Page 7 of Tell Me No
I roll my eyes at his lack of a backbone and level Breaker with an irate glare. What the fuck does this asshole want from me? Does he just want me to suffer along with him forever, never addressing the giant mammoth in the room? Because I won’t. I’ve chosen to protect my peace at all costs and I won’t sacrifice that for anyone, no matter how devastatingly gorgeous of a man he is.
“Excuse me, ass face. We were dancing.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and pushing my tits up, begging him to break. The black halter top I’m wearing hugs my curves perfectly, and I see his eyes barely dip down.
I open my mouth to say something bitchy, but he grabs my upper arm, turning me towards the door and pushing me forward. His callused hand squeezes to the point of pain, only it’s not painful. It’s a shot of adrenaline straight to the clit every time this man puts his hands on me. I know he would never physically hurt me, not unless I asked him to.
Once the cool night air hits my face, I realize I may have had one too many drinks tonight. My head feels a little hazy and I know I’m not as sharp as I always strive to be. He pushes me all the way through the line of people waiting to get inside, past the sidewalk, and out into the parking lot. I let him lead me all the way to his motorcycle before I rip my arm from his grasp and turn to face him.
“What the fuck, Jason? I was having a good time.” I snap at him.
“A good time? That’s what you call practically fucking Iris on the dance floor in the middle of a hundred people?” He yells back, both of us stepping closer and closer together, neither willing to back down.
“I was just dancing with him. Besides, why do you give a fuck, anyway? You’ve made it crystal clear that you’re not interested in me. So what business of yours is it if I walk back inside and let Iris bend me over the fucking bar?” I shout, knowing I just lit a fuse I won’t be able to disarm.
He charges forward, backing me up against the frame of his bike. I retreat a few steps, stopping short of tripping as he catches me around the waist. I gasp at the contact as he pulls be forward against his hard body. And I do meanhard.Everything about this man is rock solid, including his heart.
“That fucking mouth is going to get you in trouble, princess. Don’t you know women shouldn’t cuss like that?” He says, a smirk that almost looks playful sliding across his full lips. I take a moment to study his face. His features are hard, worn by time and experiences I can’t even fathom. The slight gray in his beard does absolutely nothing to distract from his catastrophic beauty. And that’s what he is, a catastrophe I’m not sure my heart will survive. But every day, I care less and less about making it out alive, as long as I get to be in his arms like this.
Snapping out of the hypnotic haze of lust he pulled me in to, I realize what he just said to me.Women shouldn’t cuss like that.What is this? Little House on the Prairie? My mother has been telling me that for years. But coming from this hypocrite, it lights a fire in me that urges me to fight back.
Slowly, I glide my hand up his chest, loving the feeling of every inch of solid muscle under his black t-shirt. My fingers graze over his nipples and he shudders slightly under my ministrations. I’m momentarily shocked to feel cool steel beneath the fabric. His fucking nipples are pierced. As if he wasn’t already the hottest man to walk the earth, let’s add a little metal to the mix. Biting my bottom lip, I look up at him through my long eyelashes, giving him my best innocent look. Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I bring my lips as close to his ear as I can.
“Women shouldn’t cuss like that?” I ask, and he grunts in response. “Respectfully, get fucked.”
I pull myself from his grasp, pushing him backwards and climbing onto the back seat of his bike. I don’t ask permission or forgiveness, just settle onto the seat with my arms crossed over my chest. “Take me home, Jason.”
Without another word, he slips his leather jacket off, wrapping it around my shoulders before climbing onto the seat in front of me. I wrap my arms around his waist just in time for him to floor the gas and take off into the night.
five
My arms feel like cement,knuckles burning from over use. I’ve been beating the shit out of the heavy bag in my home gym for the last two hours, just hoping to rid myself of thoughts of Aurora. The sound of my phone ringing finally pulls me away from torturing myself. It’s five in the morning. Who the fuck is calling me this early?
Elijah’s name flashes across the screen on my cell, and I swipe quickly. “Whats going on? You okay? Ember and the kids?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. We’re all fine. I just need to talk to you.” His voice is steady and serious. A weight drops in my stomach, knowing exactly what he wants to talk about. I just don’t know if I’m ready for this conversation.
“Ok, shoot.” I say, unwrapping the tape from around my knuckles. I grab a towel from the table and wipe the sweat from my face, dropping to sit on the weight bench.
“What’s going on, Break? Is there something happening with you and my sister?” Straight to the point, that’s how Eli has always been.
I’m silent for several long minutes, deciding for myself what’s really going on. The woman has infiltrated every defense I’ve put up to keep her out. To keep everyone out.
“The truth?” I ask him.
“Always, asshole,” he snaps back.
“She makes me feel…” Furious? Hard? Like I could kiss those soft, pillowy lips for the rest of my life? I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I search my mind for the answer, but all I come up with is something I’m sure he doesn’t really want to hear. “She makes mefeel, Elijah. I don't like it.”
He’s quiet for a long time, the soft clinking of a coffee cup the only indication that he’s still on the other end of the line.
“There’s nothing wrong with feeling something for someone, Breaker. It’s kinda what makes this shitty ass life worth living,” Eli finally says, and I know he’s right.
“Feeling anything for anyone is a liability in my line of work, Elijah. You know that,” I tell him and I hear a heavy sigh on his end of the line.
“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it,” he replies.
“Yeah, well, I don’t need a woman in my life, Elijah.” I say, brushing him off.
“All I’m saying is, hypothetically, ifsomeonewas interested in my sister, I wouldn’t have a problem with that. She’s a big girl. It’s her choice,” he retorts.
