Defy You: A Brother's Best Friend/Age Gap Romance (Rebel Ink Book 3)

by Tracy Lorraine

  The atmosphere in the room immediately changes, making it hard to drag in the air I need.

  “Get dressed,” he says coolly. “I’m taking you home.”

  Sitting up, I watch him march from the room. The muscles in his back flex in the most delicious way as he moves, and it’s not until he’s disappeared from my sight that I’m able to look or even think about anything else.

  What the hell just happened?

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, keeping my movements slow so the room doesn’t spin, I stand and follow him.

  His door is still open, but the sound of him moving around inside is clear.

  Coming to stop in his doorway, I push the door wider and lean against the frame.

  “Spike?” He’s still just in his boxer briefs, and I can’t help but allow my eyes to wander over his inked skin. He’s got fewer tats than I was expecting, and my muscles twitch to add more. Not that I think for a second he’d let my amateur fingers anywhere near his skin.

  “Get dressed, Kas.” His eyes lift for the briefest moment, but the second they lock on me, he looks away again.

  “For someone who was so adamant he wanted me here last night, you’re pretty keen to get rid of me now.”

  “Yeah, well. Things change. Now, will you do as you’re fucking told? Or I’ll take you home like that.”

  I look down at myself wearing his t-shirt and shrug. No one where I live would bat an eyelid if I turned up dressed like this.

  “I can take myself home. I don’t need you.”

  That stops him.

  “Oh, like you didn’t need me last night.”

  “Yeah, I did, but you denied me, remember?”

  His lips purse and his eyes narrow. “That wasn’t what I meant.” A muscle in his neck pulsates as he stares at me, and I can’t help but smile at him.

  “Maybe not, but it seems like you might be regretting it now. Feeling a little frustrated, are you, old man?” I ask, flicking a look down to where his semi is still pressed against the thin fabric of his boxers.

  His teeth grind and his muscles tense at my name for him. “Enough with the old man thing,” he warns.

  “Why? You’re what… ten years older than me?”

  “Yeah, exactly why we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

  I cross my arms over my chest knowing full well that it will make the shirt rise, exposing more of my legs.

  “Get. Dressed.”

  “Keep your fucking knickers on. I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Maybe then you should figure out a way to relieve that tension.” I give him an insincere smile before spinning on my heels and walking back to my room.

  I don’t find any of my clothes or my stuff there, so I head for the living room. I find my leggings in a pile where I vaguely remember stripping them off, along with my ruined shirt on the kitchen floor.

  The memory of letting it fall from my shoulders in front of him hits me, and I can’t help but laugh to myself. No wonder he’s feeling a little worked up this morning. I offered myself to him on a platter last night, and he turned me down. I probably should feel a little hurt about that, but it’s like water off a duck’s back. It only fires me up to keep pushing him. I need some entertainment in my life; fuck knows everything else I’ve got to deal with is too depressing for words.

  Pulling on my leggings, I leave my ripped top on the counter and pull my bag over my shoulder.

  “Thanks for last night,” I call out before pulling the front door open and marching through it.

  It slams behind me, leaving no question about the fact I just walked out. My head pounds as I begin to jog my way down the stairs and away from Spike and his morning attitude.

  I need to go home, have a shower, and get ready for work again. I’ve got a debt to pay, and from the looks of last night, Jet isn’t willing to wait any longer for what he thinks I owe him.

  I can’t afford it, but as I move, I pull up the Uber app on my phone and order myself a car. I just need to get out of here.

  It seems that some luck must be on my side, because there’s a car right around the corner and it’s pulling up in front of me in less than thirty seconds.

  I’ve got the door open and I’m about to climb inside when a voice behind stops me.

  “Wait.”

  “What now?” I ask, my voice flat and unamused by the fact that he’s just followed me.

  “Let me take you.”

  “Why? So you feel better about yourself? So you can tell Zach that you looked after me? Fuck off, Spike.” I flip him off and climb into the car, slamming the door behind me. “Go, please,” I instruct the driver, and he pulls away from the curb.

  I breathe out a sigh of relief and rest back, but it doesn’t last all that long.

  “Are you in trouble, miss?”

  I open my mouth to respond with something along the lines of, ‘I’m always in trouble’, but I refrain from making this situation look worse than it already is.

  “No, I’m good thanks. Just the morning after the night before, you know how it is.” He glances at me in the mirror and I realise that I’ve not even looked at myself this morning. I probably look like a bus has run over me.

  “Okay, well… you should probably know that he’s following us.”

  “What?” I bark, twisting in the seat to look out of the back window. Sure as shit, there’s a black bike right behind us. I narrow my eyes on his right arm and immediately recognise his tattoos.

  “Motherfucker.”

  “I don’t get paid enough to embark on a car chase,” the driver mutters.

  “He’s not a threat to me,” I say with a sigh. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

  Resting back, I close my eyes for a beat and think back to last night and the way he tried to rescue me from myself. Twice.

  I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t want to be working as a stripper, but aside from properly selling my body or becoming a drug lord, I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to raise the money I need. And fast.

  The threat of what will happen if I don’t pay Jet is the only reason I stay up on that stage and allow the sleazy men to drool over me. Deep down, I was more than happy to be dragged away from it.

  Equally, I can’t deny that being in his arms after the incident with Jet didn’t feel pretty damn good. I’m not sure I’ve ever been held quite like that in my life before.

  For just those few moments, I felt safe, protected. Two feelings I really don’t need to get used to, because where I come from, the only way to survive is to look after yourself.

  “So, you still want to go to the same address?”

  I consider my options. Wherever I go, I have a feeling that he’s going to follow. And really, by not going home, I’m only putting off the inevitable.

  “Yeah,” I say sadly, once again resting my head back and closing my eyes. I need more fucking sleep.

  I think back to what I remember from last night. I recall him turning me down, but how did he end up in my bed when he quite adamantly didn’t want me?

  The movement of the car eventually sends me to sleep, and it’s not until the driver speaks that I wake up. My head is groggy from my impromptu nap and the lingering vodka in my system, but the second I look up at the dark and dingy building I live in, everything hits me once again.

  “Thank you,” I say, pushing the door open right as a rumbling engine pulls up alongside us.

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself.

  “What the hell is this place?” he asks the second he pulls his helmet off.

  We’re in one of the shittiest areas of London, one that I’d likely say he’s not visited before, if the look on his face right now is anything to go by.

  “This is my house.” I refrain from calling it my home, because it’s the biggest shithole ever and doesn’t deserve that label.

  “Here? You live here?” We both turn when the door slams and we watch some junkie stumble down the steps and sway h
is way down the street.

  Concern laces through Spike’s eyes when he turns back to me. I fucking hate it.

  Pushing past him, I head for the front door to let myself in—and hopefully shut him out.

  “This isn’t a house, Kas. It’s a fucking crack den.”

  “It’s not, actually,” I bark over my shoulder. “It’s a house share. Now, have you finished stalking me?”

  “I’m not fucking leaving you here,” he says, following me. His face is hard and the muscles in his shoulders are pulled tight as he takes in the rubbish, bottles, and other questionable paraphernalia littering the steps I’m standing on.

  “You fucking well are.” I spin at him and place my hands on my hips.

  “Does Zach know?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. There’s no point lying—he’ll only go to my brother and ask.

  “We haven’t spent all that much time together yet,” I mutter. It’s the truth. Since I discovered he was my brother and plucked up the courage to speak to him, we’ve both been pretty busy. Plus, I’ll do anything I can to keep him away from this place. I’d have happily kept Spike away from it too, if he hadn’t insisted on following me.

  “He won’t allow you to live here.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m an adult who has my own mind, isn’t it?” I taunt.

  “Tiny,” he warns.

  “Stop fucking calling me that. And leave me the hell alone.”

  Spinning on my heel, I rush into the house and go straight for the stairs.

  The place stinks, and having spent the night in Spike’s clean flat makes that fact only more obvious.

  As always, there are people everywhere. It’s meant to be a house share for a maximum of eight people, but most nights it feels like eighty instead.

  I race up the stairs and toward the room I call mine, although in reality, it’s not just mine.

  There are three makeshift beds in here, and all my stuff is in a couple of cases and a box. It’s a pretty shitty way to live, but it’s all I’ve ever known.

  Mum dragged me from shithole to shithole and introduced me to all the down and outs that live in this city.

  Thankfully, no one else is actually in the room right now, so I drop my backpack on my bed and start rummaging for some clean clothes, hoping the bathroom is empty and in some kind of working order.

  The creak of footsteps sounds out from behind me and my spine straightens. Jet knows where I live.

  Just a few more shifts, then I can get paid for the month and get him off my back. For now.

  Only, when my visitor speaks, I realise I’m not in danger.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You can’t live here like this.”

  When I glance over my shoulder, he looks furious. As his eyes flit around the small room, they’re filled with disbelief.

  “It’s done me okay for most of my life.”

  He opens his mouth to respond but clearly doesn’t have any words because he just closes it again.

  “Do you mind? I need to have a shower and get ready for work.”

  “I’m not leaving you here.”

  “Then it looks like you’re moving in as well. Good thing about that is that no one will notice.” I roll my eyes, going back to my bag to find some clean underwear. I really need to get my arse to the launderette.

  A growl is emitted from behind me before large hands wrap around my waist and I’m moving.

  “Do you fucking mind? Arsehole.”

  “No, I really fucking don’t.”

  I watch as he bends down where I just was and starts shoving all the haphazardly strewn clothes inside before zipping it up.

  “What else is yours?”

  I stare at him as he picks up the two cases before flicking my eyes to the box beside them.

  “That too?”

  For fuck’s sake. I chastise myself for not staying strong.

  “You can’t force me away from this place. I live here. I pay rent here.”

  “Well, then I’m about to save you some money.”

  “Uh—”

  “Tiny, either follow me, or I’ll carry you out like all your shit.”

  “It’s not shit. It’s my life.”

  He looks down at the pathetic number of possessions I own, and a sadness I don’t need to see washes across his face.

  Looking away, my eyes land on my best friend’s bed beside mine. Jodie and I have been friends for years. I can’t just up and leave her.

  “Let’s go, Tiny.”

  “No.” I stand firm with my hands on my hips, but I know it’s a battle that I’m not going to win.

  “You’re a pain in the fucking arse, you know that?”

  “I’ve been told a time or two.”

  He drops the cases and stalks toward me. I back up, but I only make it two steps before I hit the wall.

  His palms plant themselves on the dirty paint either side of my head, and he bends his knees so he’s at my eye level.

  “I’ve got a perfectly good guest room with your name written all over it.” His eyes hold mine, but I hate the pity I see in their depths.

  Ripping my stare away, I look at his shoulder instead.

  “There’s no point in arguing with me on this. You send me away, and I’ll come back with Zach. We both know he’ll give you even less of a choice than I am right now.”

  I blow out a breath, an emotion that I don’t want to be feeling beginning to burn in my eyes.

  “Tiny?” His fingers connect with my chin and he forces me to look back at him. “Fuuuck,” he whispers when he sees the tears filling my eyes.

  His hand moves up to cup my cheek, and his thumb catches the lone tear when it drops. I hate myself for being weak. Living in places like this all my life has hardened me better than this. But one look in his chestnut eyes and I turn to mush.

  Damn him.

  “You hungry?” he asks, changing tack.

  I nod. I’m starving after not having anything to eat last night and unable to turn down the offer of some decent food.

  “Good.” He reaches back down and takes my cases in one hand. By some miracle he also scoops up the box. “This everything?”

  I nod, because I’m still very reluctant about this, but I don’t think I stand a chance in hell of arguing with him right now.

  I follow him out of the house. The pair of us get more than a few curious looks, but as is usually the way, people stay out of my business.

  It never used to be like this, but the second people started to learn that I owed Jet, they started backing away. Everyone aside from Jodie, that is.

  My stomach twists at the thought of leaving her here alone. Her life’s about as screwed up as mine. I look back up the stairs, part of me longing for the only home I’ve ever known, while the other half of me screams that I should be happy about this.

  I’m getting a chance at the only thing I’ve ever really wanted. A real home. I should be shouting and screaming in excitement right now.

  Spike comes to a stop at his bike, looking between it and my limited possessions.

  “Suddenly realising that this was a stupid idea?”

  He thinks for a minute before pulling his phone out. He taps away at the screen before announcing that it’s sorted.

  I keep my eyes on him as he drops it back into his pocket, the denim of his jeans tightening across his crotch as he does so, giving me a hint of the bulge I was lucky enough to get an eyeful of this morning.

  Maybe his idea won’t be so bad. It’ll give me the opportunity to torment him again. Last night might have been all kinds of fucked up, but I can’t deny that I didn’t enjoy teasing him.

  I stand awkwardly on the pavement, waiting to see what his new plan is, suddenly achingly aware that I look every part the homeless girl standing outside the house share while he’s looking insanely hot and put together in his dark jeans and white, long-sleeved Henley that shows off his muscular arms and sculpted torso.


  My mouth waters as I look at him, thinking about the indents of his abs. I wonder if his muscles would twitch the way I’m imagining if I were to trace them with my tongue.

  “You’re staring.”

  My eyes fly up to his, my chin dropping.

  “Sleep deprived,” I mutter, trying to get out of being caught, but when I risk a glance up at him and find a smirk on his lips, I know he’s not believing a word of it.

  “Here’s the car,” he states, stepping forward when a black saloon comes to a stop before us.

  “What about your bike?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving my baby here.”

  I raise a brow at him, firstly because he called his bike his baby, but mostly because of his accusation.

  “Why? What do you think would happen to it?”

  He glances back over his shoulder at either the drunk or high guys hanging around. It’s not even midday and they’re all off their faces.

  “I know this might have been where you lived, Tiny. But it’s a fucking shithole.”

  My lips purse with my need to defend where I’ve lived for longer than I want to admit, but really, it’s pointless. I’m not blind. I can see this place for what it is. Plus, there’s a good chance that one of Jet’s boys are watching us right now, and I’m sure they’d delight in riding the thing into the Thames the second we turn our backs.

  “Here,” he says, passing something over.

  When I glance up, I find he’s holding a helmet.

  “Um… what the hell is the car for if you want me to get on that thing?”

  “The car is for your stuff. One of my neighbours is going to collect it at the other end for you. You’re getting on this, and we’re going for food before I starve.”

  “Starve?” I ask, thinking it’s a little extreme.

  “Shall we?” When I follow his gaze, I find the car disappearing down the road with everything I own. His movement catches my attention as he throws his long leg over the beast of a machine and looks at me.

  “Not scared, are you, Tiny?”

  Truth is, I kinda am. Not that I’m going to let him see that.

  “Scared? Puh-lease.” Praying that I look like I know what I’m doing, I pull the helmet over my head and fiddle with the clasp until it’s secured.