CRUSH

That was fucked up.Not Gigi. Me. I caused that, and I wanted to kick my own ass when she showed her hesitancy and fear. There was something about her that I had to see. The last time I saw her, she was young, stupid young, wearing a long blue dress. You could barely see Gigi’s collarbone, that’s how covered up she was. I’m well aware it was probably a good thing for her to be covered up considering the cunt bag was in the courtroom. It still pissed me off she was even there. I guess the one good thing that’s coming out of this bullshit is that at least she’s been safe the entire time, and by the way the Ol’ Ladies bragged about how helpful Gigi is around the club, working tirelessly today to help out for my party, I’d say she’s fitting right in.

It wasn’t long after I scared her off that I did what was my plan—taking a hot-as-fuck shower, not getting out until the water ran cold, scrubbing my body three times, washing my hair the same number of times. It didn’t matter, though; I could still smell the prison lingering in my nostrils. The sterility, the shit-ass soap you’re provided, even with care packages and money going on my commissary account. There were always available funds put in from the club. That didn’t mean I was going to go through it like water. I knew my family. More would appear the very next day. But the thought of spending five dollars on a single bar of soap was fuckin’ ridiculous to me, so I saved it for things like food on a rainy day instead.

“Christ,” I mumble to the quiet, empty room. By the time I make it to my room, no one is home besides Gigi, and the only reason I know that is because of the television she turned in her room. Ma, Dad, and Sedona aren’t back yet. Truth be told, my parents may not even make it home tonight if they party too hard. Sedona stayed at the party until it was time for her to head to the hospital. Now it’s too fuckin’ quiet. When you’re used to hearing the clanging of cell doors opening and closing, the intercom speaker going off at all hours of the day and night, the constant chatter from other cells, it makes it damn hard to shut shit down and actually sleep. Maybe I should have hit the hard stuff. It’d probably help me get some shuteye.

The rare times I had the prison cell to myself, well, this is reminding me of those times. The roommates I did have didn’t do nearly as much time as I did, staying for a few months, a year or so. The one thing they had in common was they were all Italian, and I knew that it was another moment when Massimo used his pull he had down here. No way would they let two brothers from the same club be in a cell together. That would be asking for trouble.

I hear the creaking of a door opening down the hall, the light reaching my room. My eyes watch as Gigi tries to be quiet as she walks towards the bathroom. A ridiculous-looking robe is wrapped around her body, colorful in a seventies sort of way, completely fuckin’ out there. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s looking down at her feet.

“Fuck.” I’m rethinking this whole staying at my parents’ house. After tomorrow, I’ll get things set up with my probation officer, make sure she has the right address, then I know where to go next, which is to see Rage, asking if I can have a room inside the clubhouse. I close my eyes, exhaling a breath of air, trying to get some sleep, barely dozing off before the door to the bathroom opens. I try not to smirk, knowing damn well the reason why Gigi took such a quick shower was because of the lack of hot water. Seems Dad still has yet to replace the hot water tank and has no problem letting the kids duke it out like Sedona and I did back in the day, except I know Gigi won’t say shit about it tonight. I lift my lids, seeing her walk back towards her room, smelling the light floral scent with an undertone of amber. Even if my door were shut, which it won’t ever fuckin’ be, not after being trapped for so long, I’d still be able to sense her. This time, though, I can see her fully, the light fabric clinging to her tits, nipples pebbled. The way she’s rubbing her arms up and down, I should feel like a dick, but with the view I’m getting it’s hard to think that way. When I lose sight of her front, her ass is bouncing as she walks, the crazy-as-shit robe plastered to her backside. I’m not even talking about my cock, the way it’s standing up, saluting like it’s ready to fuckin’ pounce. It’s not because of Gigi, no damn way. I’m blaming it on the fact that I’ve gone without tasting, feeling, or fuckin’ pussy. It’s been sixty months, enough to make any man’s cock stand up when a woman with a body like that is in front of him. No way would I admit it could possibly be the woman who is too young for me, the one who shouldn’t have been at a bar in the first place being sixteen goddamn years old. I shut those thoughts down. Instead, I whip the covers off my body and get out of bed. The need to step outside to calm these thoughts is the only thing on my mind. There’s no way I should even be contemplating what she looks like beneath that robe, the feel of her skin against mine. Hopefully, the night air and a cigarette will calm my shit. If not, I’m in for a long fuckin’ night.


Tags: Tory Baker Diamondback MC Second Generation Romance