I turn around to watch him pull a sleeping Becky in his arms, and then he gets out and starts to walk down the long driveway with her in his arms.
Cole places his hand on my seat and looks back over his shoulder, ignoring the backup camera as he backs out. And then takes off down the street.
I bury my face in my hands and cover up a yawn. I’m tired. I’m drunk, and I’m so pissed at myself because a part of me feels like I shouldn’t be mad at Cole. That was the second time he’s taken up for me and beat someone’s ass when they disrespected me. But another part of me wants to say It’s your fucking fault. You put me in those positions.
But that wouldn’t do us any good.
I lean my head back against the head rest and close my eyes. I feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to open them. He hasn’t spoken to me, and I have so much to say to him that if I even open my mouth to try, I’ll probably regret it. But then again. I’ve never been one to bite my tongue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
COLE
We enter the clubhouse, and I walk past her over to the stairs. I take them two at a time and turn on the light once I hit the landing. A big wooden log bed sits in the middle of the area. And that’s it. No TV, no dressers, no nightstands. There’s a door to my right leading to the full bath.
She comes to the top of the stairs and looks around as I drop her bag. She hasn’t spoken since we stood in the middle of the road, but I know she wants to.
And now that my anger has died down, I hate that I told her to go fuck Bryan. The words tasted like shit. The thought of him sleeping with her makes my stomach knot.
“Cole—”
“Stop,” I interrupt her.
Her eyes narrow on me. I step to her. “Just stop talking,” I say, placing my hand in her hair. Her heavy eyes close, and she lets out a sigh. She’s drunk. And probably still pissed at me. Possibly tired. But I don’t fucking care.
I want her!
I lean down and press my lips to hers. She opens without thought, tilting her head back. I push my hips into hers, and she moans in my mouth. I’m so hard for her all the fucking time. I’s pathetic.
I reach for her sweater and pull it up over her head. “Can we take a shower?” she asks.
I’m about to say fuck a shower, but her eyes go to the blood on my hands, and I realize I just got it in her hair. “Sure.” I don’t want any part of Bryan on her. Even though I would love to paint her body red.
We walk into the bathroom, and she looks around as I start the shower. I remove my shirt and then kick off my tennis shoes. I’m removing my jeans and boxers when she comes up to me. I pause as she places her hands on my bare chest.
My heart starts to pound at the softness in her touch. No one has ever touched me like she does. Like it means something. As if she could save me from myself. I’ve always been the guy who got in and got out. The girls I brought home, didn’t stay the night, and the older women I fucked, I left their house as soon as I was done. But I can’t seem to leave her. I reach up and push her hair behind her ear, exposing all the piercings. I run my thumb over them.
She releases a long breath. “I don’t wanna fight.”
Her words surprise me. “I don’t either,” I say, and I’m just as surprised with myself that they are the truth. I love a fight. Doesn’t matter if they are physical or mental. I love fucking with someone.
“Can we just forget about what happened?” she asks, biting on her bottom lip nervously.
I can’t just forget that Bryan dared his friend to fuck her. What if someone else does that? What if someone else tries to take what belongs to me? Or worse? Forces her? I know I’m a sick bastard. I know that I prefer a fight over a civil conversation, but there are others in this city just like me. Some older and some younger. “Yeah,” I tell her because I don’t want to worry her. I’ll continue to protect her no matter what the cost. Because I’m the only one who can destroy Austin Lowes.
Right.
She pulls away from me and goes to finish getting undressed. I turn and get into the shower, and she follows me. I stand under the sprayer, and she watches the blood run into the drain.