Page 29 of Filthy Savage
Angel
I humto myself while drying off from my shower. I’m still blissful after what me and Axe just did together in that motel bed. Is it possible to sleep in it after such indulgence? A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. What we did was close to vanilla sex by my usual tastes, yet it was more intense than anything I’ve ever felt with another man.
Of course, none of it means anything, really. Well, except for the undisputable fact that we’re compatible in bed. That’s where the similarities between us end. I glance over at him, slipping on an oversized t-shirt. Just because we’ve slept together on this bed doesn’t mean I’m going naked underneath those dingy sheets. Putting bare knees and hands on top of them was bad enough. Even having to wear this god-awful t-shirt pisses me off. Out of everything Axe shoved into my backpack, it’s the only item of clothing that comes close to working as sleepwear.
Presumptuous bastard.
I look on as Axe gets up, digs through his little satchel bag, and retrieves a pack of cigarettes. It’s a nasty habit, but I can only say that because I just kicked the addiction six months ago with the help of the patch. Dammit, I can judge him and envy him at the same time. I roll my eyes at myself, turning away to put my hair into a high bun. No way I’m bumming a smoke off of him.
“Hey, want a smoke?” Axe asks.
“Uh, sure.”
Dammit. I can’t say no to the man. I look down at the spot on my arm where the patch used to be. “Actually, I’ll pass for now, but thanks for the offer.”
“Cool. I’ll be outside,” he announces, raising the pack of cigarettes in one hand and his cell phone in the other. “I’ll give you a little peace and quiet for a bit.”
For a goofball and a sarcastic asshole, he sure has his considerate moments. He’s way sweeter than I ever gave him credit for. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s jarring as hell.
The door clicks shut, and I crawl into the bed, grabbing the TV remote from the night table. Maybe I can see which of the five channels this dinky place has that are actually working right. Midway through my channel surfing Axe’s voice grows loud enough to hear pieces of his conversation through the door. I mute the TV, still absently watching the images as I focus on what I can pick up from the other side of the door. The sounds are all jumbled together, but the urgent tone is evident. Assuming it’s in my best interest to know what’s going down, I slide off the bed and head over to the door. I don’t need to press my ear against the peeling paint. Every word is crystal clear
“…it’s not like that, bro. Stop putting words in my mouth—”
Whatever he says must be cut off on the other end. Axe makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, making a concerted effort to get whoever is on the other end of the line to stop talking long enough to hear him out.
“Just because I’m staying in the room with her doesn’t mean I’m going to wife up, bro. Get your head on straight. She’s not my old lady. I’m fucking working here.” Axe’s voice grows louder with each syllable until the last word hits my ear.
I ball my hands into fists, trying to hold it together. I’m the one in the wrong for eavesdropping, but still, every cell in my body is ready to throw open the door, tackle him to the ground, and put him in a chokehold. Not that he deserves that much effort. What the hell is wrong with me in the first place that I even let him in? I’m the idiot, practically allowing him to own me just now when the truth is we’re nothing to each other.
I grunt and head back to bed. I don’t need to hear anything else. He’s made his point loud and clear, enough that I almost kick myself for being so gullible. My core is still throbbing, aching for him to be inside of me again, while Axe is out there pointing out the obvious—that I’m nothing but another gig to him. This is yet another reason that casual sex is not worth the hassle. I’ve been way more intimate with him than just an occasional thing. I physically wince at my hypocrisy. I may not have verbalized my feelings, but I sure as hell dismissed him early on.
The creak of the door opening abruptly makes me jump.
“Hey. I’ve got to run a quick errand with the bike,” Axe says gruffly from outside, hand still wrapped around the doorknob. “Don’t open the door for anyone. I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Christ.
Being stuck in this room only makes it worse. All the overanalyzing is getting to me, and now, Axe is rushing off to God knows where with no explanation. All I want now is to see my mom, to return to my safe and predictable librarian job, and to be back with my dogs. How I miss their cold noses and sharp little barks. Even their unique quirks are adorable now. If I have to hunker down and hide for more than a day or two, I’ll have to get someone to take my pets to my parents.
Axe’s bike roars to life and rumbles out of the hotel parking lot. Letting out a long sigh, I run a hand through my hair and stretch out in bed. Basic cable has to have less drama going on than what is storming around in my head.
