Do you see me sitting in the makeshift pits in the street of Santa Monica? I look. . . amused? Bewildered? What about fucking annoyed? Yep. That’s it. Annoyed.
You’d think I would have gotten kicked off the tour with that stunt I pulled in Los Angles, two weeks ago, right?
Ha. No such fucking luck. Motherfuckers are ruthless. Here I am at round three of After Dark and completely fucking miserable. Remind me to be sober the next time I sign contract negotiations and also, while you’re at it, remind me I fucking hate these goddamn judges, and especially Doug Johnson.
“Talk Dirty” by Jason Derulo blaring through the PA system. Scarlet’s beside me in the pits, perched on the lift stand and watching with rapt attention. I don’t know why this is, but she’s always trying to figure me out. “Do you ever think girls look at you and think hey, if I got knocked up by him, it could potentially lead to a life of disappointment, meth, and possibly prostitution?”
Scarlet’s trying to be funny. The jokes about kids hasn’t stopped since the day Amberly showed up at the house. She’s trying like hell to get it out of me who the kid was, but I refuse. Naturally. I’m a secretive fuck. “Oh, probably.”
I’m only half paying attention to Scarlet because it’s who I notice in the distance, near the concession stands that takes my attention and holds it for longer than I’d like. Amberly with the girl at her feet, holding onto her leg like her life depends on it.
Unintentionally, my grip tightens on my helmet in my lap, and I stand and make my way to the fence, leaning in to it to get a better look at what’s going on with them. I don’t think I’m going to go over there, but I don’t know for sure because I’m irrational and always unpredictable.
My jaw clenches when Cody—Parker’s bike mechanic—hands the girl a bag of popcorn, and one to Amberly.
Fuck, am I jealous of him?
Goddamnit, I am. What kind of bullshit is this? When have I ever been jealous?
Um, always when it comes to her. Amberly’s been mine for longer than she knows and nothing usually stops me from proving that to others, just not her.
My fists clench. Turning around, I stare at my bike, wanting to kick it to the ground. Anything to take this aggression out on something.
Scarlet stands, jabbing her fist into my shoulder. “Fine, ignore me completely.”
I do. She leaves.
Out of the corner of my eye, Cody kneels next to River, tickling her sides. I want to break his motherfucking hands for touching my daughter.
My daughter? Why do I care? She doesn’t need to know who I am let alone me be concerned with who’s touching her. Fuck, man, what the hell’s wrong with me?
I wait until the kid’s out of sight, tucked away in the Jett Industries trailer behind the booth before I make my way over to Amberly. “Back to work?” I ask, casually leaning like my heart’s not pounding in my chest and my blood’s not boiling in my veins.
Amberly drags her head up to meet my gaze. Shit. Do you see the distaste? She hates my fucking guts. Can’t say I blame her. “I don’t like you, so I’m not talking to you.”
“You’re talking to me now.” I smirk, my eyes on Cody. “And the flush of your cheeks anytime I’m around tells me otherwise.”
Her reaction to me jolts my dick to life.
“I’m serious,” she warns. “You’re being a brat.” Do you see that look? The one she offers right before her eyes fall to the steering stabilizer box in her hand? That’s the one that tells me otherwise. Sure, she wants to act like she hates me, but all these years, it’s my callousness that draws her in, confines and shackles her to the floor.
“Brat?” I raise an eyebrow. “What am I, five?” Does she catch the meaning behind the age I give her? Probably not. When I was five years old, I gave Amberly a flower and asked if I could kiss her. She said no, so I ate the rose. I don’t know why I ate the rose, but I did.
Sighing, I run my hands through my hair. “I’m being a dick.” And then I whisper in her ear, “Can you say dick? Are you capable of cursing?”
Her lashes flutter and her hands fidget with her braid draped over her shoulder, unable to walk away from me. “I’m ignoring you.”
But she’s not. She can’t. And somehow, her saying that makes everything else around us fade away and my self-control, what little I have with her, keeps me from bending her over and fucking her ass.
“How’s parenthood treating you?” I ask, knowing it’ll piss her off and further excite me. “Have you joined a mommy and me group yet? Maybe googled how to keep your kid from playing with dead reptiles?”
Now she looks at me. Actually no, that’s a glare. “You’re like an emotional terrorist.” She drops her hands to her sides, tiny fists she wishes she could pound into my lifeless chest. “Why are you being such a jerk? How is it possible for you to make fun of the situation? River is your daughter. Your flesh and blood.”
The words, “River is your daughter,” hangs with me, a pain hitting my chest at the word daughter and the fact that I know her name now. Maybe she told me back at the house, I don’t remember, but I don’t give my emotions away. I never do, so I chuckle, keeping my eyes on hers. I want her to see, if she can, what she’s hoping for just isn’t going to happen. And I can’t even tell her why, just that I know I can’t give what she wants. “What do you want from me? Ava didn’t tell me for a good reason. Being an asshole is what I do and besides, what do you care?” I give a dismissive nod to the trailer. I want to take a wrench to Cody’s face for being in there with her. “Looks like you and Cody are making a cozy family.”
“He’s just being nice. You should take some lessons from him.”
I glance at the trailer once more. “Nah, I’ll pass. Why are you bringing the kid everywhere?”
“She’s not a dog, Tiller,” she barks. “I can’t put her in a kennel. Where I go, she goes. It’s not like I can afford a babysitter every time I have to go away. She’s having a hard time and missing her parents, and I’m not going to leave her when she needs me.”
I need you.
“Cody offered to help me out and keep an eye on her while I was working,” she admits.
I’m going to pause here and tell you a story. One that took place long ago and will probably give you an indication to my sanity, and my obsession with making this girl mine.
It was the night of her prom where I kidnapped her, but later found out she’d been kissed by someone else.
“Did you kiss him?” I asked, fearing her response. This girl fucking owned me and the idea of her kissing someone else, that didn’t sit well with me. It never would. She was mine, regardless of it not being said.
“Yes,” she replied, glaring at me. I could, now, not at the time, understand her frustration. I’d ruined her prom. Again.
“Why?”
“To know what it was like to kiss someone who wasn’t teasing me.”
“You think I tease you?” My eyes locked on hers, voice raw, watching her reaction. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes, you do,” she practically shouted in tears. “Tiller, you’re a superstar. I’m just a girl who follows you around. I have no place in your life besides being your secret friend.”
Sitting on the tailgate of my truck, I pulled her toward me. Wrapping my legs around her waist, I forced her to stay close.
The situation, the dilemma inside my head, made me blind to anything else around us. Whatever this was between us was so fucked up, and it was hard that it just kept going, year after year, never ending but never beginning either.
With a frustrated sigh, wanting to leave, her forehead leaned against my chest, her hands fisted in my shirt. “Why do you constantly destroy everything?”
I kissed her then, an act of possessiveness. It was forceful as if I was trying to show her I wasn’t destroying this.
“Do you think I like it when you kiss other guys?” I whispered, drawing back, my eyes finding hers. I held her face in my hands, and she stared at me. “Do you want them? Are they good for you?” I covered her mouth, not waiting for her answer. “You could be with me, you know that?” I mumbled against her lips, so quietly I wasn’t sure she heard anything.
“What?” she asked, her breath panting, her pulse pounding against mine.
Chest to chest, I held her tight, unwilling to let her go when I said, “I don’t want you kissing anyone but me.” I pressed my lips to hers, again, over and over again. “Don’t kiss anyone. . . but me. These fucking lips are mine.”
She cried. I felt the salt from her tears mixing with our kiss. “You mean it right now, Tiller, but when you’re gone again, in a different country, miles away, you’re with other girls.”
There was truth to her words, but what I didn’t see, and maybe I never would, was that she would never be mine. There’d always be other girls who kept my interest while I was gone, and she knew that. But not having her wasn’t an option.
Knowing what happened that night, how do you think I’m going to react now, knowing some other guy is offering to help her?
I want to make a scene, so I do.
I drag her by the arm, away from everyone, between trailers and shadows, but not completely out of sight. With a hand on her hip, I back her against the wall. “Why do you do this to me?”
Her heart hammers against mine, with mine. They beat as one, our worlds nothing the same. She doesn’t have words and shakes her head slowly, her eyes locking on madness she’ll never understand.
“Joke’s on you.” Confidently—knowing she won’t stop me—I grab her face with both hands and smash my lips to hers. It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, and I know it won’t be the last. I kiss her until her lips flush pink like the setting sun. I kiss her until she’s marked with my memory.
You might wonder why I act this way, or what it is us about her that keeps me coming back. It’s her wild, untamed and renegade love that keeps coming back.
The metal from my lip ring scratches her sweet soft lips as I nudge it hungrily open with my tongue, crashing through the walls she usually has in place around me. A soft moan releases from her lips, my kiss possessing her. There’s no fighting it. This need, the magnetic pull between us is like getting caught in a rut. It controls us, choses the line we’re going to take and we’re simply along for the ride.
If only she’d let me do more than kiss. Fisting my jersey in her hands she’s debating on pushing back against me, I can tell. Only something in her, the ambush of my kiss, stops her from doing so. I give a lot to the kiss, leaving her mouth burning with desire. When I part her lips over mine, she’s eager to respond.
You can see the effect I have on her, but do you notice what it’s doing to me? Do you notice my body shaking? I’ll tell you it’s from adrenaline, but would you believe me?
When my mouth parts from hers, it’s the rising and falling of her chest—the inability for her to catch her breath—that tells me she wanted it.
My body presses to hers, holding her wrists. Crudely, knowing I’ll get a reaction, I say, “Let me make your virgin pussy bleed.”
“No.” Her reply is flat and instantly delivered, but not truthful.
“Why do you think I tease you like this?” I ask, without thinking. Her pussy owns me, and I haven’t even tasted it yet.
She scowls, searching my eyes. “Because you’re mean, and I don’t think you even like me.”
“Or maybe because I do.” I raise an eyebrow, wondering if she understands the meaning and the way I put emphasis on I do.
“You suck at showing it.”
I shrug and take a step back. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
And then I walk away, leaving her in the shadows where we exist only in secret.
Cody’s by the Jett trailer with River again, still with the popcorn, and I hit the bottom of the bag with one hand. It crashes to the pavement. Reaching inside my riding pants, I adjust my aching cock and wink at him. “You give my girl popcorn again, I’ll break your jaw, motherfucker.”