Page 43 of Stone

I move towards Sasha’s room, the door left slightly ajar. I peek at the sleeping angel, the image quickly becoming blurred from the tears that are streaming down my face.

God, I’m so stupid.

I grab a handful of the fabric of my T-shirt and use it to wipe away the snot and wetness from my face before turning and making my way downstairs.

Once in my room, I drag the battered holdall and backpack from under the bed. I go to my cupboard and pull out some clean underwear, jeans, T-shirt and a hoodie before stuffing as much as I can into the bags. I have no car, it’s still in the MC’s garage, and I sure as hell ain’t going to steal one, so I can only take what I can carry. All I need now is to get my stuff from the bathroom, so I grab the clean panties, bra and T-shirt and take them with me. I’d really love to shower, but at the risk of alerting Stone before I manage to get out of the front door, I decide against it, so I splash my face with water directly from the faucet, brush my teeth and quickly throw on the clothes.

With my hands full of toiletries, I use my back to push open my bedroom door, but before I’ve even had a chance to turn around, a deep, husky voice that I instantly recognize has me jumping, the toiletries crashing to the floor.

“So, you think you can just up and leave?” He’s sat on the edge of my bed, a fistful of my panties in his hand that he’s grabbed back out of the holdall.

“Stone,” I mumble, dropping to the floor to pick up the items that are now scattered around my feet. “It’s best if I go.”

“Best for who?” He pushes up off the bed, the panties now abandoned haphazardly over the comforter.

“You, Sasha, mainly Sasha.” His bare feet come into view right next to a pack of feminine towels. I want to look up, see his beautiful face, but I’m too chicken shit to face him, and it has nothing to do with the embarrassment of the period products. “It would be better all-round if I just left.”

As he leans down, he takes the items I’ve managed to retrieve from my hands and throws them onto the bed. He then holds out his hand, taking me completely by surprise. I hesitate, but only for a moment, deciding that he’s here, and unless I turn around and run like the devil is on my tail, I’m just going to have to face him.

“Okay,” I say, taking his hand and getting to my feet. Although I still can’t push myself to look at him, I reckon it’s time to come clean. “The truth, you were right. Sleeping with you was one huge mistake.”

“Way to boost my ego, sweetheart,” he chides back.

“Oh, Stone, your ego is just fine. Last night was… well amazing.”

“So, what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that I like you, really like you and I foolishly thought that one night would be enough to quench my growing infatuation, but it didn’t, and I can’t stay and watch you going off to… have sex with other women when I so desperately want it to be me.”

His finger taps the underneath of my chin, but I ignore his attempt at getting me to look at him. Ever the determined asshole, he cups my chin in his large hand and tilts up my whole head, leaving me little escape.

“Please, Stone, just let me go,” I plead, still fighting to avoid eye contact.

Stone

“Not on your fucking life,” I grit out. “If you think I’m going to let you walk out of here in the middle of the night, you’re mistaken.”

“Stone, please don’t make this more complicated than it is. Leaving is painful enough, but having to say goodbye to Sasha face-to-face would kill me.”

“I won’t let you leave,” although commanding, my tone is soft as I look deep into her eyes. “I can’t let you leave.”

“But why?” she huffs back at me.

“Because I was wrong.”

The feelings I have raging through me right now are crazy even to me, but if I’m honest with myself, Oriana has metaphorically grabbed me by the balls. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve fucked a lot of women over my thirty years, granted the majority of the time, it has been club whores and sweetbutts, but this overwhelming desire for her is different.

The best way I can put it is that it’s like I’ve been riding an inferior Suzuki V-storm motorcycle for years and then suddenly get my hands on a brand spanking new, sleek as fuck, Indian Scout Bobber. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Harley but the Indian, that’s pure class and the type of ride you want to keep.

I’ve never experienced anything like I just have with Oriana, and if I’m truly honest with myself. I’m not sure I will ever again. I want to keep her, have her in my life and in my bed.

“A relationship has never been something I was looking for, but over the last few weeks watching you, knowing you, has made me realize that my aversion to it was simply that I’d never connected with the right woman.” I relax my hold on her chin, her beautiful face now willingly tilted up at me as she holds my gaze.

“Until you, Oriana.”

I brush my lips across hers and taste the minty sweetness that lingers there.

“I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing or even if it’s the right thing for you, but I do know that when it comes to you, I’ve turned into a selfish prick and I’m not willing to let you go.” I take her mouth, an overwhelming need to prove to her that I mean what I say.

---