Mercedes
WHEN I PULLED UP outside the house after work that night, I was greeted by a dozen or more shiny cars sprawled all around the driveway, and music blaring from the house.
Rourke was having a party.
Again.
FML.
Overcome with a sudden burst of anger, I leapt out of my car and stalked up the driveway, stepping over scattered trash and Dixie cups along the way.
He was cleaning this shit up.
I was not being held responsible for this one.
Goddammit. It was bad enough walking into house to the stench of stale alcohol and vomit this morning. I was not waking up to it.
I let myself inside and immediately had to clamp my hands over my ears; the sound of the music so loud I feared it would burst my eardrums.
Slowly, I accustomed myself to the obscene volume of noise, and dropped my hands from my ears before shoving past several random, near naked teenagers; my thirst for answers focused on one in particular.
I found Rourke, several moments later, in the corner of our dimly lit kitchen where he seemed to be thoroughly investigating some blonde girl’s tonsils – with his tongue.
Pain.
Pain like I’d never known existed pierced through my chest, winding me.
God, this hurt.
This hurt so bad.
“Rourke!” I snapped, thoroughly shredded at the sight of the leggy blonde in a pink, sparkly bikini sitting on our countertop with her legs wrapped around Rourke who was pressed up against her. I’d cleaned this whole house up and buttered toast on that surface less than twelve hours earlier. Bastard. “Goddammit, Rourke!” I screamed when he didn’t answer me.
With all my might, I shoved him in the shoulder. He barely moved, but I did manage to get his attention.
Breaking the kiss, Rourke turned his face sideways and looked down at me. His features were flushed, his lips red and swollen, his hair all mussed up from where she’d been yanking on it, his eyes almost black with desire. His hands were still clamped on the blonde’s bony hips as he narrowed me with an impatient expression. “What?”
I knew I wouldn’t get an apology from him. I wasn’t anything to him. He’d made that perfectly clear to me, but the boredom and indifference in his tone took me by surprise.
“What?” I shook my head and gaped at the overgrown bastard. “Are you serious?”
“I’m seriously forgetting everything you told me to forget,” he slurred before winking. Drunk. The idiot was drunk. “I’m doing what you asked me to do. Now run along and annoy some other poor bastard.”
“No. I think I’ll stay and annoy you,” I shot back before gesturing around wildly. “I cleaned this damn place up after your last escapade and you decide to throw another party tonight? Really?”
“Walk away, Six,” he growled. “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight.”
“No!” I snarled. “I won’t. You’re not the only person who lives in this house.”
“I’m the only one I care about who lives in this house,” he shot back coolly. “Amelia’s at her friend’s house for the night. You don’t matter.”
His cruel remark drew a giggle from the blonde wrapped around him and I adverted my eyes from his face to hers.
Instantly, I knew who she was.
Britt.
I’d seen her before. I vaguely remembered seeing her smug face that night when Rourke threw me in the pool. This was the girl. The fuck buddy. The queen bitch. The one I lost sleep over.
As I took in her appearance, I knew I would lose many more night’s worth of sleep.
Britt was beautiful. Tall, blonde, blue eyed, and extremely thin with legs that went on for days; basically, everything I wasn’t.
Anger burned in my veins. At least I told myself it was anger. I would not consider it to be jealousy. I couldn’t afford to.
“What is your problem with me?” I screamed then, focusing my unstable emotions on my stepbrother. I couldn’t control myself around him. Rourke brought out a really ugly side in me. A side of me I had no control over.
“Get out of my face, Six,” Rourke warned, glowering down at me. The glazed over look in his eyes, and the smell of alcohol wafting from him, assured me he was, indeed, wasted.
“No.” Folding my arms across my chest, I glared up at him. I was stupid to fight with a drunk Rourke, but I couldn’t help myself. This boy set me on fire. “I’m not going anywhere until you send these people home and clean your damn mess up...”
He kissed her.
Right in front of me, with his eyes open and locked on my face, Rourke resumed his kissing expedition with Britt.
“I’m not done talking to you,” I hissed, shoving his arm once more, and forcing down the abnormal swell of pain in my chest. If I thought I felt pain before, it paled in comparison to the knife Rourke just stabbed in my chest.
Breaking the kiss, Rourke ran a hand through his hair in sheer exasperation. “Why won’t you just leave!”
“Yeah! Why don’t you climb back in the hole you came out of and get the hell out of my boyfriend’s house,” Britt hissed. “No one wants you here. Or your whore of a mother.”
Oh, hell no she did not!
“Don’t,” I whispered shakily, “talk about my mother.”
“Why?” she shot back with a cackle. “It’s the truth and everyone around here knows it.”
“Britt –” That was Rourke. He was trying to interject. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was his fault. Everything was his fucking fault.
“Why don’t you jump off your boyfriend’s dick and say that to my face, bitch,” I snarled, feeling the sting of tears in the back of my eyes. I would not cry. I would not give these people the satisfaction.
“Is she for real?” Britt snarled, hopping down from the countertop. “Oh, honey, I’m going to ruin you.” She walked straight up to me, dwarfing me with her impressive height.
She had to be at least five eight or nine. I was barely clocking in at five feet, but I’d be damned if I let that intimidate me. “Not if I ruin you first.”
“Goddamn, Britt,” Rourke’s voice came from close by. “Leave it alone.”
We were causing a scene, people were watching, and I didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t going to treat me like this and she wasn’t going to talk about my mother. Over my dead freaking body.
“Your momma saw a meal ticket in Rourke’s father and trapped him with a baby,” Britt hissed, smirking down at me. “That makes her a whore, and you a whore’s bastard.”
“Fuck you.” Closing my fist, I reared back and socked her in the mouth.
“You little bitch!” Seconds later, I was sprawled out on the kitchen floor with this Britt bitch straddling me. “You’re dead,” she roared as she pulled on my hair and scratched at my face. “Dead!”
“Go for it,” I screamed, giving back as good as I got. She was kicking my ass. It was obvious and I could feel blood trickling down my face, but I refused to back down. I would rather die with this skinny bitch’s hands around my throat than give in.
“Goddammit, Brittany. Stop this!” Moving quickly, Rourke stepped between us. “Get away from her!”
Blocking Britt’s view of me, Rourke grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet – and out of harm’s way.
“Let her go, Rourke,” Britt ordered as several girls arrived to flank her. “That little bitch punched me.”
“Yeah, let me go, Rourke,” I hissed as I shoved against him, desperately trying to break free from his hold and get my hands on her neck. “So I can rearrange that stuck up nose of hers.”
“Don’t even think about it, Six,” Rourke hissed in my ear. Wrapping his arms around my body, he pulled me roughly against him; my back pressed tightly to his chest. “Back the fuck up, Britt.”
“What are you doing?” Britt hissed, glaring at the boy who was holding onto me. “Taking up for that fat bitch? You’re mine, Rourke. You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“Fat bitch?” I screamed in outrage.
“Quit acting like a crazy bitch then, Britt,” Rourke shot back, struggling to keep ahold of me. “You know I got no time for this shit. We’ve been here before, remember? Told you last time, I ain’t putting up with it again.” I could feel Rourke’s heart hammering in his chest. He was pressed so close to me, it was hard to ignore. “She’s off limits,” he snarled, pulling me close. “You got that? You don’t fucking touch her.”
“But you hate her!” She actually stomped her foot. “You’ve said it yourself.”
Suddenly, four familiar faces appeared in front of me.
“Back the fuck up, Britt,” Daryl ordered, taking stance between us.
Bear stood beside him, a silent force to be reckoned with “Now.”
“Yeah,” Mase added, coming to stand in front of me. “Take your skanky ass back to the Jefferson boys. We ain’t biting here, baby.”
The Jefferson boys? Who the fuck were the Jefferson boys?
“Damn, baby girl,” Reebo whistled, appearing in front of me. Scooting down, he looked at my face and grimaced. “She got you good.”
Reebo reached a hand towards my face and Rourke quickly slapped it away. “Don’t touch her,” he snarled, tightening his hold on me harder than ever.
Reebo glared at him. “Might wanna tell your crazy fucking ex that, asshole. Have you looked at her face?”
“Just get her out of here,” Rourke muttered under his breath before forcefully walking me from the room. Releasing me at the bottom of the staircase, he glared down at me and ordered, “Go up to your room and wait there.” He was shaking all over as he stared down at me. “I’ll fix this.”
“I will,” I hissed through clenched teeth before slipping around his huge frame and making a run for the kitchen. “After I kill that bitch.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I heard Rourke growl just as his arms came around my body. Seconds later, I was thrown over his shoulder and on the move. “You’re crazy, girl,” he hissed as he climbed the staircase with one arm wrapped around the back of my thighs. “Fucking nuts.”
“Let. Me. Down,” I snarled as I forced myself to look anywhere but his denim clad ass – that I had the perfect view of. “Now.”
He didn’t let me down.
And he didn’t stop walking until we were outside my bedroom door.
Using one foot, Rourke kicked my door open and stalked inside, with me still over his shoulder. He walked over to my bed and slung me down roughly. “Stay here and calm your ass down.”
“No!” Scrambling to my feet, I moved to slip past him, but he intercepted my move and used his huge frame to cut me off. “Move, Rourke.”
“No.”
“Dammit!” Releasing a scream of pure frustration, I slapped his chest with my hands and yelled, “Move.”
“No.”
“You’re such an asshole!” I screamed, my temper getting the best of me. “Dammit!”
“Why am I even bothering?” Running a hand through his hair, Rourke shook his head and laughed humorlessly. “I should let you go back down there and get your ass handed to you.”
“Suits me,” I shot back.
“Sit the fuck down, Six.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re bleeding, dammit!” he roared. “And I need to clean you up.”
“I don’t need you to do shit for me,” I shot back, my hands immediately moving to my face. Damn that bitch. I was bleeding. “I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah,” he sneered sarcastically. He turned and walked over to my door before releasing an annoyed growl. “Sure looked that way downstairs.”
“Hey, maybe one of your friends can help take care of me,” I called out mockingly. Wait – why was I doing this? Why was I taunting him? “Maybe Reebo or Mason?”
“Like hell!” Rourke snarled. Seconds later, I was airborne again and being carried from my bedroom to his.
Rourke walked over and tossed me down on his bed before walking back to his door.
“Why did you bring me in here?” I demanded, sprawled out on my back.
“Because I’ve got a lock with a fucking key in here, and your room doesn’t,” he growled. I watched him lock his bedroom door and slide the key into his jeans pocket. “And apparently, I’m on suicide watch with your crazy ass.”
He was right. I had a lock on my door, but it was one of those locks built into the door handle – easily accessible. Smart Fucker.
He disappeared into his bathroom then, returning a few moments later with a wet wash cloth. “Come here,” he ordered, sinking down on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t do me any favors,” I was quick to shoot back, scrambling away from him.
“Get your ass over here now, Six,” he growled, eyes locked on mine. “Or I’ll fucking put you over here.”
Sulking, I gave in and scooted over. I’d had enough rough and tumble for the night. I was prideful, but even I knew I was no match for this guy.
With my heart hammering against my ribcage, I crawled over Rourke’s ruffled bedsheets, and knelt beside him. He had one foot resting on the floor, the other tucked up on the bed. The white shirt he had on was dotted with blood.
My blood, I realized.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked me.
Yes, but not in places I wanted him to touch me. Or maybe I did want him to touch me in those places and that was the problem…
“I’ll live,” I whispered, remaining completely still as he gently probed my face with his surprisingly gentle fingers. His breath fanned my face and I could smell the alcohol on it. He was drunk. He had to be. Hell, I was getting buzzed alone off the fumes of what he’d consumed tonight.
“Fucking Britt,” Rourke muttered under his breath. He was holding my chin with one hand and using the other to wipe my face and he had a deep frown on his face. “This one’s bad.” He pressed his thumb against my bottom lip. “Dammit.”
“I’m... ine…ourke,” I tried to say, but it was difficult with his thumb pressing down on my lip.
“No,” he growled. “You’re not.” He leaned closer then, hands cupping my cheeks, inspecting what I assumed was a claw mark and his breath washed over my neck. The sensation caused a tremor to roll through me.
Nervous anxiety, I put it down to, but my body knew the truth.
It was lust.
Every nerve inside of me was on high alert as my stepbrother touched me in ways that were perfectly innocent, but to me, the girl who’d been futilely denying my feelings since arriving here, it was entirely too much.
I wanted him. He was cruel and mean and slept around. He was the worst person for me to feel an attraction towards, but it didn’t change the fact that I did. I wanted Rourke. Badly. I shouldn’t have stopped him last night. I wouldn’t stop him tonight. If he only wanted me…
Knowing I needed to say something – do something – to snap myself out of this lust driven trance, I asked, “Why aren’t you going down there and fixing things with your girlfriend?” When he didn’t respond, I added, “She sounded pretty pissed at you.” Understatement of the century. “Sounded like she was two seconds away from dumping your ass.”
Rourke dropped the washcloth on the floor and looked straight into my eyes. “Look at my face and tell me how many fucks you see me giving?” he ordered and I did. There was no way I could look away from him. “None,” he replied, tone gruff. “Because I don’t care, Six.”
“About your girlfriend?” I whispered, heart racing.
“About anything,” he replied before resuming the face touching. He seemed almost obsessed with checking me over. I didn’t understand why.
“Why not?” The question was out of my mouth before I had a chance to take it back.
“Probably because that part of me is broken,” he surprised me by answering. “I don’t work right, Six. I don’t care about people. Haven’t for a long fucking time now.” For once, there was no hint of sarcasm in his voice. Just sadness.
“Why?” My voice was softer, my heart thawing to his confession. “What broke you?”
Rourke took a long time answering my question. In fact, he took so long that I wasn’t sure he would answer. Finally, he whispered, “Trusting people.”
“Oh.”
“And Britt’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
“But she was?”
He nodded. “She was.”
My heart sank.
Why did that hurt so badly?
It shouldn’t hurt so badly.
It was something I already knew.
“I’m hurt that you were kissing her tonight,” I admitted then, voice torn. It wasn’t something I was proud to say out loud, but I had to get it off my chest. “Seeing you with her?” I sighed heavily. “Was hard.”
Rourke stared hard at me for the longest moment before muttering a string of curses. He rubbed his stubble covered jaw with his hand and exhaled a ragged breath. “Goddammit, Six.”
“What?”
“What?” He glared at me with a heated expression. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s the truth,” I admitted. “I hated seeing you with her.”
He leaned closer to me before quickly pulling back. “I don’t need this shit, Six.” His voice was strained, jaw clenched. “Shit.”
“Don’t need what?” I breathed, watching his every move. I was moving closer to his body. I couldn’t stop myself. It was an automatic reaction. Right now, he felt like a magnet, pulling me closer.
“You,” he groaned, still cupping my face. “I don’t need you; coming up in here and fucking everything up.” He sounded almost pained as he gestured between us and moved closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t need this.”
“Why?” There was that question again. It seemed to be all I could say. I knew I should be mad at him, but I couldn’t muster it up. I was drowning in the feel of having his hands on my face and his brow pressed to mine.
“Because,” Rourke whispered, but didn’t offer anything further. His mouth was less than an inch from mine.
“Because?” My breathing hitched; awareness of how close I was to what I had been denying myself hit me hard.
“You were right to push me away that night,” he whispered, his confession a drunken slur. “Me and you? It’s a bad idea…”
“I regret pushing you away,” I interrupted. “I wish I hadn’t.”
“Don’t say that,” he groaned.
My heart hammered violently in my chest. “It’s the truth.”
“I’ve already told you,” he whispered, leaning closer to me. “I don’t love you.”
“I know.” I swallowed deeply and knotted my fingers in his shirt. “I don’t love you, either.”
“And I won’t love you,” he added, tone gruff. “You need to get that.”
“I get it,” I breathed, sliding my hand beneath his shirt to feel his ripped stomach. “I just don’t think I care anymore.” Crazy as it was, I was completely and utterly overtaken by this boy and all of the danger he represented to me. “I still want you.” With my free hand, I reached up and cupped his stubbly jaw with my trembling hand. “Even if you hate me,” I whispered before pulling his face down to mine.
The moment my lips touched his, Rourke froze.
His eyes were still open and locked on mine.
I could see the questions blazing in those blue depths, his hesitance and his burning hunger.
I didn’t have the answers to the questions I saw in his eyes. I didn’t know them myself. I was confused and unsure and terrified of rejection.
I wasn’t sure what he saw in me then, and I didn’t care, because whatever it was caused him to close his eyes and kiss me back.
He kissed me back.
He was still kissing me back.
Opening my mouth to his gentle probing, I allowed my tongue to duel with his, moaning weakly when he pulled back to tug on my bottom lip before reclaiming my lips with a soul searing kiss.
Nothing had ever felt this good.
Nothing had ever felt like Rourke.
Taking control of the situation, Rourke moved forwards, never breaking the kiss, and rolled me onto my back. Seconds later, his body came down on mine, hard, warm, and entirely welcome.
Shimmying beneath his body to shift my skirt up, I opened my legs to Rourke and whimpered into his mouth when his erection pressed hard against my panties.
He clamped a strong hand around one of my thighs and hitched it over his waist as he thrust himself against me, lips never leaving mine.
I didn’t care that he had been kissing another girl less than an hour ago. I didn’t care that I was a virgin and about to give myself up to a boy who had the potential to crush me. I didn’t care if he didn’t love me. I didn’t care about anything other than having his lips on mine and his weight pressing me down. His hand moved to the hem of my shirt, pushing it upwards. Then he was touching my stomach, moving higher…
I moaned loudly when Rourke reached for the cup of my bra and yanked it downwards. My breast fell heavily into his hand. The moment he pinched my nipple, something erupted inside of me, a deep heat of some sorts, and I bucked wildly beneath him.
Grinding against me, I could feel his pulse hammering in his chest. He was hard and his erection strained against the fabric of his jeans, pressing between my legs. The feel of his hands on my skin caused my clit to pulse hard. I needed him. I needed friction. God, I needed this. More of him.
Rourke continued to kiss me, his tongue stroking mine in fluent, confident strokes as I trembled beneath him. His hands were on my hips, pulling me against him, coveting my body.
As soon as it had started it was over and I wanted to scream ‘no’ when Rourke jerked off me and leapt off the bed.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I panted, breathless, as I gaped up at his beautiful face.
“I…Fuck!” Rourke hissed as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair and stared down at me with a heated expression. “God fucking dammit.”
My gaze dropped to the large bulge in his jeans. Why was he stopping this? He was hard and turned on. I know he was. I felt it. “Why’d you stop?”
“Don’t!” He held up his hand and clenched his eyes shut. “Please. Fuck. Don’t say another word. You were right the other night. We can’t do this.”
“What?” I shook my head and stared at him in frustration. Two seconds ago, he’d been between my legs with my breast in his hand. “Why the hell not?”
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in what looked like pain.
Was he in pain?
What the hell was wrong with him?
“I told you,” I breathed. “I want to do this with you.”
“Well I can’t do this with you,” Rourke choked out.
“With me?” Rejection coursed through me. What was I – a piece of shit? “Fuck you, Rourke.”
“Fuck me,” he agreed grimly. “Exactly, Six. Fuck me and you’ll regret it.” He shook his head and exhaled heavily. “You deserve…not me.” Turning around, Rourke walked over to his bedroom door and reached for the key in his pocket.
I didn’t want him to go back downstairs to her.
I wanted him to stay right here with me.
“Is this because of what happened to your sister?” I blurted out, desperate, just as Rourke was about to walk out. Was it? Was he leaving me here because he thought I didn’t want this?
He froze in the doorway of his room, back stiffened.
“I know she was abused,” I quickly continued to say, desperate to keep him here with me. “By a family member… who said it was consensual,” I added, feeling flustered. “This? You and me? I want this, Rourke.” I swallowed deeply. “I just wanted you to know that…if that’s why you’re walking away from me.”
Moving like lightening, Rourke turned and stalked towards me, not stopping until he was leaning over me.
“Let me be very clear about something,” he whispered, his hands on either side of my body, blue eyes locked on mine. “I stopped Britt from beating on you tonight because I don’t need the hassle.” He leaned closer. “Football starts back on Monday and I don’t need my father interfering with my team because of you. You’re a complication for me, Six. A fucking nuisance.” His eyes were blood shot and full of rage as he spoke. “And I stopped this from happening because I don’t want you. Because fucking you would be a horrible mistake.”
“I hate you,” I squeezed out, forcing myself not to cry.
Rolling off his bed, I barreled past him and ran to my room. I refused to let this boy see me bleed.
The pain inside of me his cruel words had provoked had turned pensive and poisoned but I would burn in hell before letting him see just how badly he had hurt me.