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I’m not my mother’s daughter without having learned a thing or two about defense and combat. Instead of allowing her to just come for me, I reach out, using my palm to slam against the side of her face and push her down as hard as I can.
She falls straight to the floor, but not before she grasps my shirt and brings me down with her. With me on top, my thighs squeezing her hips, I do not hold back. I hit. And I feel stupid with each swing because I know she’s fighting over a man, but that’s not what I’m fighting for.
I’m fighting her because she’s a bitch, and I’m not going to have her come at me. I’m not going to just lie down and take whatever she dishes me. I don’t even know her, and she sure as shit doesn’t know me.
I am sick to death of people assuming I’m something I’m not.
Sick of it.
So, I take all my pent-up anger and aggression out on her.
She asked for it, anyway.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
SHAWN
Strong arms wrap around my waist and pick me up off the floor. I don’t stop swinging until I’m swinging at nothing but air. Then I feel lips against my ear and hear whispered words that I know are meant to be calming. And they are, but nothing about me feels calm in this moment.
“You need to relax, sweetness,” Elvis murmurs, shaking me slightly as he moves through the room.
I don’t know why, but I expect him to go back to the bedroom, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits down and arranges me on his lap. My heart is still racing, I can’t really hear much, and my vision is still blurry from all the adrenaline, so I’m not sure exactly where I am.
Then, as I inhale and exhale slowly, the world around me comes back. That’s when I realize that I’m sitting on Elvis’s lap, on a sofa that is against the wall. I expect everyone to be staring at me in horror, but as I scan the room, they aren’t. In fact, they are all doing their own thing, as if I’m not even here. As if that girl fight didn’t even happen.
Then I feel Elvis’s fingers curl around the back of my neck, and he guides my attention to him. My eyes find his blue ones, and I’m not sure what kind of expression I expect him to be wearing, but it isn’t one where he’s smiling.
“You fucked her up. She’s going to have bruises. What the fuck happened?” he asks, and he looks like he’s trying to keep from busting up laughing and completely losing his shit. His shoulders are even shaking as he tries to hold it all in.
“She wanted to fight. She had her claws drawn, threw my glass at me, and didn’t like it when I threw her to the ground. I’m not going to start anything, but I’m not going to let her just come at me, either. I don’t even know her,” I explain.
He sobers slightly, his expression less playful as he shifts to answer. “She what?” he asks.
“I told her I was an old lady, and she didn’t like it. She came at me.”
“Fuck that,” he barks as he begins to stand. Reaching for his shoulders, I squeeze and call out his name. He stops midstand, his gaze flicking to meet mine. “What?”
Sliding my tongue along my bottom lip, I look into his eyes. “Let’s just let it go. She didn’t hurt me, and I have a feeling she’ll think twice before she tries anything like that with anyone else, let alone me.”
He frowns, then clears his throat, but I continue. “I don’t want to cause any more scenes. I think that one was enough for my entire life.”
His fingers are still curled around the back of my neck, and he guides me forward so that my lips touch his. Bravely, I slip my tongue from my mouth and taste his bottom lip. He moans as soon as I do, then he jerks back slightly, his eyes finding mine.
“Make it worth my while not to make an example of her right here and now,” he grinds out.
I hold my breath for a moment, my eyes widening as I watch him. Slowly, his lips curve up into a smirk as he stares at me. He doesn’t say how he wants me to make anything worth it, but I can only imagine it has to do with sex… and he doesn’t mean we go back to his room and do it either.
“Elvis,” I exhale.
He hums, then pulls me against him again, my mouth touching his. He doesn’t deepen the kiss. His lips stay firmly against mine. Then he speaks, and my entire body stiffens as he does.
“Show these bitches who you belong to, sweetness.”
I know this is about more than us making some kind of declaration to one another. This is about his people, how they show ownership, and this is ownership, not just of him, but of me, too. This is so archaic, so misogynistic, completely insane.
So why is it that I have to clench my thighs together at the thought of being with him in this room? It’s not like anyone would even notice. They’re all doing it, too. I saw much more of some of these people in the five minutes I’ve been in here than I ever imagined seeing. But my pussy clenches and pulses.
