Bounty: Fury Riders MC (32 page)

That’s what he’s after this time, too. “I don’t understand why you won’t give me another chance. I know I messed up, but one of the things I loved most about you was your forgiving nature. You’re such a good, sweet person. How can you do this to me? What’s come over you? Is there somebody else? I won’t let anybody come in between us. All I want to do is love you and be good to you. I know we can make it work this time, but you have to be willing to give us a chance. Please, let me be the man I know I can be. I know you’ll never be sorry.”

I’ve heard this all before, and I close my eyes. I’m trying to fight off the waves of nausea threatening to overtake me.

“Actually, you know what? Fuck you, you bitch. If you won’t even answer your fucking phone, I don’t see why I bother with you anymore. You think you can just break my heart and walk away like it doesn’t matter. Are you with somebody else right now? Sleeping with some other man, you slut? When I’m here begging for you take me back, like I did something wrong? Fuck you, bitch.”

He keeps rambling on. I take the phone from my ear and see that there’s another two minutes left in the message, so I delete it without listening to the rest. I don’t know why I started it in the first place.

It’s always like this. He starts off loving and apologetic, but eventually begins spiraling. I don’t even have to be in the room for him to blame me. And he always blames me.

I remember that last night together, the last time he hit me. The time I decided enough was enough. I had made dinner, his favorite: chicken parmigiana with homemade pasta and fresh-baked bread. I had spent all day on it, pounding the cutlets, breading and frying them. Preparing the pasta dough in my food processor, rolling it out and cutting it into strips. Kneading the bread dough, letting it rise until it was time to bake off. I even made a fresh marinara sauce. All for him, all to make him happy.

But the butter was cold. When he went to butter his bread, he couldn’t spread it because it was too cold. I’d forgotten to take it out to soften before setting it out on the table.

Before I knew it, the food was on the floor and I was against the wall. “Why can’t you do anything right?” he screamed in my face, his nose inches from me. Then his palm was against my cheek, hard. A flash of light in front of my eyes. I saw stars.

That was it. I’m still not sure exactly what about that experience was enough to prove once and for all that I had to leave. Maybe the way I’d tried so hard to please him. I’d worked my ass off all day. I’d even planned a special evening afterward, complete with lingerie in the hopes of getting him interested. He’d seemed to be less interested in me. Of course, that was my fault, too, just like everything else. If only I was sexier, thinner, thicker, whatever he felt was lacking in me that day. The cold butter and his reaction was enough to finally get through to me. Things were never going to get better. When he left my apartment, leaving me to clean up everything he’d thrown around the room, I knew I had to get out. So I packed what I absolutely needed into my car and drove away.

I stare at my phone now, standing here in the middle of Jax’s living room. I can’t help thinking that, no matter how far I go, he’ll find me. But I can’t keep running away forever. It’s over an hour before Jax comes back into the house. I’m in a terrible mood now, wishing I could punch something hard. Why can’t Tommy leave me alone and let me get on with my life? Other women break up with boyfriends and are able to move on. Why can’t I? I have my shop, and my customers, and I’m a part of the town. I really feel like a part of something for the first time in my life, like I’m adding to the community. Why can’t I have this little victory for myself?

I need something to do. Jax has plenty of books, more than I would have expected from him. But no, sitting still won’t do right now. I need to be on my feet.

Before I know it, I’m back in the kitchen, not giving a shit anymore about whether or not Jax cares that I’ve taken over. It’s either busy myself cooking or rip his head off for no reason the second he comes back inside. It’s not his fault I spent so many years with a sick bastard who’s creepily obsessed with me. It’s not his fault my life is a fucking wreck.

I must be masochistic or something because I decide to make a soufflé. It’s one of the most difficult dishes to get right. The slightest hint of motion and the entire thing will fall. The effort it takes to whip the eggs is exactly what I need right now, though. I need to beat the hell out of something, even if it is just a bowl of helpless ingredients.

Just as I’m about the put it in the oven, Jax comes in—perfect timing, since if he’d come in and slammed the door while the soufflé was baking, it would have fallen. “What are you making now?” he asks, stomping the snow from his boots and pulling them off by the door.

“Soufflé,” I answer, “but I’ll wait until you’re finished. We have to be extremely quiet or else it won’t puff up.”

“Soufflé? Who randomly makes a soufflé in the middle of nowhere, on a snow day?” he asks with a laugh. When I don’t answer, he decides to dig further. “Besides, soufflé is girly. Why not make something you think I might actually want to eat?”

I slam my hands on the counter and turn to him. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself with the insults if you can’t stop being a jackass about my cooking?” He’s shocked, his eyes wide. I realize I’m snarling at him, and it’s not even really at him. Not entirely, anyway. I’m also snarling at Tommy.

“Wow,” Jax says, his voice suddenly very quiet. “I didn’t know you’d flip out on me like that. I was just kidding around.”

“I’m pretty sure I told you last night that I’m sick of your damned kidding around. You talk to me like I’m not even a human being. I don’t like being made fun of. I thought I could find some way to repay you for the nice things you’ve done for me, but I guess that’s not good enough. Maybe if you’d stop being so stupid and snide, I wouldn’t act this way!”

Even as I’m saying it, I’m telling myself this isn’t the way to go. I can’t blame him for the way I’m feeling. Yeah, he’s being an ass, but he’s not the only person I’m mad at right now. I’m also scared, which is just coming out as even more anger. I sound like Tommy, blaming Jax for my behavior. That realization only makes me angrier.

“Jesus! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you’d be so mad. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“No, you know what? I’m sick of this shit.” I’m not yelling anymore. Instead, I’m very quiet and very determined. I push past him and get my coat.

“What are you doing?” He sounds exasperated.

“I’m leaving. You dug the car out, right?”

“Yeah, but you obviously forget there’s hardly any gas in it.”

Shit. “I’m sure there’s enough to get me to a gas station.”

“If one is even open! Do you have any idea how deep the snow got? I’m sure everybody’s digging out right now.” I’m doing my best to ignore him, buttoning my coat despite his protestations.

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll walk if I have to.” I open the door, which he promptly shuts.

“Stop this. You’re being insane! You’ll freeze out there in no time. There’s no telling what the roads are like either. I don’t think that little car is your best bet right now.”

“I’ll do just fine. I’ll flag down a passing plow truck if I have to!” I push him out of my way. He’s surprised, easily thrown off balance, or else there’s no way I could have moved him.

As soon as I step out onto the porch, I regret my decision. It’s below freezing, with a wind that makes it feel even colder. But there’s no going back now, not after the scene I just made. I raise my chin resolutely, as though this doesn’t matter one bit, and walk down the stairs.

“Christina! Come back here!”

I ignore him, marching toward the driveway. Damn, it’s cold. Already, my toes are protesting, and I haven’t stepped into actual snow yet, thanks to his expert shoveling. This was a bad, bad idea. But my pride is on the line.

Moments later, I feel his hand on my arm, spinning me around. “Let go of me!” I scream, pounding on him with my fists. I might as well be pounding on granite for all the good it’s doing me. Before I know it, he bends, scooping me up over his shoulder and carrying me back to the house. I scream the entire way.

“What the hell is this? Are you serious? Put me down, damn it! You fucking jerk!” I’m still pounding on his back, my feet kicking helplessly. He doesn’t say a word, just carries me through the door and slams it shut behind us.

“Put me down!” Finally, he does as I ask, and when my feet are back on the floor, I come to the realization that he’s strong enough to do whatever he wants to my body. Instead of scaring me like it should, the thought only turns me on. Yeah, that caveman act was obnoxious as hell, but the way he overtook me? Damn. There’s something so intensely masculine about him that I can’t help but respond to.

He’s staring down at me, breathing heavily. But it’s not from exertion, I’m thinking. I think his mind is heading in the direction mine is. I feel the tension rising between us, knowing he could overpower me in an instant and almost wishing he would try.

Before I know it, he takes my head in his hands and pulls me to him roughly. His mouth covers mine and it’s like an explosion goes off between us.

I try to fight him off for a moment, out of sheer instinct. But very soon, I’m falling into the kiss. I unbutton my coat, throwing it to the floor as he does the same with his. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, melting into him. He’s strong but sensual. He’s exactly what I need right now, what I’ve needed since last night.

He picks me up, so easily it’s like I weigh nothing, and sits me on the counter. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer to me. I want him, all of him.

His hands are still under my ass, which he pulls to the edge of the counter to grind himself against me as we continue to kiss. The pressure from his already hard dick is like heaven, and I whimper into his mouth. He takes his hands from beneath me to roam up under my sweater. I moan, urging him on. I need him, everything he can give me. His calloused hands on my soft skin send shivers through my body, all directed to the center of my longing which is throbbing for him.

We’re both panting for air, grunting, gasping, wanting more and more. One of his hands slides around to my chest, squeezing one of my breasts. I cry out, wrenching my mouth from his to moan my approval. He latches on to my neck, licking his way down while his hand continues kneading and fondling me.

This isn’t right. I can’t stop the thought from bubbling up even as I’m imagining us going at it right here in the kitchen, my soufflé all but forgotten on the counter beside me. It’s hot; it’s sexy as hell. But it’s all wrong. He’s too dark, with too many issues. Controlling, brooding. I can’t have another man like Tommy in my life.

I don’t want to stop, though. I don’t want this to ever stop. I take his face in my hands and pull him back up to my waiting mouth, wanting him to push all objections out of my mind with his tongue. He kisses me passionately. I greedily take everything he can give me, only wanting more of him with every passing moment. I want all of him. Right here, right now. There’s no going back.

Just as I’m about to reach down and unbutton my jeans, my phone rings. I try to ignore it, kissing him even harder than before. But it continues to ring, ripping me out of the moment and thrusting me back to reality.

“Damn it!” I whisper, allowing my forehead to drop against his shoulder. He’s leaning on the counter, one palm on either side of me, breathing heavily. I still feel him pressed ardently against my aching pussy, the pressure through my jeans nearly painful thanks to how aroused he’s made me. Why the hell can’t whoever is calling me just wait?

I reach over to where the phone is sitting on the counter and freeze when I see who’s calling. Shit. What the hell is Tommy trying to do to me? And why of all people did he have to be the one to interrupt us?

I don’t answer, sliding the phone away from me instead. I have no intention of speaking to him, now or ever. But just the reminder is enough to make me freeze up.

“You okay?” I hear Jax whisper against my neck.

I nod my head, struggling to control my emotions.

“Sorry I got carried away,” he continues. I don’t reply verbally, choosing to shrug instead. It’s all I can do. I’m overwhelmed, being hit from all sides by conflicting sensations. The sheer pleasure Jax was bringing to me without so much as taking off a stitch of clothing, the heat between us still, the ice-cold reminder of what was waiting out there for me. Waiting for what, I didn’t know. With that came the reminder of what I’d told myself earlier: I can’t get involved with another man who’s battling demons. I can’t put myself through that again.

“I’m sorry,” I finally reply. “I got carried away, too. That shouldn’t have gone as far as it did.”

“You bring out something in me,” he admits with a chuckle, then straightens up. He rearranges my sweater, fixing me up so I’m presentable again. I feel heat rising in my cheeks. How can he be so sweet and tender one minute, then so rough and forceful the next? It’s a double-edged sword, I remind myself. Tommy is the same way.

Only he isn’t
.

Jax turns away now. “I’m gonna go watch some TV, check out the news. See how bad it really is out there. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, looking at the floor. I know if I look into his eyes right now I’ll be lost for good. I have to get my thoughts straightened out first.