Chapter 13 #3
“You want something, darlin’?” Jason proves he’s got some balls when he strokes his hand through Maisie’s pretty, blonde curls and watches for my reaction while he does it.
“Oh shit,” Wade utters under his breath, and I don’t give Maisie a chance to answer the asshole's question before swinging at him.
I put him straight on his ass, and the fact he don’t get back up makes the pain in my knuckles worth it. My brother just looks at the floor and strokes his forehead.
“Get in the truck.” Maisie looks stunned when I point at the door, and not in an impressed way. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t speak, just flicks her eyes between me and the cock-sure cunt that I just laid out on the floor.
“I said get in the truck. We’re leaving.” A circle of people have gathered around us, and I can feel all their eyes drilling into the back of my head. Maisie stands up, stepping closer to me and the way she licks those lips of hers makes me clench my fists.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice comes out seductive, with the hint of a dare.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I said we're leaving.” When I raise my finger and point it at her, I wonder if anyone else notices that it’s shaking. The girl’s playing a risky game, my anger holds no bars, and tonight ain’t a good time to be testing it.
“Whatcha gonna do, force me outta here?” She tilts her head like a temptress and finalizes my decision.
“If that’s the way you want it.” I move toward her, hauling her up by her thighs, and tossing her over my shoulder like a bag of wheat grain.
Naturally, she protests, slamming her fists into my back and wriggling her body to try and get free of me.
I tense the arm I got wrapped around her thighs, tighter, and withhold the urge I got to slap her ass as I carry her out of the bar and toward my truck.
I don’t know if Wade’s following, I don’t fucking care, and when I place her feet back on the ground, I use my hips to force her against the side of my truck and keep her pinned while I open the passenger door.
Her hands try to push me away, and when that doesn’t work, she beats her palms against my chest and calls out all kinds of curse words.
I rip open the door, and when I grab her face in my hand and force her to focus on me, she suddenly gives up the fight and goes silent.
“Pretty girls shouldn’t fucking curse,” I growl at her. Her chest rises and falls against mine, and my eyes are unable to focus on anything but those lips I’m desperate to kiss.
It would be so fucking easy, and the look in her eyes tells me that she wants me to.
But instead of giving in to temptation, I release her, standing down and giving her enough space to get inside the truck.
She doesn’t try to run, she doesn’t argue, she just grins at me like she’s the winner of the game, I didn’t know I was a competitor in, then hops her ass into the passenger seat.
Turns out Wade didn’t follow after me, so it’s just me and her on the journey home. And we’re only a few miles out of Columbus when she breaks the awkward silence.
“So, you think I’m pretty, huh?” she makes her voice sound so mocking, that I have to grip the wheel. I decide not to give her taunts a reaction, she’s had enough outta me for one night.
Instead, I keep my eyes on the road and turn on the radio so I can blank her out.
But it proves to be fucking impossible. She has her phone out and is smiling as she scrolls.
I can’t help wondering what it is that’s making her look so engrossed.
Is it him? Did she message him to see if he’s ok?
Maybe it’s Wade or one of the friends back home, that she’s so desperate to get back to.
Either way, it ain’t fucking me, and my level of envy at that only confirms that my obsession with her is getting outta control.
It’s after midnight when I pull into the ranch, and when I stop the truck outside the house and cut the engine, neither of us make any attempt to get out. We sit in a dark silence.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” she eventually speaks up.
It sounds a lot like she’s changed her attitude, and when she shifts across the bench seat to be closer, I feel myself start to panic.
I don’t know how much she’s had to drink tonight, but her confidence seems to have grown.
I don’t look at her, just focus my eyes on the speedometer in front of me and count slowly in my head.
“And if it matters to ya, I think you're kinda hot, too.” She leans in even closer, her lips almost touching my ear. “Especially when you get mad,” she whispers, before pressing them against my jaw. It takes all the restraint I have to stop my head from turning and making those lips fucking mine, and I wonder if she feels the tension shaking in me as my knuckles turn white from gripping that fucking wheel, like my life depends on it. If she does, she doesn’t mention it.
She just slides away from me, opens her door and gets out.
I watch her strut in front of the hood, moving toward the front door, then glance over her shoulder at me and smile before she lets herself inside.
Then I look up and curse God for putting something on this earth so perfect and not allowing me to have it.