SIXTEEN
Tequila
My stomach rumbles. I've barricaded myself in my room for hours, hoping that Throttle would leave. I expected him to give up, but he's still here, and I need food ASAP.
Once I got rid of the robe, I switched to my night tank and shorts. With setting aside my ego, I make my way to the living area, where I find him casually spread out on my couch. With his legs out and ankles crossed, they sit on my beat-up coffee table. He showcases his bicep muscles by resting his interlocked fingers behind his head. And he’s watching my tv. The audacity.
“Have you finally come to your senses?” he asks, but pays no attention to my existence, not even bothering to glance in my direction. But sensed I was there. I want to slap that smug voice directly out of him, yet I’d like to have him thrust his very large penis inside me.
I will never hate him. Which added to the frustration.
I open the refrigerator and head straight for the remaining pizza I saved from the earlier evening. My stomach continues to growl and curses me for starving it. “I would offer you some, but I'm hoping to make you leave by depriving you of food.”
Rising to his feet, he removes his leather cut and carefully places it on the couch. “I helped myself to your fridge an hour ago. Pizza was good but should have asked for extra cheese.”
I suddenly become aware that the only two slices I had are missing. “Ugh! I hate you right now,” I mumble, both knowing that’s not true.
I give up and shut the fridge and remember I need to feed Nemo. At least one of us gets to eat. “Sorry buddy, it’s late.”
“What's the story with the fish?”
I cover Nemo’s food and slide the tank lid closed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why the fish? Did the store run out of cats and dogs?”
I seize a Pop Tart. “I don't have the financial capacity to get a dog or cat, in case you didn't notice. Besides, Nemo is a great pet. He listens to me.” Now I sound like a lunatic.
He fixates his gaze on me. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He sighs. “Tequila… this is one of the worst places for you to live. It's unsafe. Really fucking dangerous.”
I exhale, feeling my hunger disappear. “Do you think I'm unaware of that? Having to check my surroundings at every given moment is exhausting and terrifying. But I can’t move out. A nicer place would mean making sacrifices. Like school. So, until I finish, graduate and find a job, I have no other choice.” My voice shakes.
Throttle cups my cheek with his warm palm. “I’ve been doing nothing but apologizing, but I am sorry. Sorry for back at the Chains. Demanding you to leave. I’m sorry for being a complete asshole.” Tears escape me, falling into his inked hands. “But I can’t let you stay. Get where I’m coming from? The club has extra rooms or hell, I’ll pay for an apartment in a decent neighborhood.”
He would. He would do that for me.
“I appreciate that. But you need to understand my reason for saying no.”
He pulls in the air that separates us. “Dammit. I know.” He grins, and I thought for sure He was going to fight me more. “My girl is so headstrong yet stubborn.”
I smile through the tears. “I’m not yours.”
“You’ll always be my girl, Tequila.” Right then, something flashes in his eyes, but it was uncertain what it was.
My heart stutters.
With the rough pads of his thumbs, he gently brushes aside my sorrows and then moves away. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but… if you refuse to move, then you gotta compromise with me. You won’t leave here without either me, a prospect, or one of the other guys from the club.”
“A bit of overkill, don’t you think?”
“It’s not enough. If I knew you wouldn’t chop my balls off, I’d have a patrol of men outside.”
I laugh. Throttle constantly irritates me yet captures my heart repeatedly. He possesses the ability to both break it and fix it. Despite making me angry, I never wish to miss a day with him. It’s toxic and damaging. Yet, I long for it.
I resist the fatigue engulfing my body, gazing into the eyes of the man I adore. “Can we call a truce? Given that it's late, I'm fine with you staying over if you want to. I’ll get the couch set up.”
Not uttering a word, he acknowledges with a nod. And then sits on my lumpy, uncomfortable couch, untying his boots.
I retrieve a spare pillow and blanket from the small storage closet and place them on the sofa for him. The moment he pulls off his shirt, my stomach twirls. I've seen him without one countless times, but it never gets boring. He’s so flawless.
As soon as he starts removing his jeans, I make my exit. “Okay, sleep well.” I fast run to the bedroom.
Not twenty minutes later, I’m staring up at my ceiling. Was I surprised I can’t fall asleep? Not when Throttle, the love of my being, is sleeping thirty feet away. Perched on the absolute worst piece of furniture in existence. Also, with his size, it’s too small.
Every time he moves, it squeaks like it's going to collapse. But I shouldn’t feel bad. He’s upset me more than once in the last twenty-four hours.
Still…
I throw off my covers and approach him, only to see him pummeling the pillow and thrashing. “Come on. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep out here.”
“I’m fine. This is great.” He tries to lie, but it’s obviously not great.
“It’s a terrible couch. And to be honest, I can’t sleep with you fidgeting out here. So, I demand you swap me.”
He doesn't need to know the actual reason I couldn't sleep.
“Fine.” He snatches the pillow, resting it under his arm. “You’re right. Your couch fucking sucks. I’m buying you a new one tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes, but he grabs my hand, dragging me behind him. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not sleeping on that piece of shit.” He lets me go, only to crawl under my sheets.
Fine, whatever. We've shared a bed before. Mine’s a queen, but he makes it look like a futon.
I slide in next to him, our arms touching, and catch a glimpse of his closed eyes. His shallow breaths fade away, leaving him in peaceful serenity.
My sight lingers for a minute, and I can't help but touch the cross tattoo on his forearm with my fingertips. Unthinking, I trace each one, stopping only at the last, just above his boxers.
He startles me as he grabs my hand. “That tickles.”
Our gaze remains locked, impossible to break, as if the moments stand still.
“Time to sleep, my rose.” He spins, the muscles on his back staring at me, but disappointment rushes through me.
Clutching the sheet against my chest, I find slumber.