Page 19 of Forged in Rain

What did he do with the picture of me that was his background?

I’m sure he now has a chick with big tits and zero personality who answers to his every demand and wouldn’t think about defying him.

“Nothing,” I mutter, “We should go.”

“We have time,” he says, raising an amused brow as he looks through my shit.

Grabbing for the phone, I flush to the roots of my hair when he flashes me the pictures I saved, one of which is of the two of us from that last night before everything fell apart.

I’m sleepy, and he’s sexy as fuck, but it was a moment I don’t want to forget.

He must remember the circumstances, too, because I betrayed him once more after we had incredible sex. Or at least that’s what he believes in his fucked-up head.

The smile falls from his face, and he rolls up and sits facing away from me, dropping the phone on the bed.

With a sad smile, I glance at that picture of him with his bedroom eyes and sexy smirk next to me, rumpled and sleepy, and wish I could go back to that time.

Really, I’d take anything but right now.

“What happened with Hate?” I ask, rubbing my aching tummy.

I’m simultaneously hungry and nauseated as I rise and pull back my hair.

“He’s looking into shit. We need more info, though. Doesn’t make sense for Jagger to be talking to Saul when we’re already working for him.”

“Okay, so what next?” I ask, dropping my hands when he turns to me with a moody expression.

His eyes trace over my stomach with a tic in his jaw before he asks roughly, “Why didn’t you tell me about Iris?”

“You wouldn’t listen to me. I tried.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?” he barks. “Because now’s the time to tell me. I’m not up for more fucking lies.”

“I never lied,” I mutter.

“Really? I looked you straight in the eye and asked you if you messed with that dick, and what did you say?”

Staring at him, I wilt under his ugly glare, flinching when he says roughly, “Well?”

“I didn’t fuck him,” I whisper.

“You sure could have fooled me,” he bellows.

“I was high. I wasn’t even lucid, but we didn’t fuck. Besides, it was before you decided we’re dating or whatever you called it. I’m tired of being judged by someone who’s fucked half the school.”

“You messed with a rival gang on my turf,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You were probably fucking some other chick anyway. You don’t care about that shit. You only cared about being first.”

“Yeah, well, I got in there, didn’t I?” he sneers.

Grabbing the pillow off the bed, I toss it at his head and scream, “You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Yeah, and you’re a slut!”

Stepping back, I stare at him, dumbfounded, before stalking from the room and ignoring his low growl as I do.

With nowhere else to go, I close myself in the bathroom and lean against the wood, choking on a sob, because despite everything, it’s his insistence that I’m a slut that is what reduces me to tears. Ass nugget.

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