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“I could have handled him,” I say, moving to his side. I try to mean it, but Iamglad Atlas was there.
“You shouldn’t have to,” Atlas replies, putting his hands gently on my shoulders and turning me to give me a once-over.
He’s right, I shouldn’t.
“I’m fine,” I promise, even though I am a little shaken up. I never would have thought to see a side like that from calm, collected Cole, and it goes to show that you never really know people. I should have been a better judge of character, and I should have said no when he asked me out for a drink and I didn’t want to go. Next time, I will always follow my gut over social politeness. Maybe Cara is right. Maybe assuming all professionals are better than bikers is the wrong way to think.
Fuck my life.
I should have seen the red flag and run.
“Thank you for stepping in,” I say quietly, swallowing my pride.
Feeling angry at myself, I turn away from Atlas and leave.
I’m speed walking to work, where my car still is, when Atlas catches up with me, walking beside me but saying nothing. I know he’s probably thinking that I’m an idiot.
I stop and face him. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your car,” he replies, his tone curt. He’s obviously pissed at me, but he’s still being a gentleman and walking me to my car. That’s sweet. But his body language screams anything but sweet.
“Why don’t you say what you’re thinking?” I blurt out, feeling frustrated.
“You were literally just assaulted, and you want to talk about this now?” he asks, tone dark.
“Yes, yes I do!”
“Okay. I thought maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as stuck up as you appeared. Yet here you are on a fucking date with just the type of man I pictured you would be with, and what do you know? He was a piece of shit. And you were saved by me, a biker, the type of man who’s not good enough to take you out, but good enough to fuck!”
Shit.
Is that what he’s been thinking this entire time? That I think he’s not good enough for me? That I think I’m better than him?
No wonder he’s been so passive-aggressively angry at me. Knowing that and seeing the events of tonight from his perspective, I can see where he is coming from.
“I know I don’t have any right to feel jealous, but seeing you with another man set my blood on fire,” he admits, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “But I let you be, even after what happened last night. And then I see him putting his hands on you and—” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fucking angry. I should have beat the shit out of him. But I’m controlling myself, and I was trying to say nothing, so please don’t push me right now. Let me walk you to your car so I know that you’re safe—”
I grab his face and kiss him, cutting off his rant. He’s surprised at first, and so am I, but then he takes over, pulling me closer and kissing me deeply. The kiss is passionate, fueled by anger, want and need.
It’s different from last night.
Last night could have been a one-night stand; this is me admitting to us both that it wasn’t.
That it wasn’t a mistake.
Neither of us are thinking right now, we are just doing what our bodies are telling us, adrenaline pumping through my veins, anger through his.
He tastes like sin and the kiss feels so intense, but so right.
I can tell myself that we’re going to be just friends until I’m blue in the face, but I think that the truth is obvious—I like him. I have since I laid my eyes on him.
And after last night I can finally admit he’s ruined me for anyone else.
We pull away and stare into each other’s eyes, both of us breathing heavily.
I don’t know what’s happening here, but it’s happening so fast and I’m barely holding on. “It wasn’t a date. It was his birthday and he asked if we could have a drink after work. And you’re right, you and I aren’t together, and I owe you nothing. I could sleep with anyone if I wanted—”
“Natalie—”
