Seventeen #2
He watches me fuss, eyes critical, arms folded.
“People will only put up with your shit for so long, Jenna.” The asshole takes a step forward, then another, stopping when my back hits the door again.
“They’ll tiptoe around you for the next week or two while this whole thing is fresh, but give it time, and there’ll be more girls.
More trauma that’s newer than yours. And you’ll find patience isn’t something you’re met with as often.
You need to figure out what it is you want from us while you’re here. What you’re gonna give back too.”
“You’re a great life coach,” I snap. “You know that?”
“Telling it how it is over giving you false hope, darlin’.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” He tilts his head, showcasing the sharp line of his jaw.
He’s still close enough that I inhale his intoxicating musk—all warm skin and spice. My body fucking reacts of its own volition. Traitor. “Because I’m not one of your baby mamas, Nibbles.”
He jerks his head back with an amused smirk. “One of?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t give me bullshit about how you’re a stand-up, loyal kind of guy.” I meet his predatory gaze, unblinking. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
He huffs a small laugh out his nose. “Everybody around here knows what to expect from me, Freckles. And everyone around here knows I have a daughter to the one baby mama I messed up with.” Realization flashes in his eyes.
“Is that what this is about? You saw my daughter downstairs, so this is, what, some jealous tantrum now that you know I’ve already been caught, tagged, and released? ”
A snort rips free. “Are you fucking delusional?” His daughter is downstairs?
“Am I right?”
I sidestep before I fulfill the urge to rub the sweater all over him to refresh the smell. “So far off it isn’t even funny. Not everything is about you, you know?”
“Shame.” He shrugs. “Would have been fun seeing how wild with jealousy you got if I was right.”
I spin, arm arcing before I think through the consequences, and slap the fucker. Hard.
He’s one of a kind, that much is true.
He raises a palm to the pinked flesh of his cheek. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t condone violence against women.”
“You’re fucking lucky I don’t call what you just did predatory behavior,” I spit back, moving away from the giant red flag.
“You fucking let me out of a locked room yesterday after I was trafficked, and all you can think to do to pass the time is fuck with my emotions. Fuck with me.” I drop a bitter laugh.
“You’re a real piece of work, Fang. No wonder she released you. ”
All traces of humor slide off his face, nose twitching slightly. “Nobody’s keeping you here, Jenna. You can leave any time you want.”
“Can I?” I narrow my gaze on the fucker. “You sure about that? You’re standing in the way of the door.” I lift an eyebrow.
Fang glances around, seemingly unaware we’d switched places during our altercation. He steps sideways, and then gestures for me to leave.
Asshole. I’d walk my ass out of the room to prove a point, but where would I go? I’m not finished here yet.
And he goddamn knows it.
“What have I done to deserve this, Fang? Why target me?”
He shakes his head, cruel smile curling his lips. “You really don’t know?”
“Would I be asking if I did?”
He stalls a moment, gaze searching mine.
“You’re fucking entitled, Jenna. We bring you back here and save you from a fucking future of possible rape, mutilation, enslavement, or maybe even being killed, and you act as though it was your goddamn right to have us risk ourselves to help. Not once have you said thanks.”
Is he fucking serious? “My apology. I didn’t realize you showed up last night purely for accolades.”
“Fucking quit it,” he gripes with a roll of his dark eyes. “Quit with the fucking attitude.”
“Would you rather I was an inconsolable mess like Kathy? High anxiety like Mila. Or perhaps you want me more submissive? What suits your stereotype of a broken woman better?”
Fang takes a long stride forwards, eviscerating the space between us. “I want you to drop the fucking act and be real with us. You at least owe us that much.”
Chest heaving with the desperate need to maintain my cool, I swallow, slowly, painfully aware of how quickly the situation turned around. “What if this is how I am?”
Fang’s gaze drops to my mouth for the briefest moment. “Then it makes me wonder how a ballbuster like you ended up there in the first place.”
“Apparently I’m real good at making bad decisions.” Like choosing to stay within this man’s orbit.
A muscle twitches beside his nose. Fang’s hooded gaze drops to my mouth again.
Leave. Internal monologue screaming, my limbs can’t find it in them to give a fuck.
I’ve been used, threatened, and bullied. Just this once, I want somebody else to take the initiative to do better. To choose better.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I whisper the question between us, white-hot disgust pulsing through me from the understanding that I really do find this guy attractive.
Asshole behavior and all.
“Yeah.” He regards me with the same conflicted need. “I do.” The same repulsed desire.
So I do what he’s incapable of and take a step back, breaking the spell.
His throat bobs with a hard swallow before he abruptly strides to the dresser behind me, arm brushing mine featherlight when he passes to snatch up his keys.
“Thanks for letting me have the room to myself.” I can’t resist.
Fang huffs a sound of disbelief and then strides to the door, tearing it open. The man hesitates, turning back to throw a final, “Find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” at me as though that wasn’t already my plan.
To get as far away from this complication as possible.