Page 55 of Clashing
She curled her fingers around my biceps and mewed into my mouth. I rubbed her faster, harder. She whimpered, falling out of the kiss, eyes squeezed shut. I knew her body well, and when she was close, I stopped.
She whined and shoved against my chest. “You’re such a dick.”
“What’s that? You want my dick?” I placed her hand over my bulge. She flushed and traced my throbbing erection. “If you want it, you have to ask nicely.”
Her hand tightened around my cock and all thoughts of telling her this thing between us had to end flew out of my mind.
Chapter sixteen
Crisis
Scarlett
Tuesdaysbecamedinnernightwith Dan no matter what. He made sure we both had the day off and we alternated cooking. While he made the same grilled cheese every time it was his turn, I didn’t mind. I liked his sandwiches, and the food wasn’t the point.
The only thing that sucked was the stomach-knotting guilt from sneaking around with Ryker. Dan wasn’t stupid. He knew something was up and, unfortunately, knew me well enough to know a guy was involved. The fact that I wouldn’t tell him worried him. I hated that.
Creaking above alerted me that Dan was on his way downstairs. I braced myself as I finished the fajitas, trying to think of new and creative ways to dodge his questions for the night because I couldn’t tell him yet. I had to talk to Ryker first.
I shut off the stove and gathered plates from the cupboard when Dan shouted. The floor creaked louder, and then there was a loudthud, followed by several others, then acrash. Dan cried out, and I sprinted to the foyer.
Panic seized my muscles, freezing me for a few seconds. Dan lay on the ground with a cut on his temple. Blood streamed from the wound, dripping onto the floor. The plates from my hand clattered to the wooden boards, shattering.
“Dan!”
Rushing to his side, I then turned him over. He groaned, his face contorting in pain. My hands hovered over him, afraid to touch in case I made it worse.
“What happened?” I scrambled for my phone.
He cringed, his eyes dazed. “My knee gave out.”
His slurred tone knotted my stomach. He hadn’t started drinking, yet his voice was slow and odd. I forced back tears and started dialing 911, but he huffed.
“No ambulance. They’re too expensive.”
“Are you serious?” I gaped. “You fell down the fucking stairs. You’re bleeding!”
“We can go to the hospital but no ambulance.” His stubborn tone contrasted with his vulnerable demeanor as his eyes slid shut again, his breath short and harsh.
My heart raced and I swallowed, eyeing the gash on his head.How the hell does he expect me to get him in a car?He probably broke something. Or somethings. I didn’t want to make it worse.
I dialed Ryker’s number without thinking. He answered after the first ring and the words tumbled out of me faster than my tears spilled. “Dan fell down the stairs.”
“What? In his house?”
“Yes.” I scrubbed away the tears and set my hand on Dan’s trembling shoulder. “He’s hurt bad, and he hit his head, and he won’t let me call an ambulance.”
“Hang on, sugar. I’m at the bar. I’ll be right there.”
The call ended and the phone fell from my shaking hand.
Dan winced with every breath. “Who was that?”
“Ryker. He’s coming over.” I took in a long inhale to steady my voice. He needed me to be strong, not panicky. I traced the wound on his head. “I can’t move you by myself. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
Grunting, he gave a light nod. “Don’t worry, honey.”
God, he could have a concussion.
