Page 25 of Hodge
“So, a woman moans, and you think you need to fix the issue?” I snarl in his direction.
“Not any woman, no.”
“Then why, Hodge?” I yell louder this time. Hodge wipes his hand down his face before bending over and pulling his shorts back up.
“I’ve done a lot of shit in my life. I’ve fucked up a lot of lives, Kemah.”
“Meaning?”
“Meanin’, I don’t want you involved in it.”
“I don’t even know you! You’re over here talking like we’re getting married, Hodge. What the fuck?” What is with him? He acts like we’re going to run to Vegas and get hitched when all it was was sex. It was just sex, right? He couldn’t look at me any differently, not after the girls I’ve seen around here.
“Just … go to sleep.”
“No.”
“I said go to sleep,” he demands this time. Fuck this. Fuck him. I don’t care if I have to be homeless; I’m not staying in this room with him. I roll my eyes, grab a pillow, and stomp toward the door when he stops me.
“Where the hell are you goin’?”
“I’ll sleep on one of the cum couches.” He snorts a laugh before blocking the door.
“No, you won’t.”
“Where am I sleeping then, Hodge? Because with you isn’t an option.”
“The fuck it’s not. I said you’re stayin’ in this room,” he argues.
“And I said fuck you,” I argue back.
“I would like nothin’ more than to sink my cock inside you. Show you what the fuck a real man feels like. Show you what a realman could do with a body like yours,” he says, keeping his tone even as he steps toward me.
“But?”
“You don’t deserve my life.”
“That makes no sense. You do know that, right?”
“Makes perfect sense. If I fuck you, Kemah-”
“What? If you fuck me, what?” He licks his lips and looks as if he’s torn on what he’s about to say, but I push him anyway. “What, Hodge? If you fuck me, what’s going to happen?”
“I’m keepin’ you! If I fuck you, I’m keepin’ you. You get that? I told myself a long time ago the next fuckin’ person I had my cock in was gonna be mine, Kemah!”
“You don’t want me.”
“How do you know?”
“You don’t know me.”
“You came back, Kemah. You fuckin’ stayed with me. Do you know what that means to someone like me?”
“What do you mean, someone like you?” I ask now.
“Someone like me! A man who’s been so fuckin’ lost for years he couldn’t see good things in front of him. A man who dragged someone else into his life and then watched it all shatter! A man so fuckin’ broken he never thought anyone could see through the shards at who he truly is! That’s what I mean.” His roar sends a chill down my spine. How can someone who looks so put together be that broken inside? What happened to him?
“A woman?” I ask softly, needing to know what happened.
