It didn’t mean he wouldn’t give him a piece of his mind for what he did. For putting the tension between him and his wife. His gorgeous wife, who was smirking and pinning him with eyes that said he was in trouble. Of course, when didn’t she pin him with that sort of gaze. Life was never dull with Dee by his side.
He walked closer and drew her in his arms, pulling her in for a kiss. One that spoke of sweet promises for later. “I love you. So much. But I…I need you to stop…voicing your opinion on Newman…just…I…”
A soft hand grazed his cheek as her smirk died and a tender smile replaced it. “I love when you blush that sweet shade of red. I know I’ve been terrible lately, and not just with this Newman crap. With everything. These hormones are killing me. It’s like the craziness inside me increases a hundred times over.”
“I’m not blushing.” Which he knew was a lie. But he really needed her to stop talking about Newman, and he didn’t know how to say it. He hated being blunt, especially with her. She thrived on confrontation and chaos. He liked it nice and easygoing.
She cupped his cheeks and pulled him in for another kiss. “You are, but it’s so adorable and one of the things I love most about you. Go find your friend. I’ll tone down my aversion to him…for you.”
He chuckled and snatched one more kiss. “I love you. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I love you, too.”
He reluctantly stepped out of her arms and headed for the front door. Her whispered words made him pause.
“Be safe.”
Glancing at her, he smiled. “Always.”
As he walked out with Ben and Zeke, he couldn’t help but wonder why she said those two words. Yeah, he worked a dangerous job, dealing with criminals and violent people on occasion, the knowledge that anything could happen on any given day for any given reason. Life just happened sometimes.
But she never said those words.
Why now? What did she think would happen?
Newman wouldn’t hurt him.
Chapter 14
A warm, comforting arm pulled her closer. She didn’t resist the urge to snuggle with him, even though she knew this had been a terrible idea.
Instead of taking her home like she thought Stitch would, he brought her to his house. He had said they needed to talk. She could handle that. They did need to talk.
Except when they made it to his house, the second he unlocked the front door, he was on her. She was on him. They couldn’t control the desire and the passion that had been building since the last time they spoke.
He took her hard and fast against the front door. It had been delicious and dirty and everything she never knew she wanted—needed.
Then afterwards, after coming down from the sensual high, he swung her in his arms, something he had never done before, and felt a little like a romantic gesture coming from him, he walked her to his bedroom where he loved her one more time. Slow and sweet. A huge contrast from the way they normally had sex.
It scared her. It made the frightening emotions she had been feeling all week surface to the top, skimming, floating, just waiting for the huge wave to take her back under and sink to the bottom. Because the love she suddenly felt for Stitch would break her when he wouldn’t reciprocate.
She loved him.
The damn, aggravating man got her to fall in love and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be loved back.
His sweet, soft lovemaking from moments before made her hope and wonder whether he felt the same. Yet, she knew he probably didn’t. If he did, he wouldn’t voice it. Well, she wouldn’t voice it first either. She already put herself out there declaring her intentions, wanting commitment from him, and he broke her heart the first time.
Now he wanted to talk.
They needed to. They should’ve never slept together without talking first.
Oh, but she couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to be in his arms once again. Feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. The delicate way his hand brushed up and down her back as they lay there. His quiet breathing in a room filling with tension.
He knew they needed to talk. She could sense it in him.
Except neither said a word.
Her eyes glided across his chest and to the tattoos that covered him everywhere. Her finger started lightly tracing the outline of a skull that looked menacing and fierce. Then it trailed to an eagle, as if soaring through the bright blue sky.
She wondered what they signified. She knew they had to have some sort of meaning. He had a reason for everything he did, including the tattoos on his body. She could ask.
She could also start the conversation that might make her leave his house.
And that’s why she was afraid to voice the first word. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave his arms.
“You feel tense. I know damn well I did my job making you feel good.”
The soft rumble of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. The promise in what he didn’t say made her anticipate his hands roaming further down her body and where she always craved his touch. He did make her feel good. He could make her feel good once again.
Or she could start the conversation they needed to talk about instead of letting him distract them from it.
His hand started to drift lower down her back and caress her ass. Another ripple shifted over her body at the soft touch.
“What’s going on here, Stitch?”
There. Done. She brought it out in the open as he obviously wanted since he pointed out how tense she was. They just had amazing sex, but she was so wound up with worry that she couldn’t fully relax yet.
“We’re…doing that thing. You know.” He chuckled. “Commitment or whatever.”
A tiny giggle escaped at how ridiculous he sounded. She lifted her head to look him in the eyes.
“Commitment or whatever? You don’t think you can give me words I want to hear so I don’t kick you out of my bed, do you?”
A wily glint entered his eyes. “First, sweetheart, you’re in my bed. Second, what makes you think you’re that good I need to give you words to keep you in my bed?”
“Are you saying I’m just meh?” she asked as she cocked a brow.
The smirk on his face grew. “I would never say that.”
“Then what are you really saying?”
He sighed. “That I want you in my life.” His expression turned fierce. “You’re mine, and only mine. I don’t share. Hell, I don’t like it when men look at you.”
“Are you going to be one of those possessive, jealous types?”
“Maybe. You got a problem with that, shorty?”
Susan stared at him, weighing the question. Did she have a problem with that? She never dated a man like that. She had seen some serious cases where jealousy went too far in a relationship. Although, she didn’t think Stitch would ever physically hurt her.
“I guess this is where we should talk.” He started to shift, making her move away. He sat up and put his back to the wall, his arms almost crossing. His entire posture looked like he was saying, “Stay away.” He started to absently rub his right wrist.
She meant her original question jokingly. In a sense, she thought he answered back in the same manner. Perhaps neither of them were really joking.
“What do we need to talk about?” She joined him in a sitting position, but made sure not to touch any part of him. She couldn’t even explain to herself why she did that. Perhaps she knew she needed space as much as he did. “Do you actually want commitment? You can say the word as if you mean it, can’t you?”
“For such a tiny woman, you pack a hard ball. I can say the word.”
An eyebrow lifted. “And mean it?”
“What part of you’re mine and only mine didn’t you understand?”
The cold, menacing way he said it made a slight shiver coat her body. She had no idea why it suddenly felt like they were arguing. And about what? A simple word. Commitment. Why did she have to make a big deal about it?
“
I understand that fine. Just as you better understand I don’t share either.”
His eyes narrowed. “I would never touch another woman while I’m with you.”
She wanted to believe that. She really did. But what happened the other night popped into her head.
Girlfriend.
That woman said she was his girlfriend. He said they used to date. What was the complete story? Why did she feel threatened by this woman?
“I don’t like jealousy either. It shouldn’t be a big deal when a guy looks at me.”
“It’s never okay when a man looks at my woman in a way I don’t like.”
She could see the rage in his eyes at the thought. “And if they do…”
“I can control my temper.” He looked away. “But they’ll know not to do it ever again.”
♡
He could control his temper.
He wasn’t like his father, who loved to hit his mother at the slightest provocation. In and out of jail like a revolving door.
And his mother, beating him down with words. Making a small child feel useless and unloved.
His anger and rage at both of his parents always simmered and bubbled to the surface. But did he ever lash back? Did he ever throw a punch when his father stopped hitting his mother and moved on to him? No. The rage had always floated to the top, wanting to hit him back, but he never did. He took the beating like a man, just like his father spat at him as the punches rolled out.
Did he ever shout angry, vile words back at his mother after she stomped on his heart with cruel, evil words? No. He sat there and took it, his anger rising after each word left her mouth.
He could control his temper when it came to his parents. A cool, even composure. His temper never let loose in front of them. Of course, when he finally managed to break free to his room, his temper let out like a fierce roar of a lion. Holes in the wall. Clothes scattered around the room. If he could throw it, he broke it.
Sometimes his temper broke free outside of the house.
Fights at school with kids who couldn’t mind their own business. A bunch of bullies thinking they were better than everyone else, including him.
A punk-ass gang that thought they controlled the neighborhood, picking on people because they figured they could. His fists had something to say to make them understand that’s not how it worked in his neighborhood. He tried not to use his fists, but sometimes he needed to show he meant business.
The bastard that dared to touch Clarissa and broke her to pieces. He pummeled that asshole so hard he served his time for it.
The sad, empty truth kicked him in the gut.
His parents never scared him. It was just a way of life. He knew he’d never be able to change it, so why even try?
But everyone else? He could change that. He could show them who was boss.
He could never control his temper with everyone else because he had been scared. Fear and anger drove him.
Could he control his temper like he claimed with Susan? He wasn’t positive if that wasn’t a big fat lie. Because fear and rage swarmed his veins like a deadly virus attacking the body simply thinking of another man looking at Susan and her walking away from him as if he was nothing.
A soft hand wrapped around his fingers. Linking his fingers with hers, he squeezed her hand and raised it to his mouth, planting a tender kiss upon it.
He didn’t know how to voice his fears, his worries with her. He didn’t even know if he should.
“I think—”
“I served a year in jail for beating a man. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.” His grip on her hand tightened as he turned slowly to look at her.
Her eyes looked round with shock. He hated the expression on her face. One of distrust and a little disgust. Instead of loosening his grip, it became even tighter, not even caring that he might be hurting her. He couldn’t lose her, and what he was about to say could do that very thing.
“You mean…you’re lucky he didn’t die.”
“No. I meant what I said.”
“Why don’t you feel…why doesn’t it sound like you don’t feel…remorseful?”
“Because I don’t.” Her face twisted with confusion. He hated making her feel that way, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. “He deserved it, and much worse.”
“Why?”
He relaxed his hand, feeling shameful that he might’ve hurt her as a tiny breath escaped from her. He placed another soft kiss against the back of her hand and then rested their hands on his lap.
“Clarissa and I only dated for a few months when I was nineteen and she was eighteen. It was just sex. We both knew going into it, that’s what it was. When we decided to move on, it was no big deal. We were still friends.”
“Are you like that with all the women you date?”
He hated the way that question spilled out of her mouth. So disgusted with him.
“No. She’s the only one. I wouldn’t want to be friends with any other woman I slept with.”
“Why? She was that good in bed?”
He met her eyes. “No. Because she was my best friend’s little sister. He never knew we slept together. He probably would’ve kicked my ass if he had known. We were horny. We got it out of our system. We moved on. That was that.”
“What does this have to do with beating a man?”
“Deena doesn’t know half of this shit. We sort of drifted apart around this time. She wasn’t a huge fan of Stu, Clarissa’s brother. Thought he was a douche.”
The sweet sound of Susan’s laughter filled his heart with a tiny bit of hope. If she could still laugh right now, it had to be a good sign.
“In hindsight, we were a bad influence on each other. We did shit we probably shouldn’t have done.” He blew out a breath that didn’t help. He wanted to run hard and fast and away from this conversation. “He was shot and killed by a local gang that thought we stole some drugs from them.”
Susan’s grip tightened as she inhaled sharply. “Did you?”
He turned to meet her stare. “I didn’t, no. But I think Stu did. I’m no saint. I’ll never be one. I did some drugs when I was younger. Stu was always…a little more different than me. He wanted something, he took it.”
“Did they think you had something to do with it, too?”
He shrugged. “No clue. They kicked my ass until I almost couldn’t breathe. A warning to stay away from them that I understood loud and clear. Clarissa took her brother’s death hard. I did, too. But I had to be the strong one. I had to keep her together. He never told me to look out for his sister, but it was something I knew I had to do. The more I tried to help her, the more she shoved me away. She hooked up with this asshole that had no respect for her. He beat her so badly one day she was in the hospital for a week.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She lost her baby.”
Susan’s sweet, delectable body slid closer. “I’m so sorry, Stitch.”
“It wasn’t mine or anything,” he said with a shrug, “but losing that baby broke her even more. She lost her brother, and then she lost a piece of herself. The cops arrested him, but he was out within a day. He thought his shit didn’t stink. So I taught him a lesson about what happens when he touched a woman like that. I made sure I beat the importance into him what would happen if he ever did it again. I served my time…and I’d do it all over again.”
He took solace in the fact her grip was still tight and her body close to his, almost wrapping around him. “That’s the kind of man I am. Can I control my temper? Yeah…for the most part. Sometimes shit needs to be done. Can you handle that? Because if you can’t, then I guess we’re done.”
“Can I handle you beating a man? Is that what you’re asking? I work for the police department. I believe in the law. That’s not a fair question.”
“And yet, I’m asking. I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not. Clarissa is still a part of my life, even if she is a pain in my ass. She’s my best friend’s little sister, and I can’t turn my back on
her. You’ll have to deal with that, too.”
“Gee, you’re making it all so easy on me. That’s so sweet of you.”
“I don’t need your damn sarcasm.”
Her face morphed into anger. “You’re being an asshole and you know it. Do you want to be with me? Or is this your way of pushing me away? What are you scared of?”
Good question. One he didn’t want to answer, or even analyze.
“Look, shorty—”
He scowled as an upbeat ring tore through the tension-filled room. He didn’t stop her as she pulled her fingers out of his grip and left the bed to get her phone. Her face filled with horror as she listened to the person on the other end, then ended the phone call with a few brisk words he hated to hear.
Part of him was pissed. The other part was relieved.
“So, you’re just going to leave? Where in the hell does that leave us?” He couldn’t stop the harsh way he spoke.
“It’s work. I have to go.”
“Yeah, sure. Go.”
“When you’re done being an asshole, let me know.”
She dressed quickly in silence.
Would he ever stop being an asshole? Probably not. He wouldn’t change for anybody.
Well, maybe he could.
If he stopped letting his fear take control.
“Please take me home, Stitch.”
He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to get as far away from him as she could. But she had no vehicle here. She needed him.
And he needed her.
If he only had the nerve to tell her how much he truly needed her in his life.
“This conversation ain’t over, Suzey baby.”
She leveled him with a piercing stare. “It is for now.” Then she walked out of his room.
Chapter 15
Susan prepared herself. She tried to clear her mind and put herself into work mode. Something she usually never failed at.
Today, she felt like she was failing at everything. Why couldn’t the day end already? How much more could she take?
One Taste of Sin (A One Taste Novel Book 4) Page 14
