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Truth is, the bitch is in my head. It's been almost a week since I let myself into her home, fucked her, and then left. Since then, I haven’t heard from her. I haven’t even seen her, and I’ve been going into town way more often than I need to. She’s stopped popping up everywhere inconveniently, and it fucking bothers me.
I miss the buzz I get from the frustration she puts inside me. The way her eyes flare when she’s irritated, and I want to see if those marks I left on her skin are still there. I wonder if she thinks of me every time she dresses in the morning when she tries to cover them up.
“I’m going to bed.” I down the drink and swipe the back of my hand over my mouth before heading into my room. Flicking on the lamp beside my bed, I throw my clothes at the chair in the corner of my room, and I’m still fucking thinking about her.
It feels like she’s planted in my head, taking over all my rational feelings. I even fucked her without wearing a rubber. I’ve never done that shit with anyone; you can’t trust the bitches around here to be reliable. Plenty have tried catching a brother out to get themselves old lady status. But Alex is too put together for crap like that. She’s driven, and smart, and hell did it feel fucking incredible to be inside her without a barrier between us.
So good that I’ve been thinking about doing it over and over again ever since.
I get myself into bed and cover myself with the blanket, turning out the light and staring into the darkness, trying all I can to blank her from my head so I can get some sleep.
“How’s that book club thingy going?” I corner Shaniya when she steps out of her and Troj’s cabin. I’m never up early enough to see her leave for her job at the town’s library. But I’m fed up with staring at the ceiling in my room and trying to turn off the thoughts in my head.
I’m up, and I’m doing something productive.
The light on our front porch hasn’t worked for years. Stumbling in the dark to find your keys when you’re wasted is getting real fuckin’ old, so I figured fixing it would be a good distraction from the cop’s pussy and handcuffs.
“It’s going well, do you want to sign up?” she asks, trying to be funny as Troj follows her out the door, shrugging his cut over his shoulders and heading toward his bike.
“You shit the bed, Squeal?” he looks shocked to see me.
“Whatcha mean?”
“There’s got to be some reason for you being up this early.”
“He was asking about book club,” Shaniya rats me out. I’m gonna have to really play this one down.
“It’s called being polite, Mrs. Troj.”
“Okay, seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Troj looks genuinely concerned.
“I’m just trying to be friendly. You guys are always saying I need to stop making the girls feel uncomfortable. Forgive me for making the effort,” I hop down from the chair I’m balancing on and leave the light fixture hanging to storm back inside the cabin and grab my keys.
“Where you going?” Screw asks, stepping out of his room and reaching his hand into the front of his boxers to scratch his balls.
“Light outside needs a new fuse.”
“That thing's been broke years,” he yawns.
“Yeah, and today's the day I'm gonna fix it. You got a problem with that?” I snap. Jesus, I’m turning into a fucking hormonal pussy these days.
“Whatever.” Screw still looks half asleep as he heads into the bathroom, and I leave him to it, moving out and firing up my bike.
I pull up at the general store and watch from the opposite side of the street as Shaniya hops off the back of Troj’s bike. He kisses her goodbye then watches her practically skip through the library doors, with a dopey assed smile on his face before he pulls away.
I wonder what it’s like being tied to just one woman. To be committed like that.
I like all the old ladies at the club; I see the appeal in each and every one of them. But I can’t imagine keeping myself exclusive to one.
It's not just that, I see the hassle it causes my brothers, all the worry they go through. Hell, Nyx is practically going through a nervous breakdown right now with Ella. Why would anyone wanna put that on themselves?
Nah, I don’t care how happy they all look; I know I got things right. Life is much easier being single. Bitches bring far too much drama, and I’m all about that easy life.
My feet come to a stop when I see his bike parked outside the store. It’s been seven days—not that I’m counting—since I last saw him, and it kills me to admit it, but I kind of miss him.
At least the way he aggravates me, distracts me from the constant ache to bring Hawker to justice.
Before I can talk myself into changing my direction and heading back to the station, I pull back my shoulders and march onward. This is a small town, people run into each other all the time, and I can’t keep avoiding him.
