The door slams behind her so hard the picture next to the doorframe sways on the hook. Motherfuck! My dick is still hard as shit and the guilt. Fuck me, the guilt of having taken advantage of her—or whatever the fuck that just was—I can’t stand it.

She’s had her ex staying with her. I just kicked his arse and finger fucked the living shit out of her. I shake my head before I fall back onto the couch. I told her to leave…oh, for fuck’s sake. I freaked and told her to leave.

I stand up and pace. We’re friends or…something and I had no business doing that, but damn did I want to. I grab my keys and leather jacket and head out the door and straight to The Pit in search of Kyan because he’s well-versed in fuck-ups like this.

Within ten minutes, my bike is leaned against the side of the building and I’m walking through the doors and into the smoke-filled bar. Kyan’s leaning over the bar, talking to Haven. She grins and winks at him. Holy shit, if he’s fucking Haven, he’s going to get his arse beat to hell and back. Haven notices me and that smirk falls right off her face. She grabs a bar towel and pretends to wipe at a spot and ignore Kyan.

I walk up behind him and place my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you.”

“Aw, shit, what did I do?”

“Nothing. I just need…advice or something.”

His eyes widen and a sick smirk wiggles over his face. “Ah, you fucked a friend, didn’t you?” He winks. “Told ya’ the two of you weren’t friends.”

“I didn’t fuck her, Kyan.”

He glares at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really—”

“Boy,” Larry shouts as he comes out from behind the bar. “You better not be causing no more ruckus like that in here. Those damn redheads are like she devils.”

I stare at him and Kyan laughs.

“I’m telling you, sonny. She devils. Those ginger’s ain’t got a lick of a soul.”

I nod at him, watching as he swipes at his glass eye that’s gone crooked. “Sure thing, Lars.”

He points at me. “Red in the head, fire in the hole and a whole lot of fucked up shit to come right along side it.”

“What the fuck is he on about?” Kyan whispers through a grin.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, Lars,” Kyan says as he stands up. “We’re heading out. Send Lou my love.”

He nods and Kyan slaps his hand over my back, leading me to the exit. “So, if you didn’t fuck her, what’s the problem?”

“I finger fucked her.”

He stops midstride and glares at me, lifting a single brow. “Finger fucked her?”

“Yeah.”

He covers his mouth with his hand and snorts out a laugh. “Did you finger fuck her right before or after you dry humped her?”

“Oh, fuck off, would you?”

He holds his hands up and shakes his head. “I’m just saying. How old are you?”

“Never mind,” I say and push through the door, immediately heading to the side of the building and grabbing my bike.

“Wait a second, fucktard. I’m just taking the piss. Look, you like her.” I stare blankly at him.

“You. Like. Her.” I grab my helmet and shove it over my head. I don’t even know why the fuck I came down here to talk to him. “She likes you. What is the fucking deal with the two of you? I mean, honest to god, Finn. You both act like a pair of confused adolescents. Finger fucking and all the fucking angst. Give it a rest. Sink your dick in her and be done with it.”

The fact that he thinks I could treat Hope like a slut irritates the fuck out of me. I lift the shield to my helmet. “Sink my dick in her and be done with it?” I ask.

Kyan tosses his head back and groans before he drags his hands down his face, the rough motion causing the bottom of his eyes to stretch down. “Not like that. Just fucking date her, for fuck’s sake. No wonder you’re single. Jesus in heaven, you’re doing my fucking head in and I’m not trying to fuck you. Poor ginge, I wouldn’t put up with your arse for anything.”

“Thanks, Kyan.”

I go to crank the bike and he steps forward, placing his hand over mine. “Tell me you didn’t tell her to leave?” I drop my chin to my chest and sigh. “Ah, fuck, mate.” He shakes his head. “You hate me, don’t you? I’m never gonna hear the end of this shit. Look, call her. Tell her you’re an arsehole, a rancid dick dribbling fuck face, tell her you have fucking Tourette’s or some shit and that when you say ‘leave Hope’ you actually mean, put your pussy on my mouth.”

I just stare at him. That’s all I can do. A group of women strut past the alley, giggling, which, of course, catches his attention. He glances to the sidewalk and whistles. They all stop and stare at us.

“Fancy fucking a fighter?” he shouts. That gets another fit of girly laughter. I’ll never understand why any girl would want to be within five-hundred meters of his dick.

“Look, tell her you’re sorry,” he says, slowly backing toward the sidewalk. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”

“Thanks, mate,” I say and crank my bike, watching as he hurries over to the group of girls waiting for him.

Tell her I’m sorry. Is it really that fucking simple? Because it never has been before…