Taming the Storm

by Samantha Towle

  I slide my arms in, pulling it on, and then zip it up. It’s huge and smells of Tom.

  His scent is filling my lungs, choking my insides.

  I look up to see him zipping up his jacket. He looks illegally hot in it.

  Tugging at the big jacket, I grumble, “I bet I look stupid.”

  He grins. “Nah, you look cute. Anyway, I like to see you in my clothes.”

  He can say the sweetest things at times. Things that make me think maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe there’s more for us.

  I smile at him. And his eyes harden again, and my hope fades.

  He hands me a helmet. “Put this on.”

  Doing as I’m told, I pull it on over my head. I’m struggling with fastening the strap, so Tom takes over.

  “All set.” He gives me a gentle smile before pulling my visor down.

  He pulls on his own helmet and fastens it with ease. Then, he climbs on the bike.

  Kicking off the stand, he keeps his feet flat on the floor and pats the space behind him.

  Hand on his arm, I put my foot on the rest and hoist myself on, swinging my leg over. I set my other foot on the rest and place my hands on Tom’s waist. He grabs my hands and pulls them around to his front, bringing me right up against him.

  My breathing hitches.

  He turns on the engine. The vibrations run through my body, highlighting every lusty feeling I’m having right now from being this close to him.

  He takes out a tiny remote from his pocket and opens the garage door.

  Slowly, he drives us out of the garage, maneuvering around the house. When he hits the gravel driveway, he starts to pick up speed.

  My thighs grip him tighter, my fingers digging into his leather jacket.

  He removes one hand from the handlebar and gives my thigh a squeeze. “Relax,” he says over the roar of the engine “You’re safe with me.”

  Knowing Tom would never let anything happen to me, I let myself relax a little.

  He slows as we approach the gate. It opens automatically. Tom drives through.

  He gives the road a quick check, and then turning left, he hits tarmac and quickly picks up speed.

  I let out a little squeal, squeezing my eyes shut, as I tighten my grip on him again.

  I feel his laughter beneath my hands, rumbling through his chest.

  After a while, I open my eyes, figuring I should just try to relax and enjoy the ride.

  Enjoy just being close to Tom for this last time.

  All too soon, we’re in Silver Lake and pulling up outside my building where I share an apartment with the guys, courtesy of TMS Records.

  Tom kicks out the stand and pulls off his helmet. He hangs it on the handlebar. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing it up.

  My heart feels as heavy as bricks.

  I hold on to him as I swing my leg over. Feet hitting concrete, I take a minute to steady my wobbly legs. As much as I loved being close to Tom and a huge part of me didn’t want to let go, it is nice to be on safe ground again.

  Removing the helmet, I shake my hair out. “Thanks for the ride.” I hold the helmet out for him to take.

  “Keep it,” he says, pushing it back to me. “I can’t ride home with it. Keep the jacket, too. Not that you’ll have any use for them, but they’re yours.”

  He’s rejecting me.

  He would rather have me keep his things than have to chance seeing me again.

  Just say fine and walk away.

  But I can’t seem to stop my big stupid mouth from saying, “I could bring them to the studio for you.” And now I sound desperate.

  Fabulous.

  He stares straight ahead. “No, it’s fine. Keep them.”

  He can’t even bring himself to look at me. “Okay.” I take a small step back. “Thanks…I guess.”

  Keep moving, Ly. Say good-bye and get your ass into your building.

  I’m trying—really, I am—but the ache of his rejection is stinging like a mother, and I can’t seem to move.

  “So, yeah, um…thanks for the ride.”

  You said that already. Just leave pride intact. Come on, look at him. He can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s itching to leave.

  Then, it hits me. This is it. I leave Tom now, and I don’t know when I’ll see him again, if ever.

  We don’t exactly run in the same circles. The only possibility of me seeing Tom would be at the studio, but if he really doesn’t want to see me, then it wouldn’t be hard for him to avoid me.

  I don’t want to lose him.

  The realization strikes me like a blinding, sickening panic.

  I can’t envisage a day where I don’t get to see him or speak to him, and the thought of never being close to him again…never being able to touch him or have him touch me…

  Jesus…

  I rub my hand against my chest, the thought physically hurting me.

  I lift my eyes to him, and find his beautiful greens staring back at me.

  Oh God.

  I’m in love with him.

  I’m in love with Tom.

  “Lyla…”

  He pushes a hand through his hair and lets out a heavy breath, completely unaware of the fear peddling through my mind and body right now.

  “Um…shit, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never done this before.”

  He gives me a rueful smile, and it tugs on my heart. The one I now apparently want to hand over to him.

  “I know in the beginning, we agreed that it, us, would end here at the end of the tour, but…well, I didn’t get around to fulfilling all those orgasms you’re owed…and I was thinking…” He shifts his position, looking uncomfortable.

  I’m hanging on his every word, waiting, desperate to see where he’s going with this.

  He rubs a hand over the stubble on his chin. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t want to lose you from my life completely, and I can’t ever imagine us just being friends.”

  He gives me a soft, sexy smile that seeps into my chest and curls around my heart.

  “So, I’d still like to see you…”

  He wants to see me again. He wants me like I want him.

  My heart lights up.

  “A few times a week to, you know, hook up. So, what do you think?”

  And my heart dims.

  He wants us to keep being fuck buddies.

  He doesn’t want me. He just wants to screw me a couple of times a week.

  My heart drops to my stomach, free-falling, taking the rest of my insides with it.

  I feel so stupid. Heat is prickling my face. My throat is thickening while tears are threatening my eyes.

  “You want us to continue being fuck buddies?” I can’t hide the edge or emotion in my voice.

  His eyes meet mine, a wariness in them. “Yes.”

  “Right.” I step back.

  “Was that the wrong suggestion?” He scratches his cheek. “Because you don’t look so happy with the idea.”

  The wrong suggestion? Not happy with the idea? You could say that.

  And I do. “No, I’m not happy with the idea.”

  “Right…” His fingers lift to his forehead, and he presses them against his skin. A second later, he drops his hand, and his gaze hits mine. “So, what’s changed?”

  I frown at him. “What do you mean, what’s changed?” My voice is rising.

  And he’s getting annoyed.

  I can see from the telltale line between his brow and the darkening of his eyes.

  “I mean, you were happy to be my fuck buddy for the tour and up to last night, but now, suddenly, you’re not. So, I’m wondering, what’s changed between you climbing out of my bed this morning to now?”

  “About sixty seconds ago, I realized I’m in love with you. That’s what’s changed.”

  And there it is. My absolute fucking inability to filter anything that comes out of my mouth.

  I watch his face reverberate with shock. That shock quickly transforms to absolu
te horror.

  My hope for anything beyond sex with Tom burns away into ashes and blows away in the gentle breeze.

  He shakes his head. “You don’t love me.”

  My eyes fill with tears. I can’t stop them any more than I can stop the fact that I love him.

  Pride hurting like a bitch, I bite out, “So, you’re telling me what I feel now? I thought your commands stayed in the bedroom.”

  His eyes snap up to mine. He’s angry, the angriest I have ever seen him.

  “You have no fucking right telling me you love me!” he roars.

  His voice is so harsh that it startles me, forcing me back a step.

  “We were just fucking! Fuck buddies. Nothing more. You agreed. Love was never supposed to come into it.” He drags his hands through his hair.

  His features are tight. My heart is breaking.

  “I-I…this wasn’t something I planned on.” My voice is small. “I didn’t mean to…fall…” I grip the helmet tight to my chest like it’s a life raft. I desperately need something to cling on to.

  Tom lets out a careless laugh that strikes me like a hand across the face.

  “What did you think was gonna happen when you told me you love me? Did you think I’d tell you I felt the same? That we’d ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? I’m not that guy, and you fucking know it. I don’t do love. Never have, and I’m not about to start now. I am interested though—at what point did I give you the impression that I might?” His voice is getting harsher with each passing word. “Was it when I was fucking you up the ass? Or maybe when I fucked you under that stage? Or was it when I had you down on your knees while I fucked your mouth—”

  “Stop it,” I gasp, each of his words feeling like a blow to the chest.

  It’s painful enough to know he doesn’t feel the same about me. But to know the thought of me loving him makes him this angry…hurts beyond words.

  Tears are running down my face. I press the leather sleeve against my cheek, trying to dry them, but all that happens is I get a lungful of Tom. It ignites my pain further.

  “You never gave me any indication that you felt the same,” I whisper, my voice broken. “It was all me. My mistake.”

  I turn to leave, but Tom grabs my arm, keeping me there. He’s clearly not done with inflicting his rage on me.

  “This whole thing was a mistake.” He runs his free hand through his hair, tugging on the strands. “Fuck! I never should have started this with you.”

  A mistake. If he’d hit me, it would have hurt less.

  “Get off me!” I cry, trying to pull my arm free.

  Having Tom touch me right now is like pouring salt in my bleeding wound.

  But he doesn’t let go. It’s like he doesn’t even feel me right now.

  “I never should have let this happen.” His eyes are on the pavement, his head shaking. It’s almost as if he’s not even talking to me in this moment. “I should have known this would happen…especially with a girl like you.”

  A girl like me.

  If I needed anything to bring me back, it was that.

  I force strength into my weak body. There might still be tears on my face, but I make sure my expression is one of total anger.

  “You’ve made your point.” I hold my voice steady. “I get it. You don’t care about me. I’m hearing that loud and clear. Now, let me go.”

  I see what I think is a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Or maybe it’s that stupid shred of hope I’m desperately holding on to that sees it. The hope that’s willing him to tell me he doesn’t mean any of this. That he feels the same for me as I do for him.

  He drops my arm, his eyes scarily hard. “The sooner I’m out of here, the fucking better.” He pulls his helmet off the handlebar. “You and me, we end here. Are we clear?”

  And that hope gets trampled under his words.

  I armor myself against him. “Crystal. Don’t worry. After today, you won’t ever have to see me again.” I start to walk away.

  But I’m not done. Not just yet.

  I turn and stare at Tom, not recognizing the person before me. The Tom I got to know these past six weeks never would have been this cruel or hurt me this badly. The Tom I spent time with, falling in love with…

  Or maybe that’s just it—I never really knew Tom at all.

  And that possibility hurts more than everything else.

  Curling my fingers into my palm, I take a deep breath. “I wish you’d never stepped foot on that tour bus. I wish I’d never let you anywhere near me—let alone, in my heart.” A tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away. “You never deserved any part of me that I gave to you. You’re a mut of the worst kind, Tom Carter.”

  His eyes lift to mine. I see what I think is a trace of hurt in them, but it’s gone so quick that I could have imagined it.

  “That’s exactly what I am. It’s good you finally remembered. Now, you can take your declaration of love and tell it to someone who wants it.”

  I suck in a painful breath.

  My soul and whatever was left of my heart shatters to pieces.

  He lifts his helmet to his head but pauses. His eyes move to mine, his gaze pinning me there.

  My heart might be breaking, but I can’t look away from Tom. I never have been able to. Once he catches me with his eyes, I’m bound to him.

  I don’t know what he sees on my face or what happens in this moment, but true pain fills his eyes and an agonized breath escapes him.

  “You deserve better,” he says, low and rough. “You deserve better than me.”

  His helmet is on, his motorcycle roars to life, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the thick of the LA traffic.

  And I’m left standing here. The only things to show my time with Tom are his words echoing in my mind, my shredded heart, and the tears staining my cheeks.

  An Hour Later—A Bar, Downtown LA

  Lyla loves me.

  She can’t love me. She can’t because…well, because I’m Tom Carter. I don’t do love.

  I can’t love her. I can’t love anyone.

  Never have, and I’m not about to start now for a tight pussy and awesome rack…and a beautiful smile.

  Sure, I care about Lyla, but love…it never factored in.

  Lyla’s a good girl who’s been dealt some shit hands in life. If she were with me, all I would do is continue to hurt her because that’s the kind of man I am.

  She deserves better than me. She’s deserves a man who can—

  A wave of anger has my jaw clenching, and my hand tightening around the glass of Jack at the thought of Lyla with another man.

  I take a hard drink of the whiskey, trying to settle the rattled emotions inside me.

  This is ridiculous. I don’t get jealous. I’m not that guy. I’m the one who doesn’t give a shit. The guy who fucks a woman and walks away, clean.

  I don’t care. Ever.

  And I need to stop caring about Lyla and who or what she does. Right fucking now.

  It has to stop.

  I need to get my life back on track.

  This sleeping with only one woman has messed with my head. I just need to bang some chick, and I’ll be back to normal. And that normal needs to start now.

  I let my eyes drift across the bar to the brunette who’s been staring at me since I arrived.

  My eyes meet hers, and I see the look instantly.

  She wants to fuck.

  Perfect.

  I let my eyes give her the once-over. Checking her out like I should have done the moment I arrived here.

  I don’t usually lapse like this. I’ve been doing too much lapsing as of late, and that’s the problem.

  This will get me back on track.

  The brunette is tall, curvy. Definite hips and ass. Small tits, but I can live with it. I’m not looking to marry this chick. Just bang the hell out of her.

  Sure, she’s no Lyla, but that’s the point.

  Being with a blonde right now would be way
too close. I need to be as far away as possible from anything remotely resembling Lyla.

  The point of this is to get my mind off Lyla and my cock buried in someone else. And this brunette chick, who is clearly up for it and is the complete opposite of Lyla in every way, is perfect for what I need right now.

  Tossing my drink back, I climb off my stool and make my way over to the brunette.

  Fifteen Minutes Later—A Restroom Stall, A Bar, Downtown LA

  “Fuck yeah. That’s it, sugar. Get down on your knees, and suck my cock.” I close my eyes to the feel of—shit, what’s her name? Macy, Lacy? Seriously, who gives a fuck as long as she gets me off?

  I just need to get her mouth around my cock. Then, I’ll be back to the old me, and Lyla will get the fuck out of my head.

  The image of Lyla standing on the sidewalk, telling me she’s in love with me is stuck in my brain.

  The things I said to her. She was crying.

  Fuck.

  I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just panicked. She’ll never forgive me after what I said.

  Whatever. Like it matters. I don’t need her to forgive me. Because Lyla and me are done.

  I just did what needed to be done. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Hurting her now and ending it saves any unpleasant shit in the future.

  I might feel bad now, but the second this chick sucks on my cock, it will all just disappear.

  Music suddenly comes on loud in the bar. Someone must have fed the jukebox. The heavy guitar line of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day starts to hum through the wall.

  I feel a tightening in my chest. An ache…like my heart is…

  No.

  Focusing my mind on the events occurring, I look down at the brunette fumbling with my jeans. For someone so eager to get on her knees, she’s taking her sweet time getting them open.

  Impatient to get her mouth around me, I take over. Yanking the buttons open, I get my cock out.

  I’m barely semi.

  What the fuck?

  Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s just because of this stupid not sleeping around that I’ve been doing. Only having sex with Lyla has just confused things. Confused my cock, but he’ll get back in the game once I get going with this chick. He’ll come to life when he gets in her mouth.