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“Squealer would rip the hell out of me,” he rolls his eyes.
“It’s behind your ear, I doubt Squealer will even notice. I put my lucky bead in it.” I bite my lip, because I’ve learned quickly that he likes it when I do that, and pull the end of the braid between us to show him.
“Your lucky bead, huh?” he smiles, clearly knowing exactly what I’m doing.
“If I keep it in, will you promise to stay beside Storm all night, and not give him any trouble?” He narrows his eyes at me.
“I give you my word.” I feel the victorious grin pulling at my cheeks before he attacks my lips again, and when his manhood presses between my legs, it stirs up that needy feeling inside me again.
“Sorry.” He takes his weight off me, but I quickly take his hips in my hands and force them back onto me.
“I like how it feels,” I admit, knowing that I don’t have to keep my feelings secret from him.
“We should hit the sack, I have to be up early in the morning.” He gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen to get himself some water.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, following behind him.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he shakes his head, but I can tell he’s not being honest with me. “Let's just go to bed, okay, darlin’.” He presses a kiss on my forehead before taking my hand and leading us into the bedroom.
I’ve stayed here with him every night this week, I don’t even ask Dyanni to cover for me anymore. My uncle has bigger things to worry about than my whereabouts.
I slide out of my jeans and when I pull my top over my head, Troj immediately throws his T-shirt at me.
“What's this?” I laugh at him. When we sleep together we always sleep naked. I like the feeling of his skin on mine, it seems to keep the nightmares of masked men away.
“Just put it on, Shan,” he says, getting under the covers without taking his sweatpants off. I stand and stare at him, completely confused. He’s putting barriers between us and I don’t like it.
“You getting in?” he asks.
“Not until you tell me what's wrong. I’ve done something to upset you, and I don’t understand what it is.”
“You ain’t done anything, just get in the damn bed.” He yanks open the sheets for me but I stand firm, glaring at him for an explanation.
“I just…” he scrubs his face and huffs out a frustrated breath.
“Tell me,” I beg.
“You asked me what I usually do before a fight,” he starts awkwardly, refusing to make contact as he sits up and rests his elbow on his knee. “Well. There’s something else I do before a fight.” His hand drags through his hair.
“You give yourself to a woman,” I finish the sentence for him, trying not to be hurt by it.
“Don’t say it like that ‘cause that’s not how it is.” He sounds frustrated.
“Sorry, I mean, you fuck,” I correct myself.
“Don’t say it like that either.” He’s getting madder, and I push the idea of him being with another girl to the back of my mind.
“Most fighters don’t do it before a fight, they say you shouldn’t anyway. Let’s just get some fuckin’ sleep.”
“But I want to help you.” I sit beside him.
“You are helping me,” he whispers back at me, seeming a little calmer.
“No, I mean I want to help you with… that,” I lower my eyes. The sheets are covering his sweats but I know he’ll be hard. He always is when we go to bed together.
“Shan, it’s fine.” His hand slides over my jaw and he pulls me onto his mouth. “I’ll be fine,” he assures me.
I ignore him, slipping my hand under the sheet, and then under the waistband of his sweats.
