Grabbing Samantha, I pull her off the ground and into me, her face in my chest. It lasts only a moment before she’s shoving me away, her hands hitting my chest.
“Jesus Christ, King!” Sam shouts, pushing away from me, looking between Tags and me. She looks torn, and I fucking hate that look on her face. The fact that she even gives another man any sort of attention makes me see red.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” I tell him.
Tags shakes his head, his face in his hands.
“Fuck you, man.”
Tags comes at me and I hit him again. Brother or not, I will fucking kill him.
“Stop it, King!” Samantha’s shouting, pulling on my cut. “You hit him again!”
I don’t laugh, but I want to, even though nothing’s fucking funny about this situation. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind the longer I’m around her. “Yeah, you don’t fuckin’ say,” I deadpan, not fucking around. He’s lucky his jaw is the only thing broken.
The back door pops open and Rock steps out.
“Jesus, King,” Tags growls, holding his jaw and coming at me. It doesn’t work. Rocky’s got him, holding him back. “The fuck’s goin’ on?” he snaps, looking at me.
“None of your goddamn business. Take his drunk ass inside. I’m takin’ Samantha home.”
“You okay?” He looks at Samantha, watching her face. I know he loves her like a sister, but I don’t like it.
She nods, frowning. “I’m fine.”
Rock looks at me and nods, walking back inside, hauling Tags in with him.
Alone with the princess, I advance.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” she tells me, backing away from me.
Shrugging, I tell her, “You’re the reason.” That shocks her. Her eyes go wide and her pretty mouth drops open.
Samantha has always driven me fucking crazy. Crawled inside my brain and fucked with it. Ruined me. I hate the bitch as much as I love her.
“What?” Now she’s screeching. “How?” Blonde hair a disaster. White dress stained. She looks worse for wear.
“He touched you.” It’s simple. Keep your motherfucking hands to yourself. Now she’s really shocked. Hell, I’m fucking shocked. Jealously isn’t me, never was. Looks like shit’s changin’.
“He was just saying hi,” the pretty little princess growls, shoulder checking me as she tries to push past me, going after him. Not happening.
“Fucking doubtful.”
No one touches her. Not Tags—no one.
“He was—”
“You’re mine,” I tell her quietly, grabbing her arm and stopping her dead in her tracks.
“Oh, am I?” she growls. “What about the bitch hangin’ off you in the bar just a second ago?”
“What about her?” Some stupid hang around means nothing and she knows it. The bitch was getting drink orders and that’s it. Swear to fuck, Samantha’s just looking for a reason to be mad and fight with me. “It’s only you.”
“Bullshit.” Pulling away, she steps back and eyes me, waiting for me to disagree.
That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard and she fucking knows it. I may not be everything the bitch wants out of life, her prince goddamn charming, but I’ve never treated her bad, never fucking hurt her, even when I’ve wanted to. “You know I’d fucking care if something happened to you.”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs.
Swear to fucking God, no one in my life has ever made me madder or fucking harder than this bitch. She’s standing in front of me, shoulders back, defiant as fuck. If she thinks I wouldn’t care if this piece of shit put his hands on her, then she’s fucking stupid.
“Doubt it,” she fires back.
“Swear to fucking God, Samantha.” Scrubbing at my face, I take a couple deep breaths before I snap and lose it more than I already have.
“I don’t—”
I cut her ass off. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here? You think I’m here to bullshit and shoot pool?” Her mouth snaps shut, and the heat drains from her cheeks. Pointing at her, I add, “I’m here to keep some creepy motherfucker away from you. Keep you alive and breathin’. That’s why I’m here, so don’t pull some bullshit by sayin’ I don’t care about you. Might not be the way you want me to fucking care, but,” I tap on my chest, “here I fucking am.”
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
“And you wouldn’t fucking have to.”
“I’m nothing more than a pair of tits and a warm body to you.”
That makes me laugh because it’s fucking hysterical how stupid she is, and it makes me laugh because she couldn’t be more wrong. That shit scares me, and I don’t know whether to puke or fucking laugh about it, so I laugh.
“Yeah,” I agree. “That’s why I keep comin’ back for more because you’re only a pair of tits.” I don’t know what she wants me to say. If she wants some heartfelt bullshit from me, she’s not getting it. If she wants me on bended knee confessing my love, then I’m sticking with the idea that she’s fucking stupid.
There’s something more with Samantha, something I don’t want to explore or touch on, but I know it’s there. I feel it when she looks at me, when I’m inside of her. There’s so much more.
“Just take me home,” she demands, done.
“My fucking pleasure.”
“I’m goin’ to bed,” she tells me, taking off up the stairs. I give her a minute before following her up, not done with this shit.
In her room, I watch her strip, pulling off her dirty white dress, leaving her in nothing but that sexy fucking lace deal.
“You really think I don’t care about you?”
“I don’t know what to think, King, because you won’t tell me. We fuck and it’s so good. She peels off the lace bodysuit. “And for years it worked, and then you show up here and things start to change,” she tells me, disappearing into the bathroom, naked. I follow her. “You act different. You’re not so cold, not so damn detached, and I’m fucking confused.”
Samantha flips on the shower, turning it hot.
She’s naked. Beautiful.
Tugging at my shirt, she stops me. “No. You can stay here, sleep on the couch, but we’re not having sex tonight.”
“Princess—”
“No,” she says firmly, sending me on my way. “I need a night.”
Not fucking happy about it, I give her the night, too fucking tired to fight with her. But if she’s asking me to leave, she’s not getting it. I take my ass downstairs and sleep on the fucking couch.