To her surprise, he moved, and she stumbled forward in the direction of the exit.
Pushing through bikers, she didn’t acknowledge anyone or look at faces. To her, it was just a sea of cuts and tats and loud conversation.
Once outside, she rushed to the right and into the alley between Champs and a deli that was now closed.
For a moment, she wondered if she might be sick, but she kept going, lurching and using the gritty brick wall for support. It was sharp on her palms, but she welcomed the sensation. It took her mind off the pain inside. The end of the alley was close. It was cooler, darker. Tears squeezed from her eyes.
How could Wyatt play with her heart like this? Had he forgotten it was barely held together as it was? Okay, they hadn’t been together for long, but she’d felt something. Something she hadn’t imagined. They got each other. She’d told him stuff, believed what he’d said about trust.
She was such a fool. Always had been, always would be.
“Belle!” His deep voice echoed between the buildings.
“Stay away from me.” She turned the corner and stumbled to the right. Found herself at a dead end. Her way was blocked by high wooden fences. A bench was pushed against one, an overflowing ashtray in the center of it.
“Damn it,” she muttered, swiping at the tears soaking her cheeks.
Wyatt appeared in seconds like she’d known he would. His breaths were coming hard and fast as he paced toward her.
“Stay away.” She backed up until her shoulders hit the brick wall. Her heart was thudding as he loomed bigger, taller. The sky was a wash of orange and red behind him and rendered him almost in silhouette as he approached.
“Don’t you ever fucking walk out of a bar on me again,” he snarled, a tone of voice she hadn’t heard him use before.
“So you get to make rules, huh, but not me.” She pressed her palms on his chest to stop him from physically pinning her to the wall with his body.
“Goddamn it.” He snatched her hands and dragged her arms upward, capturing her wrists in just one of his hands and jamming them to the brickwork.
Her body elongated, and she gasped, her breasts jutting forward, pressing against the low-cut dress. “Wyatt!”
His face was so close to hers, his eyes flashing.
“Let me go.” She squirmed, but it was no good. He held her captive.
“I couldn’t call you,” he said, his jaw tight as he’d spoken. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you. Think about you every damn minute.” He paused, and his nostrils flared. “Hell, I had to jerk off every morning in the shower just to get through the day without a hard-on.”
She glared at him, trying to find the truth in his words.
“Thinking of you,” he went on, “remembering being inside you, touching your fucking hot body and sexy tits.” He set his hand over her right breast and squeezed. “Made me like a dog on heat.”
She gasped. A tremble went through her, starting in her chest and radiating down to her pussy. She pressed her legs together.
“I just wanted to be with you,” he said huskily. “Counted the fucking days until I would see you at the rally.”
“I don’t believe you.” She tilted her chin. Her breaths were coming in fast pants.
He paused then. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve had pricks say they care when they don’t. Old news.”
“I fucking care. All right? I fucking care and I fucking want you.”
His mouth hit down on hers. It was a wild, desperate kiss that stole her breath and had her pussy clenching.
He slid his hand into her neckline and gripped her breast. His fingers were cool on her hot flesh.
She groaned. So did he.
I don’t want him. I shouldn’t want him.