Page 17 of Mated
I wrench away, grab him by the throat, and slam him into the siding on my house. He stares at me, eyes wide. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I yell. The anger inside me ratchets higher, leaving my stomach aching as something raw builds inside me. “You don’t get to do that anymore. Not now. Not ever.”
A light turns on next door, flooding the yard with a soft golden glow. We both glance over as movement registers behind the closed curtain. I blink and step back.
Oh god. What the hell is wrong with me?
Chuck glares at me as he straightens his clothes. “We aren’t done talking about this, Nisha.”
I scoff and walk far around him. “Bye, Felicia.”
“Who the hell is Felicia?” he demands.
I wave over my head as the neighbor’s door opens. “And that is exactly the point, Chuck.”
I stumble into the house. And then immediately wish I hadn’t.
The scent of stale sex and Chuck hangs in the air. Saliva pools in my mouth and I run headlong for the bathroom.
Leaning over the toilet, I spit and shake until everything in my stomach is long gone. Acid grits in my teeth, but the smell is worse. I flush, wash my hands twice, and even spray the air with a disinfectant spray. But all the chemicals burn in my now too sensitive nose.
I whimper and dive out of the dark room, and it’s only then I realize I did everything without turning on a single fucking light.
There is nothing in me that wants to go to the bedroom, to verify all of Chuck’s stuff is gone. But my shift doesn’t start until eight a.m. Tomorrow. So no station.
For a split second I consider a diner, and then grimace at the concept of all the grease, people, and noise.
Slipping my hand into my pocket for my keys, my fingers brush the edge of a slip of paper. I pull it out.
A single phone number glares back. The number Lilah gave me.
For a moment, I hesitate.
Would any of them even still be up this late?
I walk to the handheld in the kitchen and dial the number before I can change my mind.
The line clicks and a low rumble pours into my ear. “It’s fucking six a.m. This better be good.”
My nipples peak as Tanner’s sexy rumble vibrates through me. “Tanner?” I ask. Just because I like punishing myself.
He falls silent. “Nisha?”
My eyes flutter as he croaks my name.
Oh wow.
“Yeah,” I say, breathy. “Your number was in my jeans.” Fuck. “I mean—Lilah gave me this number at the hospital. Said if I needed something …”
The silence stretches and for a minute I wonder if he hung up.
“You okay?” The question is simple and almost soft, but it makes my eyes burn.
I press my palm to my face.
Damn it.
Even worse than the heat in my body is these damn mood swings.
“Well … not really.” I sniff. “Look, I didn’t mean to call so early—late … whatever. But is everything supposed to be so …much?”
