Chapter Twelve

Cliff

Why would she say that? The horror in her expression leaves me certain she didn’t mean to.

And reality comes crashing back.

I don’t know this girl. Not really. And here I am with my face between her thighs, loving every second of tasting her, pleasuring her, hearing her moans and sounds of ecstasy.

I back off and get to my feet. She sits up, grabbing for her pants, her face bright red with shame. I want to comfort her, but what the fuck do I say? I’m sorry you’re embarrassed but not that I just made you come all over my face?

Fuck.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say, and she looks up at me in something akin to shock. She says nothing but nods quickly. I walk away and head to the kitchen, needing to figure out a way to release the pressure I’m feeling.

I have a feeling a cold shower isn’t going to do it. Neither would a hundred push-ups. I’m beyond those fixes.

Damn it.

***

It’s been a week since I took her down on the couch. I’ve been careful not to do anything so stupid again. We’ve been sparring, and she’s learning fast.

Right now, she’s sleeping on the other side of the wall and I’m itching to fight. I slide out of bed and head to her room. Pushing the door open silently, I feel her tense and know she woke up.

She feigns sleep and I move closer, ready to catch her if she springs. When she stays put, I realize she must have learned from last time. I walk up and haul her out of bed, and she’s quick to bring a fist straight to my throat. Her balled-up fist touches me without impact, and I stand up and at ease.

“Well done,” I growl, and she thanks me in the dark.

Suddenly, I feel her shift and know she’s on her feet. Her arms come around my neck, and I rear back, trying to get out of reach. I know what she’s doing. I grab her hips to push her away.

“Stop,” she orders, and I hesitate.

Then, her lips are on mine, warm and welcoming, demanding and sweet. She’s begging me for more, but I just can’t. I can’t do it.

Breaking the kiss, I whisper against her lips. “I told you not to get attached.”

She releases me.

There’s only silence between us, and I realize I need to leave for a while. I need space. Need to get the hell away from her before she makes me lose control.

Again.

“I need to go on a trip,” I say, and she stays silent. “You’ll be safe here.” She hasn’t left, and no one has seen her. She’s dropped off the radar. The only thing I’ve done is reach out to her parents and let them know she’s safe. They deserve to know. If she’s mad at me for it later, so be it.

“Okay,” she whispers, and I turn to leave, pulling her door closed behind me.

Ten minutes later, I’m in my truck, speeding toward LA. Last time I made this return trip, I’d been keeping her on the road. The day gives way to night, and I drive like the devil is on my heels.

The drive slips away, and I think about Addie. It’s amazing how life threw us together on a lonely road in the middle of the night.

If I was a romantic, I’d say it was fate.

Speaking of a romantic… I pick up my phone and call Dakin, setting it to speaker as I drive. He answers on the second ring.

“’Bout time you called, bro,” he says.

“Guess your fingers are broken?”

He laughs. “That’s fair. What’re you up to now?”

“Driving to LA.”

He sounds perplexed. “Zac said you’re taking a vacation.”

“This is personal.” The ominous words echo between us, and I hear him sigh.

“Need help?” he asks, his tone dangerous. This sounds like the Dakin I remember. The one who was willing to charge into battle for his friends. Who knew sometimes doing the right thing meant getting dirty. Maybe I’m not being fair.

“I’ve got this,” I say. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, man.” There’s something else in his voice. “Is there anything else?” he asks, and I feel my hackles rise.

“Spit it out,” I growl. This beating-around-the-bush shit annoys me.

“Oh,” he says. “Something Zac said. He thinks you’re in trouble.”

I lift my chin, anger eating at my gut. Why the fuck wouldn’t Zac come talk to me about this shit? Or is this a warning of sorts?

“Keep him the fuck out of my place,” I grind out, worry digging at me. The cops still want to question Addie. And if he walks into my place, she’ll fucking shoot to kill. She doesn’t need to kill a cop on top of everything she’s going through. “Nobody is to go in my apartment.”

“What’s going on?” Dakin demands.

“Just fucking trust me. I’ll explain later, okay? If anyone goes in my apartment, they’re dead.”

“Understood,” he says.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll explain things then, but I need you to come as friends, not fucking cops and shit.” That’s all Addie needs. A fucking gang of motherfuckers intimidating her. She needs friends. A support system. Not more fear.

“Take care of yourself, brother,” Dakin says, and we hang up.

I drive toward Arlo’s house, a sense that it’ll all be okay settling over my senses. I trust Dakin, even though he’s gone soft. I focus and pull everything I am into this trip and what I’m about to do.

This son of a bitch Arlo is going to get a pavement facial for what he did to Addie. When I’m done with him, his face won’t draw the ladies in anymore.

He’s never going to hurt another woman again. I’m going to make sure of that. And I’ll be watching even when I’m two states away.