FOURTEEN
Tequila
“Mom, please don’t. My schedule is full, and I don't want you all to come for no reason. Like I mentioned before, I am committed to being there for Christmas, I promise.”
“It’s already settled. Your father and I are coming, and we hope your brother will join us, but who knows what he’ll be up to?”
It's typical of my mom to do this. She's been relentlessly asking me to visit for a while, and of course I miss them, but how can I hide my life from them now?
The cushion engulfs me as I sink deeper into the couch. “Mom. Please, it’s not a good time—”
“It never is. This saves you from having to make time. We will come to you. Consider it a pre-Thanksgiving celebration, and I won't accept any excuses, young lady. We’ll see you soon. Love you. Bye!”
Just as I'm about to protest again, the other line goes dead.
An early Thanksgiving? It's not even Halloween yet.
“You okay, dear? Why the long face and sad eyes?” Maggie walks into the back of the club carrying two glasses of red wine and my mouth waters from here.
“I hope one of those is for me.”
She chuckles. “It is now. I planned to deliver it to Chain, but he'd prefer if his secret love for wine remained unknown. The gigantic brute has a reputation to keep.” She holds out a glass for me. “He is tough, big, and sometimes a tad intimidating. But underneath that muscle is a softie who likes to sip Chianti.”
“His secret is safe with me.” I pretend to zip my lips and throw away the imaginary key.
I’m glad she’s here. My body is less tense by her nurturing presence.
Maggie’s shoulders rise, then fall. “When we met, it was instant fireworks. Water went everywhere when the sink in my apartment burst, and I couldn't stop it. In a hurry, I reached for the phone book and dialed the first plumber's name I came across.”
I snorted. “Wait. Chain was a plumber?” While being a plumber is not a bad thing, I always imagined him as a tough biker. Hard to picture him as someone else.
“Hey now, remember, we met young. Younger than you. Regardless, I called him in a state of panic, claiming it was urgent.” Her cheeks turn pink. “And I’ll never forget when he showed up at my door, how unbelievably handsome he was. He was just as big, with dark hair resembling the night sky. He was the same grump though, and I somehow couldn’t resist.”
I smile. “Then what happened?”
“He fixed my sink.” She wiggles her brows while taking a sip of her red. “And it was history from there. Been by his side since. I was there for him when he started the club. Still love him with all my heart.”
“Did you both ever want kids?” That may have been too personal to ask.
“It wasn't meant to be. I couldn’t get pregnant.” Her eyes soften before widening back to normal.
I was unaware of the reason. I always thought it was what they wanted. My chest aches for her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. Besides, we have you guys to keep us young. You’re the children we never had. This club is the only family we need.”
I bite my lip to suppress the tears.
“Well, I didn't mean for this to be so deep. Good Lord. So, is there anything you’d like to get off your chest?”
I want to say the reason for my pouting. Why would someone who hasn't seen their family in a while decide to keep their distance? But I can’t tell anyone.
“I'm expecting a visit from my parents, and they're clueless of me working here.”
“Ah, and you’re worried they’ll be upset because of who we are.”
“I hate to say it, but yes. They might need more convincing than I did, as not everyone is as accepting.”
“I understand. How about you invite them for dinner here and we’ll show our kindness beneath the tough exterior of rawness, muscle, and tattoos?”
“I can’t ask you to do that. I mean, it’s too much.”
“Not at all. Having guests would be thrilling. By the way, how is your new man doing?”
Of course, she knew who Caleb was. Word travels fast here.
“He’s pretty great. Successful. Nice. did I mention sexy?” The corners of my mouth turn, but they don’t reach my eyes. “We’re only… talking.”
She smiles. “Just be sure he makes you happy. Always remember to accept nothing less than what you deserve.”
I understood. “Thanks, Maggie. For the talk.”
“Oh, and one more thing. If this new guy doesn't work out, maybe give someone else a little time. I bet he comes around.” With that, Maggie winks and leaves with the distant sound of her boot chains rattling.
Caleb isn’t the guy and she and I both realize that.
Finishing my wine, I am left with a lingering bitterness on my tongue. It was foolish of me to yearn for a man who was out of reach. I’m aware, but no one else gave me the stomach flutters or made my heart beat like mad.
With my empty glass in hand, I make my way to the front and a muffled sound echoes from upstairs. In Throttle’s room.
Ignore it.
I've never felt as conflicted as I do with Throttle. Yet, I continue opening the same door over and over again.
Keep going, Tequila, keep walking.
No good can come from this curiosity. Then why was I climbing the stairs?
With each step I take, the wood beneath my shoes creak, and the moans increase in volume. I want to witness it for myself. Wonder how he fucks other women.
As I press my ear to the wood, all that reaches me is a gentle murmur. No more pleasuring noises.
Upon hearing shuffling and footsteps, I try to distance myself, but I'm always too slow. The door opens and his preferred blondie stands opposite me, surprised and staring. “Uh, hi.” She saunters away, carrying her heels.
My heart drops and the little green monster inside rears its ugly head.
I should have kept walking.
“Tequila?” Throttle remains there. With his palms on the door frame, he leans against the wood, towering like a skyscraper. He's wearing only grey sweatpants that hang low, revealing his V. He's smooth except for a small patch leading toward his length. It makes sense now why they refer to it as a happy trail. I'm willing to wager that he's big, too. Experienced and… his abs are so defined I want to run my fingers down them, rub the fading bruise that still lingers from the accident.
“You are eye fucking me and I must admit… I’m not upset about it.” His eyes are glossy and tense.
Oh my God. I was.
With my face burning and a desperate attempt to turn away, he seizes my arm and drags me into his room. He slams the door closed, pushing me against it.
It's stuffy and smells like sex. I glance behind him and notice his messy bed. I visualize them together. Throttle on top and thrusting inside her.
“I’m sorry you saw that.” His breath reeks of alcohol.
“You don’t owe me any explanation. We're just friends,” I say as I try to leave, but he traps me against the door with both hands, and my body responds in a way that makes me aware of each tingle.
The intense heat travels to places I yearn for him to explore.
“Friends, huh? Right now, I’m not so sure. You came up here for a reason. Are you curious, my rose?”
Oh God.
Because of his drinking, he's not acting himself. But it doesn’t prevent me from tracing each tattoo with my eyes. Marveling at the sharp ripple of muscle. I study the small cross charm that dangles just above his hard chest and before I can stop myself, I’m reaching for it, settling the piece of metal between my fingers. There’s an engraving on the back, but I can’t make it out.
I take in a breath as he presses my hand against his smooth pecs. We lock eyes and tiny beads of sweat glisten on his forehead.
Gradually, he moves our hands downward and whispers. “Is this what you want?”
Yes!
He comes to a stop, our palms resting on his abs. I swallow and then emit a desperate whimper. Our breaths mingle, and the ache between my thighs grows stronger.
He firmly holds onto the inside of my upper leg. “I bet if I were to touch you, you’d be soaking wet.”
Arrogant but yes. I am. Soaked is an understatement.
Moving nearer, he aligns his body with mine, and his hardness presses against my lower stomach.
Wait. That’s for me. He’s hard for me.
“I hate myself for it, but I want you. Right now, Tequila, I want you so fucking bad I can taste it.”
What?!
I inhale our shared breath with difficulty. “Take me” is what I long to scream. The number of times I wish for those words, I lost count. But… not like this. Just moments ago, he was with another woman. It's humiliating and infuriating how he dares to demean me.
Tears threaten as I shut my eyes. His opinion of me is so low that he would ask for sexual favors after being with someone else. To agree is heartbreak. And it’d be devastating.
I nuzzle him away. “You’ve been drinking. Not to mention a woman just walked out of here looking like you turned her world upside down or right side up. I’m not sure,” I say, and he winces. “So, no, Throttle, you cannot have me.”
His head rears back and his eyes flash with regret. “You’re right. Fuck. I can’t believe I said that. Fuck!” He punches the wall beside me, and I jump. While he would never harm me, alcohol is influencing him in being a dick. “Forget it. I need you to erase every word, Tequila. Got me? I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what I was saying.”
He reaches around and opens the door. I'm at a loss for words. When I’m able to voice it, my blood is lava hot.
“Go get some coffee, Throttle. And maybe I’ll let go of the fact you treated me like a whore.” I leave, not allowing him time to respond.
I disregard the suspicious looks until I reach my car outside.
One tear falls. Then another, and another. Before I realize it, my tears are cascading down my face, impossible to halt. It’s disturbing the amount of control one man has over me. Every emotion. I despise it. It frustrates me how easily he can manipulate me.
From the start, I've been damned if this is what love is supposed to feel like.
It's a shame that he’s caused me such pain, and I let him.