who drove me crazy. He’s possessive. His raw, masculine power seems uncontainable.
I don’t think it’s a Damien I want to know.
We turn up a familiar dirt road on the other side of town, surrounded by barb wire and chain link fence. It’s the back way to the compound. In a few moments we’ll be behind the shop where the rooms the guy sin the MC live in are located.
For once, the place is completely empty. Everyone is either at the party or the meeting. Again, the stupidity of what I’d just attempted hits me. What if the meeting had been cut short and my dad walked in and saw me shaking it for that room full of 200+ rowdy men?!? I don’t even want to think about what would happen! But I’m pretty sure the peace treaty they’d been negotiating would be shot to hell about 200+ times.
Damien opens the door and starts pulling me down the dark hallway.
I stumble over a few beer cans. “You’re going too fast.”
He stops. Without letting go of my arm, he turns. Slowly. “What?”
His eyes glimmer in the darkness. Oh shit! “It’s my stripper heels.”
His eyes narrow into lethal slits.
Wait, had I just said stripper heels out loud? Fuck!
“I mean, these are so high, it’s hard to, you know, walk and stuff, because they’re so high, because they’re st —” Oh shit! Almost said it again! “…Really high shoes,” I finish lamely.
He lets go of my hand and steps forward. I rub my wrist as his chest meets my nose. “Looked to me like you were doin’ a pretty good job of gettin’ around back there.”
Okay, he’s pissed. So pissed he’s barely even making sense. I definitely shouldn’t have said stripper heels! “I wasn’t doing as good a job of moving around as I would have if I weren’t wearing these. I mean, not that I would want to do a good job, or…HEY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?”
His arms grip my flailing body as he hoists me into the air, carrying me like a princess. He takes off down the hall.
I slap his chest. “Put me down!”
“I’m not indulging one of your tantrums right now, Princess.”
Indulge? When did the asshole ever indulge me? He should totally indulge me more! Not that I cared what he did or didn’t do, because it meant nothing to me. “Put me down right now!”
“Not happenin’.”
“Then at least slow down.”
“No. That’s why I’m carryin’ you, Princess. You said you couldn’t keep up.”
Now my head’s bobbin’ up and down like that weird-ass Chevy Chase golfing bobble head my dad has in his car. When he gets to his door he kicks it open and throws me down on his bed.
Alright. I only have a few options in a situation like this. I can’t run away—he’s blocking the door. I need to just address what I did wrong and get it over with. “Damien, I’m sorry about your motorcycle.”
He says nothing.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he too mad to speak? Or…oh God…no! What if he doesn’t know about it yet?
I swallow and shut my eyes. I need to be brave. “I wrecked it. I mean…it’s gone.”
He still says nothing.
I crack my eyes open. He’s still standing there, fuming.
Shit.
“I’ll buy you a new one, alright? I’ll help you build a new one! I’ll buy it and help you build it! Okay? I’ll build it myself!”
Damien just stares at me.
Oh God. This is the calm before the super storm. I just know it! “I’m sorry! Alright? I am so, so, so sorry!”
He grits his jaw. “You think this is about some fuckin’ motorcycle?”
Did he just refer to his pride and joy as a man as ‘just some fuckin’ motorcycle’? “What the hell else would it be about?”
“You,” he whispers.
I scream. I have no choice. He’s looking at me so scary and I just know that bad things are coming.
He laughs. “There’s no one here but us, babe.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
His eyes take on a devilish light. “It has to do with everything ‘cause right now, no one can hear you scream.”
His
I don’t think it’s a Damien I want to know.
We turn up a familiar dirt road on the other side of town, surrounded by barb wire and chain link fence. It’s the back way to the compound. In a few moments we’ll be behind the shop where the rooms the guy sin the MC live in are located.
For once, the place is completely empty. Everyone is either at the party or the meeting. Again, the stupidity of what I’d just attempted hits me. What if the meeting had been cut short and my dad walked in and saw me shaking it for that room full of 200+ rowdy men?!? I don’t even want to think about what would happen! But I’m pretty sure the peace treaty they’d been negotiating would be shot to hell about 200+ times.
Damien opens the door and starts pulling me down the dark hallway.
I stumble over a few beer cans. “You’re going too fast.”
He stops. Without letting go of my arm, he turns. Slowly. “What?”
His eyes glimmer in the darkness. Oh shit! “It’s my stripper heels.”
His eyes narrow into lethal slits.
Wait, had I just said stripper heels out loud? Fuck!
“I mean, these are so high, it’s hard to, you know, walk and stuff, because they’re so high, because they’re st —” Oh shit! Almost said it again! “…Really high shoes,” I finish lamely.
He lets go of my hand and steps forward. I rub my wrist as his chest meets my nose. “Looked to me like you were doin’ a pretty good job of gettin’ around back there.”
Okay, he’s pissed. So pissed he’s barely even making sense. I definitely shouldn’t have said stripper heels! “I wasn’t doing as good a job of moving around as I would have if I weren’t wearing these. I mean, not that I would want to do a good job, or…HEY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?”
His arms grip my flailing body as he hoists me into the air, carrying me like a princess. He takes off down the hall.
I slap his chest. “Put me down!”
“I’m not indulging one of your tantrums right now, Princess.”
Indulge? When did the asshole ever indulge me? He should totally indulge me more! Not that I cared what he did or didn’t do, because it meant nothing to me. “Put me down right now!”
“Not happenin’.”
“Then at least slow down.”
“No. That’s why I’m carryin’ you, Princess. You said you couldn’t keep up.”
Now my head’s bobbin’ up and down like that weird-ass Chevy Chase golfing bobble head my dad has in his car. When he gets to his door he kicks it open and throws me down on his bed.
Alright. I only have a few options in a situation like this. I can’t run away—he’s blocking the door. I need to just address what I did wrong and get it over with. “Damien, I’m sorry about your motorcycle.”
He says nothing.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he too mad to speak? Or…oh God…no! What if he doesn’t know about it yet?
I swallow and shut my eyes. I need to be brave. “I wrecked it. I mean…it’s gone.”
He still says nothing.
I crack my eyes open. He’s still standing there, fuming.
Shit.
“I’ll buy you a new one, alright? I’ll help you build a new one! I’ll buy it and help you build it! Okay? I’ll build it myself!”
Damien just stares at me.
Oh God. This is the calm before the super storm. I just know it! “I’m sorry! Alright? I am so, so, so sorry!”
He grits his jaw. “You think this is about some fuckin’ motorcycle?”
Did he just refer to his pride and joy as a man as ‘just some fuckin’ motorcycle’? “What the hell else would it be about?”
“You,” he whispers.
I scream. I have no choice. He’s looking at me so scary and I just know that bad things are coming.
He laughs. “There’s no one here but us, babe.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
His eyes take on a devilish light. “It has to do with everything ‘cause right now, no one can hear you scream.”
His
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