Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“What do you think?” Gwynee places the flowers Lunatic bought me in a vase on the kitchen counter. “This was my space before I moved in with Big Daddy. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before the guys lugged all my stuff to storage.” She grins.
“I won’t complain about watching the guys move everything back in with their shirts off,” Sissy tells me with this dreamy look on her face, shoving a piece of chocolate in her mouth.
Gwynee and I both burst out laughing at the same time.
“You better not let your father hear you say that.”
Sissy sticks out her tongue.
“This is perfect. You sure you don’t mind lending me your furniture?”
“I’m not using it. It would just be sitting in storage, collecting dust anyway.”
Lunatic and Kidd bring in the couch and a couple of lamps. “That should be the last of it.” Kidd wipes the sweat from his brow with a bandana.
“And that’s our cue to go,” Gwynee pushes Sissy toward the door.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, we do. I’ve got plans with my man, and this one has a room to clean.”
Sissy rolls her eyes and makes a gun with her fingers, mouthing, ‘Kill me.’
Lunatic laughs and everyone exits in a flash, leaving the two of us alone.
He’s about to say something, but I bulldoze ahead of him.
“I don’t need a babysitter, you know. I can manage fine on my own.
” I mean it, but the second the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back.
Lunatic’s the only reason I’m not dead in a ditch or back in Mexico, and I’m acting like a bitch.
As if I don’t want him here. I’m such a fucking mess.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had my own bedroom, let alone my own place.
“I know.” He moves closer, scans my face. “I can go.”
“No. Stay. We should celebrate. I can cook us dinner.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
I grab his forearm. “It can be my thank you for taking such good care of me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. We should go to the store.”
“Why don’t I take you out?”
“No. This is my treat.” I have a little money saved up from my tips at the bar and a little extra Hot Mama snuck into my bag when I wasn't looking. The club paid my rent up for six months, and I’ll start working next week at a flower shop.
“It’s my first night in my new place. I’ve never had my own kitchen before. And Gwynee lent me her cookware.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” Gwynee left me a list of all the nearby businesses and where to shop.
I grab my wallet and my keys.
Lunatic and I stroll to a nearby market.
He pushes the cart while I work my way down a mental checklist of ingredients for spaghetti.
It’s cheap and easy not to screw up. I grab fresh green peppers, onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms to chop up for my sauce while he picks out the beer.
We meet back up in the pasta aisle where we argue about whether angel hair or thick noodles are better.
In the end, we agree on ziti and baking it in the oven.
Being out with Lunatic like this almost feels like we’re a couple, even though we’ve technically never had a date.
He carries the bags back to my place, and he keeps the conversation light and moving forward, telling me about his latest builds he’s been overseeing as I prepare our meal.
For the first time in my life, I have true peace as I look at this gorgeous hunk of a man sitting on my couch drinking beer and looking like he belongs.
I don’t have a TV, but I don’t mind. I’m used to not having one, anyway.
I have my first cell phone, that’s mine.
I bought it with my own money. Well, Hot Mama ordered it for me, but I’ve not used it since I set it up two weeks ago.
It’s not like I’m chronically online or anything, but I scroll through my home screen now and then.
I stare at the smiling stock photo, pretending it’s a future version of myself.
Some girl with flawless teeth and hair that’s never met a split end.
Maybe I’ll get there someday. For now, it’s enough just not to want to die.
It’s enough to be alive.
I sauté all my chopped vegetables and let the scent of garlic fill the kitchen. “What can I do to help?” Lunatic asks, hands like bear paws bracing either side of the counter. He crowds my space even when he tries not to, big and solid and unknowingly tender.
I hand him the frozen loaf of garlic bread. “Split this open on the cooking sheet.” I excuse myself to the bathroom to catch my breath.
When I come back, he gives me a knowing smile like he knows I went in there to avoid him until the noodles were done boiling.
Dinner is nearly ready and I’m nervous. Which is embarrassingly stupid considering I’ve seen Lunatic naked, and he’s seen me at my absolute worst. Crying and puking. Coming down off drugs. Track marks bruising my body.
I know how his dick tastes. How big it is. How thick. My cheeks warm at the memory.
I glance over at him. He’s so damn fine and sexy it should be a crime to look that good.
He’s wearing jeans and a dark tee that hugs every inch of him. He keeps hovering, pulling beers from the fridge or wiping the counter when my back’s turned, like he can’t figure out what to do with his hands. Like maybe he wants to put them all over me and part of me wishes he would.
But he’s sweet. Respectful.
I love how safe he makes me feel. Like if anyone bad tried to come for me, they’d have to go through him. I can’t help but wonder if that applies to Tyrant, too. Thankfully, I’ve not had any run-ins with him.
“You want Parmesan?” I ask, holding up the green canister.
“Make it snow,” he says. His eyes keep tracking me, like he’s waiting for me to run or disappear altogether.
I get it, though. In the back of my mind, I know at some point the Juarez brothers are going to contact me, and when they do, I’ll be ready.
I’m not the same girl who feared her own shadow three months ago.
I shovel salad and pasta onto our plates, and we sit at the counter on the barstools, courtesy of Gwynee. After he takes a few bites, I ask, “How did I do?”
“Good.” He swallows a bite of bread down with his beer.
“I forgot to get dessert.”
“That can be on me. I happen to know a place with killer strawberry milkshakes.”
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything, Babygirl.”
“Why do you call me that?”
He frowns. “You don’t like it.”
“No, I do.”
“You hate it. I can see it on your face.”
“No, it’s sweet.”
“I’ll stop.”
“Don’t.” I grab his hand. “I like it. I was only curious.” I bite his thumb.
“What was that for?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to bite you.”
He laughs and tugs on one of my loose curls, then tucks it behind my ear. His gaze softens and moves to my lips. “You’ve got something.” He leans in closer and wipes the corner of my mouth with the rough pad of his thumb.
“Did you get it?”
“I don’t know. Let me look.” He grabs my chin and presses his lips to mine in a swift motion that catches me off guard but is welcome. His lips move against mine, smelling of garlic and tasting of beer.
It’s a damn good thing I’m sitting down because my knees are weak.
He pulls back. “Was that okay?”
I respond by moving in for another kiss.
I slip my tongue into his mouth and he groans, placing his hands on the sides of my neck.
He doesn’t make a move for anything more.
He simply kisses me soft and sweet, letting me be in control of where this is going.
I want more so much more, but I don’t want to rush this.
I’ve never dated. Never had a boyfriend. This is all new to me.
“How about that milkshake?” I suggest to keep myself from inviting him into my bed.
“Whatever you want.”
Over the next week, we settle into a routine. Lunatic comes over for dinner, or we go out. Tonight he’s taking me to a movie. We’ve made out, but everything has stayed over the clothes. I know I set the pace of taking things slow, but now I’m thinking that things are moving too slow.
He’s taking me to the movies tonight to watch some new horror flick.
We’re doubling with Hero and his woman, Ophelia. I’ve met her a few times. She’s sweet.
I video call Gwynee for advice on my outfit. “Do I look cheap?” I show her the jeans and black halter top I’m wearing.
“You look great.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I think tonight might be the night.”
“You sure you’re ready?” Gwynee knows some of my history, but she doesn’t know the last time I had penetrative sex it was when Tyrant raped me. I’ve worked through it in therapy, but I am nervous. Not about Lunatic. I know he would never hurt me. The rumble of a motorcycle sounds from outside.
“Ooh, he’s here. Talk later.”
“I want details,” she shouts as I end the call.
I slip on my black boots and grab my wristlet and keys.
As I’m coming out the door, my sexy biker is walking up.
He lets out a whistle and holds my hand up for me to give him a twirl. “Damn, that ass.” He pulls me in for a kiss that turns very handsy.
“I mean, we can skip the movie,” I murmur against his lips.
“I promised you a movie date.”
I follow him down to his motorcycle and hope my helmet doesn’t completely flatten my hair. Celia gave me some products and tips. I’m learning how to be a little girly for my guy.
We ride through town to the local cinema. I haven’t been to the movies since I was a little kid. I think. Two other motorcycles pull up on either side of us as I’m climbing off Lunatic’s Harley. One belongs to Hero and I don’t know who the other guy is.
Not until he takes off his helmet.
My stomach drops to my feet at the sight of Tyrant.
I’ve managed to avoid him since I’ve been back.
I was bound to run into him at some point.
I wasn’t expecting it to happen tonight.
He’s got some chick with him that eyes me up and down like she needs to approve of me.
When I see the hungry way she’s looking at my guy, it clicks.
She must be one of the women he fucked when I was in Lonerock.
I can’t be mad at him for it. We weren’t together and we’ve not really put a label on what we are.
I straighten my spine and pour my energy into pretending Tyrant doesn’t exist.
All six of us get our tickets. The guys get in line for our snacks and drinks while Layla drags Ophelia and me to the bathroom. I know a mean girl when I see one, and she’s definitely going to be a problem.
Ophelia goes into a stall, leaving me with this chick.
She touches up her lipstick in the mirror.
“Props to you, girl. I hear you’ve managed to lock Lunatic down.
” She smirks. “He’s a damn good lay. Don’t you think?
” My cheeks redden at her crudeness. “You have fucked him, right? God, the way he eats pussy.” She moans.
“You ever tire of him? You can send him back my way.”
I ball my fist at my side and count to five.
She looks at me and laughs before sauntering out.
A toilet flushes, and Ophelia exits the stall to wash her hands. “Ignore her. She’s just jealous.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Trust me. She just wants a reaction. Bitches like that thrive on attention. Let her smother.”
Ophelia loops her arm through mine, and together we trail Layla down the dark, carpeted hallway to the theater where the guys are waiting for us.
Lunatic stands off to the side holding my soda and a monster tub of popcorn.
He gives me my drink and puts a hand on my lower back, drawing me closer.
The way Layla eyes his hand and then stares daggers at me makes my skin buzz.
I force a flirty smile and tiptoe up to kiss his cheek, making sure the salty bitch sees it.
I expect her to scowl or huff, but instead she smiles, all teeth. “Hope the movie isn’t too scary for you, Daisy.” The way she says it makes my stomach sour, but Lunatic squeezes my waist. I can’t help but wonder what Tyrant or Lunatic may have told her about me.
“C’mon, Babygirl. Let’s find our seats.”
I ignore the look she gives him as she saunters past us. He doesn’t seem to pay her any mind, which makes me feel better.
The opening credits are a blur. I’m too aware of Lunatic’s hand on my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the dark denim.
He holds the popcorn in his lap. The way we’re seated is Tyrant, Layla, Lunatic, me, then Ophelia, and Hero.
I go to put my hand in the popcorn bucket and find Layla’s hand in it.
She smiles sickly sweet at me when I shoot her a dirty look. “Oops. Reflex. I’m right-handed.”
Lunatic gives her a cross look, but he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he puts the bucket in my lap and brings my left hand to his lap, linking his fingers with mine.
The movie’s nothing special. It’s loud with lots of gore.
There’s zero romance, but I let myself relax by resting my head on his shoulder and pretending nobody in the world exists except us.
His arm wraps around the back of my neck, thumb tracing lazy circles over my skin.
I can’t focus on the screen. Every nerve is tuned to his touch.
The way my body heats whenever he touches me has my skin on fire.
All I want is to get him alone, to see if tonight he’ll finally cross the invisible line I drew between us and fuck me.
Layla keeps glancing over at us, but I don’t give her an opportunity to interrupt us. I shrink into him at every kill scene, hiding my eyes in his neck, giving him soft kisses there and behind his ear.
The closing credits roll, and we file out.
“Are you guys coming to the clubhouse?” Tyrant questions and I can’t help but wonder if he has some ulterior motive in asking.
I haven’t been back there since I moved into my apartment. “I work in the morning,” I mumble as Lunatic says, “maybe for a minute.”
Layla smirks at me, and I get a terrible feeling about this.
“We don’t have to go if you aren’t up for it,” Lunatic tells me, handing me my helmet.
“It’s fine. I want to see Gwynee anyway,” I lie. I need to get this over with. Part of healing is being able to face the past.