Page 34 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

I jump, swallowing again. “An extra set of p-panties?”

He shakes his head again. “No.”

I should probably insist on panties at least, given that the ones I’m wearing are completely drenched and sticky. But it’s not about that, is it? It’s about something else, so I decide to be straight with him. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

“What doesn’t work?”

“I-I mean, I…” I lick my lips. “I haven’t had sex before.”

Looking at mine, he licks his back. “I know what a virgin means.”

“Yes, so…” I fist his hair as I continue, “I know you think I can help you with… with your soccer and I can be your distraction, but what if I’m not? What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not good at it and?—”

He bends even lower then. So low that the tips of our noses graze against each other.

His mouth comes within a microinch of mine, so, so very close , to touching, to kissing—God, finally kissing —but not quite as he says, “Like you, I’ve had a lot to think about too.

In fact, all I did ever since I left you in that bathroom last night is think.

I thought and thought and fucking thought, and you know what I realized? ”

“What?”

“The biggest tragedy,” he rasps, sliding our noses against each other so softly, as softly as how harshly he’s using his fingers to abuse my body, as harshly as he’s saying these words, “in all of this is that you are it for me.”

My heart is racing so hard in my chest that I bet it’s fueling his because we’re practically glued to each other. That there’s no way our hearts aren’t in sync, but still, I’m confused. “I don’t?—”

“Now,” he begins, cutting me off, and suddenly letting me go.

He extricates himself from our crushing embrace, causing me to unwrap my leg from around him and go back down to the floor, my arms falling limp at my sides.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he takes a step back, and because of his size it’s a massive one too, so without any warning there seems to be miles of distance between us and I’m left stranded by the door.

Without taking his eyes off me, he reaches back and gets his wallet out. He holds it up, commanding, “Tell me what this is.”

My hands go back and find purchase on the door, my thighs shaking again.

Even if I wanted to stop them, tighten my muscles, I couldn’t, the shakes are so violent.

And right now, I don’t even care. Because this is it, isn’t it?

This is where he becomes a giant asshole to me and reduces this to something cheap.

Because that’s just who he is. But I remind myself that it’s okay.

Once his asshole phase passes, I’m going to bring him over to the good side.

The side where people talk like adults and big feelings are okay.

I glance over to the wallet. “Your wallet.”

“And what do you think is in my wallet?”

I blush. Hard. And rake my nails down the door, my heart thudding and thudding in my chest. “M-money.”

He nails me with his gaze. “Yeah, money. More specifically, this .” He flips it open and, still holding my gaze, fishes out a wad of folded bills. And he continues, “This is more than what I gave your stripper friend the other night.”

My eyes pop wide at the thick bundle. “But that’s?—”

“Double.”

“What?”

He leans to the side and places it on the table. “This should cover everything.”

“What’s everything?”

“All the damage I do tonight.”

My belly clenches. “Shepard, I think?—”

“Which means if I tell you to do something you don’t wanna do, you take a look at this.

” He taps his finger on the table, pointing to the money.

“Every time you wanna say no to me, you think about how much money you’ll be making tonight.

Easy money. Easier than serving drinks and getting fucking assaulted by the scum of this town.

” He pauses to grit his teeth, as if he still isn’t over what happened out there.

“Easier than all the girls out there who have to spread their legs for every asshole who passes through this hellhole and shows them the money. Every time you don’t wanna let me do something to you, you think about how you only have to get on your back for one of those assholes and then you be a good girl for me and let me do it anyway. ”

I already know I won’t be doing that. I already know the only thing that can ever make me do anything that I don’t want to do is him. So I don’t need to look at his money, only him. In all his heartbreaking, toxic glory.

Shame burns every inch of my skin as I say, “Just so you know, you’re being a toxic asshole again.”

An emotion flickers across his face that so resembles regret that I’m stunned by it.

That I think I’m seeing it wrong, but it goes away so quickly that I can’t confirm whether or not it was there in the first place.

Then, features tightening, he says, “Yeah, and somehow, you’re still the Little Strawberry who can cut through my poison. Perfect for me.”

My eyes sting and emotions form a lump in my throat.

I didn’t know how hard it would be, doing this.

I thought I could handle it. But again, it’s okay.

I’ll get my turn. Until then, I’ll be strong.

I’ll be whoever or whatever he wants to be.

Then I will be his Little Strawberry who will cut through the poison in his veins.

He takes a seat at the booth then. Like all the nights before, he sits on the edge, his back up and his shoulders straight. His eyes watching and staring and noticing my every move. Then, with a hardened jaw, he commands, “Take your clothes off.”