Trix growled. She was angry? Really? What the fuck could she be pissed about?
“I have class,” she argued, stopping abruptly.
“Never stopped you before.”
“Yeah, when I actually wanted to leave.”
“Get on the fuckin’ bike, Bea.”
“No,” she replied stubbornly.
“Got your friends lookin’ out the window,” I said, glancing over her shoulder. “You want them to see me makin’ you get on, or you wanna climb on without the dramatics?”
She glanced back toward the school, then started toward me with a scowl. “You’re such an asshole.”
I ignored her as I climbed on my bike and handed her helmet over, waiting a few minutes while she got it situated and swung her leg over behind me. We’d done this dance a thousand times, and she wrapped her arms tight around my middle as I fired up the bike and pulled away from the curb.
It had taken years for her dad to let her ride on the back of my bike, but she’d worn him down eventually. Thank fuck. I hated driving the piece of shit truck Casper had given me when I got my license at sixteen, but I’d driven it often back then—for her.
Fifteen minutes later, I rode slowly down a gravel driveway and stopped at a large gate so Trix could unlock the pad lock and let me pull the bike through. As soon as I’d gotten a few feet inside, I was off the bike and turning toward her as she locked the gate behind us.
No one except us ever used the gate at the back of the club’s property. It was secluded and there was nothing much back there but trees and blackberry bushes. The road stopped a hundred yards from the gate, probably because at some point, they’d wanted to carve a path all the way to the clubhouse, but had lost interest.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, stomping toward me.
She was either completely oblivious to how pissed I was or was itching for a fight, because she didn’t stop until she was a foot from me and glaring up into my face.
“You need birth control?” I barked, the words torn from my throat.
I wanted her to tell me no. As she opened and closed her mouth twice, I waited for her to tell me that she had just been curious or some shit.
So, when she spoke, I had a hard time not reaching out and shaking her.
“Don’t really wanna be a teenage mother,” she snapped, throwing up her hands. “Is nothing freaking sacred around here?”
“Are you shitting me?” I growled.
“How did you even know?” she asked, tucking her thumbs into her fists and leaning up on her toes in a pathetic attempt to get in my face. She was almost a foot shorter than I was—she’d need a fucking step stool.
“You gonna have sex? That’s what you’re tellin’ me?” I sneered, leaning down until our faces were inches apart. “Got a little boyfriend?”
“I’ve already had sex with him,” she spat back.
I’d never looked at Trix in a sexual way. Never. She was my little Bea. My other half. When we were kids, she’d been best buds with my little brother, Curtis, and after he died in the fire that killed my family, she’d somehow switched her affections to me. I didn’t know if it was because she missed Curt or she’d just had no one to play with, but she’d followed me around and I hadn’t had the heart to make her leave me alone. She’d been so sweet, with her long dark hair and big brown eyes—I hadn’t stood a chance.
She was mine.
She’d always been mine.
And suddenly, the thought of her being someone else’s made me livid.
She’d fucked someone else?
She’d let someone else see her body?
I couldn’t even feel my hands when I reached out and fisted her hair between the fingers of one and gripped her jaw with the other. It felt like a fucking out-of-body experience as I watched her eyes go wide and her body freeze.
“You’ve been fuckin’ someone else?” I hissed as her hands came up to grip my forearms, her nails biting into my skin. “You belong to me!”
“Fuck you!” she yelled back, pulling at my arms.
It was like waving a flag in front of a bull—and later, I’d wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing—but in that moment, all I saw was red.
I pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her hard as she went completely still. Her fingers went lax on my arms and she stopped pulling away, but she didn’t move her mouth, either. That pissed me off even more.
I spun us around and pushed her up against a tree, the wet bark and moss soaking the back of her shirt and hair within seconds.
“You wanna be fucked, I fuck you,” I ordered into her mouth.
“Yeah, right!” she screeched back, reaching up to grab my head. My hair was too short for her to latch onto, but her fingers wrapped around the back of my head hard, neither pushing me away or pulling me forward.