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Maybe I just needed to get laid. That could be the problem. Fact of the matter was, the clubwhores didn't, and never did, do it for me. It wasn't that I necessarily got off on the chase, but I didn't exactly want pussy thrown in my face either. And I certainly wasn't thrilled at the idea of being the third cock in someone's hole on any given night. No thanks.
So if I didn't get out and hit the town, I didn't get any. And, quite frankly, I'd been pretty fucking busy lately with working on the cars, club business, and keeping an eye on the probates. It had probably been the better part of a month. Which, by normal standards, wasn't bad. But for me, it was probably a record. I wasn't a slut, but I enjoyed my fair share. I was young and single. No one could blame me for enjoying the company of women.
I closed my bedroom door, leaning against it in the hall, deciding that as soon as she was out of my bed, I was bringing someone else into it.
That would definitely help the attraction to Maze thing.
I hoped.SixMazeI woke up the next morning fever-free and mortified.
Mortified.
Because there was no blissful blanket over my brain shielding me from the reality of what had happened over the twenty-four hours that I was burning up. Oh, no. It was all bright, vivid, sharp. Obnoxiously so. First, he'd carried me to his bed. That wasn't so bad. He'd removed my boots and tucked me in then went in search of medicine. When he came back and tried to get it in me, however, I screamed and flailed. I was pretty sure I whacked him across the face during the second dose of medicine. By the third dose, I was mostly conscious. He'd undressed me and bathed me. Then I, good lord, snuggled him.
He left after getting me back into bed and I slept. He came back sometime later, kicking out of his shoes and getting into the empty side of the bed. I woke up from a bad dream, of which I generally had very few if any, rolling to face him to find him watching me aptly with his tired-looking blue eyes. "Don't let them get me," I begged in a quiet voice, knowing my eyes were pleading.
His head had tilted, his brows drew together slightly. His mouth opened, then closed, like he thought better of what he was going to say. He slumped down further into the bed and rolled on his side to face me, draping a strong arm over my hips and hauling me against him.
"I won't," he said, the words almost sounding like a promise, like a vow.
"Good," I said, moving closer and resting my forehead against his chest and falling back to sleep.
So, yeah.
I'd snuggled him.
Twice.
I sat off the side of the bed in what I assumed was one of his tees, and nothing else, cradling my head in my hands and trying to figure out how the fuck to get out of such a messed up situation. True, I could blame the fever. People did weird stuff when they were delirious. I was no exception. In fact, my grandmother used to say she dreaded when I got sick because I always tended to run way too hot and then hallucinate and act weird until it broke. It wasn't unusual for me to be not like myself when I was sick. I could easily blame the sickness.
But, fact of the matter was, I knew better.
Usually, I hallucinated about being chased or trapped in small rooms.
I didn't randomly snuggle my grandmother or the doctors who would treat me.
Oh, no.
That was all me. Well, me and my libido.
There was really no denying it anymore, it wasn't just that Repo was hot and had that bad boy thing going for him. It wasn't even as simple as having the hots for your unattainable boss or authority figure.
Because when his hands touched me as he took off my clothes, it wasn't surprise that made me gasp. It was desire. The chaste, two-second contact sent off a shock through my system, culminating in a strong clenching between my thighs. Then when I was nightmare-scared and only half awake and he vowed to not let them get me, well, I felt a strange fluttering feeling in my belly.
K was going to have my head.
"Shit," I said, straightening.
K.
If I lost an entire day, that meant I missed check-in.
You did not, ever, miss check-in.
You missed check-in and K started to worry.
If K worried enough, he'd drag his ass down to Jersey and come looking for me.
And that, well, it would not be good.
I jumped out of Repo's bed, finding my boots and slipping into them, then running, literally running back toward the basement. The longer I let pass, the more shit I would be in for. It was early morning and Duke's bunk was empty so I figured he was on patrol. I rummaged through my bag and found the burner, turning it on. I threw on jeans then made my way back upstairs, taking in the quiet compound with a sense of relief as I went into the kitchen and typed in his number. This time, to his cell. It was too early to call the boxing emporium like I was supposed to.
