in one smooth movement.
More crashing.
There goes my deposit.
He turns and points his finger right at me.
I gulp.
My eyes widen as he grabs my bag and starts packing anything
of mine he comes across. I walk up to him and try to grab
it away from him, but one deathly look has me retracting my
hand.
“Temper tantrum over?” I ask, trying to keep my voice
steady.
He looks down at my bare feet, then at all the glass scattered
on the carpet floor. “Don’t move.”
I do as I’m told as he brings me a pair of my shoes. I slide
them on and look up at him.
Why does he want me to go with him? What good can come
from it? What I need to do is move on with my life and settle
stick bikers and their douche-lord cheating brothers. Somewhere
where my parents aren’t around, and I can be myself.
“I just want to be left alone, Dex,” I say, tears forming in my
eyes. I’m tired, so fucking tired. My life isn’t meant to be like
this, and I hate the fact that he’s seeing me this vulnerable.
I hate it.
I’m not this weak—not usually.
And he’s the last person I’d want to see me like this. He’s
strong. Nothing touches him. I have no idea how he would
handle me if I broke down right now, which I’m seriously close
to doing.
“No, you thought running was going to solve your problems.
You thought lying was going to solve your problems.
You’re lucky my dipshit brother mentioned that you left, and
that you were pregnant, or I wouldn’t even know I was going to
have a fuckin’ kid!” he yells, losing his composure.
Talk about kicking me when I’m down.
“I really don’t need your shit right now,” I mutter, looking
down at the floor, feeling like the worst person in the world.
Because he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have told him. I can’t
say what I would have done.
“You would have gone on, wouldn’t you? Your whole life
without telling me,” he says in disbelief. “Don’t you think I
deserved to have heard this from you?”
I think about lying, but in the end I don’t. I deserve his
judgment over this. “Do you really think you could give this
kid a good life?”
Wrong thing to say, but I needed to say it because that was
my rationalization for leaving without a word. His eyes turn
cold and hard. “I guess you’re going to find out now, aren’t you?”
“How do you know this kid is even yours?” I ask, lifting my
chin up. Why am I poking the dragon? I have no idea.
“I know because the condom broke that night, and you
hadn’t had sex with Eric in a while,” he says, staring straight at
me. “Or anyone else.”
“The condom broke?” I gape, my eyes flaring.
And who is he? The sex police? I hadn’t had sex with anyone
else, but how did he know that?
He watches me under his lashes but ignores my comment.
“Grab your shit, Faye. You have five minutes or we leave
without it,” he says, sitting down on the bed. I grit my teeth
but do as he says, taking my few belongings and packing them
back in my bag with efficient ease.
“I’m ready,” I say, avoiding eye contact. He takes the bag
from me and hikes it on his shoulder, then holds the door open.
I walk out and wait for him to lead me to his car. He walks
down toward the parking lot, and I follow, a few steps behind.
“What about my car? It has some of my stuff in it,” I ask
him.
“Rake will drive it home,” he says as he opens the door to a
black four-wheel drive. He grips my hips and lifts me up onto
the seat. My breath hitches at the contact and flashes of our
night together enter my mind.
Him braced above me as he grinds into me, sweat dripping
down his body.
Me on all fours in front of him, his fingers digging into my hips
as he thrusts.
“Faye,” he says, snapping me out of it.
“Huh?”
“What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his voice a
low rumble.
“Oh, nothing,” I mutter embarrassment coloring my
cheeks.
“I’ll bet. I said Rake will handle your car, so don’t worry
about it.”
“Rake?” I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I watch as
Dex lifts his head toward the side of the building. I follow his
line of sight and see a man leaning against the wall, smoking a
cigarette. He walks over and stands next to Dex.
“So this is what the fuss is all about,” the man named Rake
says, checking me out and not being subtle about it.
“I’m Rake,” he says, grinning at me. He’s a good-looking
panty-dropping smile. He has a lip ring and an eyebrow ring—
both suit him perfectly.
“Faye,” I say, managing a small smile.
“I have to drive your car home,” he says. “You owe me,
Faye.” Another grin, and then he’s off.
Dex sends Rake a look I can’t decipher, then turns to me.
“You okay?” he asks, scanning my face. His expression softens
as he looks over me.
“Yeah. Thanks for asking,” I tell him, clearing my throat.
He grunts in reply, closing the door and heading to the other
side. When he pulls out of the parking lot, he turns to me.
“You know, I thought you were one of the good ones. I
never thought you would do something like this, trying to
keep me in the dark about my own kid.”
With that parting shot, which I feel deep in my bones, he
drives me back home.
Back to the place I’m trying to escape.
Back to where my child will have no future.
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