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Especially if he’s used to being with women like the ones I’ve just seen. How can what I’ve got to offer him be enough? I have no experience like these women.
I should run away from all this, but I can't. I’ve never felt more alive than I do when I’m around Troj. I’m even starting to like all his friends. There is no judgment here, people can be whoever they want to be and it’s freeing.
The pull that tugs me and Troj together is far too strong to defy.
I use the bathroom and quickly head back out to where Troj is waiting for me by the grill, only now he’s standing on the other side of it.
“You okay?” he checks.
“I’m fine, I just think maybe it’s time I go home. It’s late and my uncle might worry.”
“I thought you had someone covering for you?”
“How many women have you been with?” The words just blurt from my mouth, and I regret them immediately.
Troj places his beer down and rapidly drags me behind the club house, away from all the noise.
“Why does that matter?” he asks, resting his hand on the wall behind my head.
“You say that you can wait for me, that you want to respect my culture, but men have needs, Troj. Are we being realistic with all this?”
He takes a long breath, one that I prepare to be followed with words that will hurt me.
“Shan, I want you, and I ain’t gonna pretend that I don't find it hard.” He tenses his jaw and closes his eyes for a second.
“We could, you know. If that's what you need,'' I say, wondering how it would feel to have him touch me the way Squealer had the girl upstairs.
There's a throbbing between my legs that I wish would just ease up, at least while we’re having this conversation.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I wanna do this right. I wanna be your first and your last, Shan.” He brushes my hair behind my ear and holds my cheek in his palm. “I’ve wanted you for three years, a little more time ain’t going to hurt.”
“I don't want you to be with anyone else while you're waiting.” Again my mouth rules over my head, and I feel a little embarrassed when Troj laughs.
“Don’t laugh at me, it’s cruel.” I push my hand into his solid chest but he doesn’t budge.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he shakes his head at me. “You had my fucking heart before I even knew your name. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. The fight’s in two weeks, and once that’s done, all my focus is going into whatever it takes to make that happen. I want your people to be happy for us.”
“You make it all sound so simple, but we’re different people, Troj. What makes you so convinced this is gonna work?”
“Because I won’t let it fail,” he tells me, his lips touching mine, making me automatically open my mouth to allow his tongue access. The weight of his body crushes into mine, forcing me into the clubhouse wall, and I feel him hard through his denim.
My stomach tightens for more, and I can’t understand how something so torturous can feel so good.
“Touch me,” I whisper against his lips but he pulls back, looking at me with shock.
“Shan.”
“Please Troj, just a little. I want your hands on me,” I beg, looking down at where his hand is resting on my hip. It would be so easy for him to slide it lower and under my dress, his touch will make the ache go away, I know it will.
There's a vibration between us, one that continuously hums, and shoots a thrill through my belly.
“I need to get that,” he tells me, stepping back and putting more space between us.
He reads his phone and pushes his hair back from his face when it flops forward. “I should take you home.” I try to hide the disappointment from my face, nodding my head, and tensing my cheeks to stop any tears from falling. Rejection from Troj feels worse than the time I fell into a hawthorn bush and the tiny prickles shredded my skin.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me over to his bike, and I sit behind him as he starts the engine, driving us up to the border.
“You want me to walk you down?” he asks.
