CHAPTER THREE
CHERRY
My fingers grip the side of the mattress, and my lungs burn to keep up with my harsh breathing.
What am I doing in here? What the hell am I doing?
I shake my head and stand on shaky legs. I need to get out of here. Lip is hot, he’s sexy, and I know exactly why he wants me in here. I’m attracted to him, and not sure I’m strong enough to resist him either. There were a lot of beautiful women eyeing him out there. One in particular who had her paws all over him. They seemed more than acquainted, which makes me think he’s a player. There were a couple of guys who were with one chick one minute, and when I’d turn my head they were with another. I’d never seen anything like it before. They live so freely, so open.
I bet he goes through a different girl every night. I don’t want to be a notch on his bedpost. I can’t handle that right now. I’d better get out of here then.
I blow out a determined breath and stand. Looking at the dirty posters that have half-naked women on them one last time, I step toward the door. My hand is nearly inches from the doorknob when it opens as Lip walks in. I retract my hand and draw in a sharp breath. He smiles and shuts the door behind him. He’s so big, so rugged; he makes a flare burn in my chest and sizzle all the way down my abdomen and between my thighs. My eyes sweep up his tattooed arms, one bicep holding a woman praying, so vibrant and beautiful. His muscle flexes and my gaze continues to trail upward, finding a sexy smirk across his face. I blush; he just caught me checking him out.
“Thought you weren’t going to take off on me?” He chuckles and I smile, my heart beating against my ribcage. I rest my hand on my hip, the other on my forehead.
“Lip, I can’t. I can’t be in here,” I respond on an exhale, my body defying my mind. It’s hard to think clearly with him standing in front of me.
“Why’s that?” Lip tilts his head to the side, his eyes running along my body. Goosebumps lick up my spine with the way he assesses me. I tear my eyes away from him and try to gather my thoughts.
“Because I’m…” I cross my arms and look at the bed. “I’m- I’m not sleeping with you.” I finally spit the words out, wincing from my word vomit. He’ll surely want to take me back to my car now. Lip bites at his lip ring and sighs as he sets the beers down on the dresser next to him. I uncross my arms, and my body tenses with fear.
He stalks toward me, one hand grasping my hip while the other fits behind my neck. His touch makes my skin tingle. My eyes go heavy, making my rejection a weak statement. I want Lip, want him to ravish me, make me forget about my pain and drown in a sea of bliss and hard muscle instead. But opening my legs didn’t get me anything but trouble before.
“Cherry, calm down,” he breathes heavily. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” My body sags with relief, and a sigh escapes my lips. His fingers press firmly into my neck, pulling me closer.
“But if you think I’m not thinking about that fine ass of yours pressing against me while I take you from behind,” he nips my ear and my eyes roll in the back of my head, “then you’re mistaken.”
He pulls away from me, and I sway on my feet, my body lost in a tide of lust and sinful thoughts.
“What do you do for fun? Why are you picking pockets?” he questions. My eyes go wide with surprise, like he didn’t just fuck me with his words. I feel like someone just poured a bucket of ice over me, waking me from my high.
He takes a big gulp of his beer and winks. He’s teasing me, and I’m taking the bait. He’s so cocky, so sure of himself. He strides toward me and crosses his arms behind my neck. I slide one hand up his back, and the other up his arm to his wrist. My fingers touch his watch and I smile. Let’s see how self-assured he is when I take his watch.
“I pick pockets because I can’t get a job,” I lie. My chest burns with how easily it is to be dishonest. Well, it’s not entirely a lie, because I really can’t get a job. So it’s an omission, really.
“Okay, and what do you do for fun?” he asks.
“I like taking pictures of things.” I shrug. The passion started with a disposable camera, and it grew from there.
He slides his hands down my back and grabs me by the ass. My stomach clenches and my nipples perk against the material of my bra. Damn, to have his strong palms on me feels incredible. He puts Eric to shame. Eric who? I shake my head from my dirty thoughts and smack at his hands. He smiles wolfishly at my rejection and walks us backward ‘til we fall onto the bed. He rolls his strong frame, putting him underneath me with my legs straddling his hips. Yeah, this is not happening. I press my palms against his hard chest and roll beside him.
“Pictures, huh? Of what?” He tilts his head up and grabs the pillow, stuffing it under his head. I think about that question for a second.
“Everything. But I like taking pictures of distressed things, usually. I like to manipulate them, bring them to life where most people wouldn’t look for it in such a thing.”
Lip’s face softens. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds incredible.” I laugh at his reaction. Most people don’t see beauty in things around them. They only see faults and mistakes, often looking past their potential.
“What do you do when you’re not doing that?” he interrogates. I smirk and lift my hand, revealing his heavy silver watch.
“What the?” He brings his wrist up, finding it bare. “You sneaky little shit!” My cheeks flush and a smile splits my face. He’s so sure of himself, but when I take something from him without him knowing, it unravels that ego of his. “You’re good at that.” He chuckles, swiping the watch from my hand, and I shrug.
“Where did you learn how to do that? I didn’t even feel you take it off me,” he questions, putting it back on his wrist.
“My dad taught me. I didn’t live in the best part of town growing up, or have the best upbringing. Stealing food and belongings around the neighborhood to sell for money was something I was raised to do.” I look up from fumbling with my hands and see Lip’s eyes wide. My face goes stoic when I realize what I just fucking said. I close my eyes and curse myself. I can’t believe I just said all that to him.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. We didn’t struggle for food growing up, but my father was a piece of shit who took what he wanted. He made sure me and my brother learned that trait early on.” My head jerks up, surprised he shared something personal, too. He brings his gaze from the ceiling to me and pulls me close. The music from the party blares with such intensity the walls shake.
I rest my chin on his chest and look at the door. This man who lies next to me, a man full of many dark secrets and an edge as sharp as a serrated knife, makes me feel oddly safe. Maybe it’s because we’re both tainted with the horrendous upbringing our parents bestowed upon us. We have both seen hell at its finest, felt the warmth of its flames from a young age. Maybe if we stick together, we can find Heaven on Earth.
My eyes droop as the song “Kiss From A Rose” by Seal plays loudly from inside the main area. As if Lip notices the song too, his eyes slowly trail to mine. We lie here in silence, our lips mouthing the lyrics to the song every so often.
“Show me your horns.” Lip smirks.
“My what?”
“Your horns. I bet you look sexy as fuck rocking out.” He breathes heavily. I narrow my eyes, unsure what he means. I twist my lips. It’s a little childish he’s asking me to show him devil horns, but I do it anyways. I point my index fingers toward my head and he throws his head back laughing. My heart jumps in my chest and my cheeks flush.
“Not those horns. They’re more than visible,” he teases, lowering my hands. He pulls one of my hands up, tucking my middle finger and ring finger in with my thumb, making my index finger and pinky point straight up. “See, devil horns. The rockers do it.” He smiles.
“Oh, Devil horns,” I whisper. My brother does this all the time when he’s listening to AC/DC. I raise both my hands up with Devil horns, and stick my tongue out.
“Shit, you look hot.” He growls. “A girl rocking out, there’s nothing sexier. You just need a little bit of leather and you’d be a wet dream.” He winks.
I laugh, my cheeks warming. Noticing my embarrassment, he pulls me closer, easing my humiliation. Lying here, the song “Don’t Cry” by Guns N’ Roses blares. Listening to the song, I don’t fight back my yawn, exhaustion weighing heavy.
“Lip, I think it’s time you take me back,” I state sleepily.
“I’ve been drinking,” he mutters. “Just stay here with me.”
I lift off the bed, my heart pitter-pattering off rhythm. “Lip, that’s not a good idea,” I object. I can’t stay here with him; I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid. He’s stupidly good-looking, and I’m having a hard time not seeking more than comfort from him as it is. As much as I want to open my cold heart to him, to just be free, I’m afraid Eric has ruined me to let that flag fly any longer. I don’t trust anyone, and I surely shouldn’t trust a biker who has women flocking to him.
He stands and pulls his shirt above his head and my mouth snaps shut, my thoughts of … what was I thinking about? He drops his jeans to the floor and my eyes immediately dart to his boxers. I can see his length pressing against the material, and my body throbs at the thought of how big he might be. I look away. The lights turn off, and I feel hands grabbing at my shorts.
“Lip, I-I…” I stammer frantically, my body tensing. He shuffles my shorts down, ignoring the warning in my voice, his fingers tickling the skin along my legs as he pulls them off. “I cant, I’m—“
“Relax.” He laughs, climbing into the bed beside me. I don’t relax, though; my body is stiff from fear beyond belief. He brings the blanket up and wraps his arm around me, tucking me into his frame. He’s not trying to fuck me; instead, he’s tucking me into bed. My chest eases, and I exhale a ragged breath. I am shocked that he’s in here with me, not having sex, when he could be with one of those girls having lots of sex. He’s not what I expected at all. He’s sweet, sexy, and the right amount of rough around the edges.
I feel the head of his dick pressing at the small of my back, and realize it’s getting harder. He shifts and it pokes at my butt cheeks, and my body comes alive with desire, desperately wanting to just give in to temptation.
My breathing shallows, and my sex throbs with a dangerous craving of whatever Lip is offering. His cock presses into my back again, hard.
Is he poking me on purpose? I look over my side at him and he sits up, snatching the pillow at the foot of the bed, and wedges it between us. I turn, getting comfy on my side of the bed.
“Night, Cherry,” he whispers into the back of my head.
“Night, Lip,” I reply into the dark.
I try to keep my eyes open, attempting to defy the sleep stinging my eyes, but I can feel them getting heavier. No! I can wait till Lip falls asleep, wait till the party stops and find my way back to the freeway. Though we did ride a ways away from my car. I shift and blink a few times, trying to wake myself up, but my body soon takes comfort in the warm, solid muscle pressed against my back and the soft mattress beneath me. I easily fall asleep.
***
I wake to the warm sun shining on my face. Moaning, I stretch out along the bed and soft sheets. Bed. I’m in a bed. I sit up suddenly, remembering where I am. The Devil’s Dust club. I look around and find Lip missing. Shit. I close my eyes, and smack myself in the forehead. Why did I sleep in his bed last night? Why didn’t I have him take me back to my car?
Throwing the blankets off me, I search for my shorts and flip-flops. I hurry and put them on then open the door to sneak out. I smell eggs, and my belly growls; I haven’t had a decent meal in days. I cross my arms and curiously walk down the hall. The place is cleaner than it was last night. You can’t even tell there was a party here. I come into the main area and see Bull, Lip, and some other guys sitting around the bar.
Lip stands from his seat and walks up to me. He gently grabs my wrist and tugs me closer.
“You hungry?”
I look around him and find all the guys staring at me before quickly turning back to their meal.
“Yeah, kinda,” I lie. I’m so fucking hungry it’s taking everything I have not to rush over to one of their plates and shovel down their eggs.
“Take my spot. I’ll get you a plate.” He walks away, pushing through two double doors that I assume lead into a kitchen.
I slowly head to the stool Lip was sitting on and take a seat. Looking over, Bull smiles at me around a mouth full of food.
“You sleep good, darling?” Bull questions. His smile is so contagious and welcoming that I can’t help but smile back. He doesn’t seem nearly as intimidating in the sunlight.
“Yeah, I did,” I respond.
“Good. Good to hear,” he mutters.
Lip comes out and places a plate of eggs in front of me, and I instantly pick the fork up and start eating. Actually, I inhale them. Quickly.
“You want more?” Lip laughs, grabbing my plate. I glance up and see Bull eyeing me with a look of concern. I flick my eyes down to the clean plate and my cheeks warm with embarrassment. Shit, I should have paced myself or something.
“No, I’m good,” I mutter. I hop down from the stool and look around the room, finding two half-naked girls eyeing me from a black leather couch in the corner.
I glare at them. The guys might be a little scary, but girls don’t faze me. I’ve been known to bloody my knuckles a few times.
Lip grabs my hand and leads me back down the hall. My hand blazes with that familiar rush when he touches me. I close my eyes and gently pull it away before we reach his room. I need to get away from Lip. Far away. I am having a hard time telling him no to anything and need to put some distance between us before I regret it.
“I need to get back to my car before they tow it.” I scrunch my lips to the side and give a half-nod.
“About that.” Lip tucks his hands into his pockets. I shift my head sideways and lift an eyebrow. “I don’t like you staying in that car all day by yourself.” He shakes his head. “It’s not safe.”
I scowl. What does this guy think I’m going to do, sit in his room and play princess all day?
I purse my lips and give a curt nod. It’s nice that he cares, but that’s as far as that thought process needs to go.
“I’ll be fine. I can stay at my brother’s place,” I state, looking off. He doesn’t say anything, and tension rises. I finally look at him and notice his face is serious, lips in a firm line.
He flicks his brown eyes to mine. “Why don’t you just stay here?” He shrugs.
My mouth pops open in shock. My pride rises, overcoming any attraction I might have for Lip.
“I don’t need a man to take care of me,” I snap. “Take me to my car. Now!”
Lip’s head lowers with a loud exhale. He places his hands on his hips, and inhales slowly.
“You stay at your brother’s, Cherry.” He says it like an order, and it angers me. “Agree, or I’m not taking you back.”
I growl in frustration. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“Yeah, fine. Okay, I will,” I lie. There’s no way I’m going to Tyler’s; it’s too dangerous.
Lip steps into the room, grabbing his keys.
“Let’s ride,” he mutters. His words come out masculine, and hard, but there is so much meaning behind them. Revving me just right, I nearly moan in response. Instead, I bite my inner cheek, nearly drawing blood. God, he’s so rugged and alpha, it’s hard not to be attracted to him. I follow him out of the club and toward his bike. He lowers the heavy black helmet on my head, his fingers adjusting the chin strap while his eyes search mine. He has that look again, the one that makes me feel vulnerable. It’s as if he can see right down to my broken soul. It makes my chest tingle, and my toes curl into my foam flip-flops. He pulls his gaze from mine and throws his leg over his bike.
I climb on the back and wrap my arms around him, his fresh scent strong and refreshing first thing in the morning. The bike starts and the vibration rocks me. The sun is bearing down on my skin and the wind picks up, throwing my hair everywhere. I close my eyes and fly.
***
I climb off the bike and hand Lip his helmet.
“Well, it’s been fun.” I laugh sheepishly, obviously terrible at this. Lip chuckles and takes the helmet.
“Yeah. It’s been surprising; that’s for sure.”
“What’s that mean?” I tilt my head to the side.
“I just…” Lip looks out at the traffic of the freeway. “I wasn’t expecting someone as cool as you, is all.”
I smile and give him a soft punch in the arm. “You’re such a softie.”
Lip’s face goes serious, and he flexes his arm. “I’m not soft. Think you figured that out last night.” He winks and I roll my eyes. I knew he was poking me in the ass on purpose.
“Okay, stud muffin, I’ll see you around.”
“Bet your ass you will.” He starts the bike, and I head back to my car. My car that holds my broken dreams and heartache.
Lip flies past me, the smell of exhaust the only thing of him left. I unlock the door and roll down the windows; it’s hot as hell in the car. I plop down in the seat and blow a breath of air into my cheeks.
“Guess I’ll pick a different freeway, see if I can pickpocket some clueless bastard.” Another day, another wallet, or watch. I’m not sure where this will get me, but I’m also not looking at the bigger picture—just the here and now. Surviving, trying to live. If I’m dead, I’ll never be able to save Piper.
***
A loud knock wakes me and I jump from the front seat, my face stinging from the imprint of the shirt I used as a pillow on my face. The knocking sounds again and my head whips to the driver’s side window, the laundromat sign that was on when I went to sleep is now turned off. I rub at my eyes and lower my head to look out the window. It’s Lip. Shit! I roll the window down, a breeze of fresh air taking my breath away.
“So, where does your brother sleep?” Lip questions sarcastically. I roll my eyes and look out the front of the windshield. Lip darts his hand through the window and unlocks the door.
“How did you find me?” I ask, stepping out.
“Do you know how hot it is outside, not to mention in a fucking car with the windows rolled up?” I cross my arms, feeling like a scorned child. “You are a woman, and a sexy one at that. A guy sees you sleeping in there by yourself, you’re putting yourself at risk!” he hollers, then pushes me to the side and leans into my car.
“What are you doing?” I try to look around him, but he’s so broad, he takes up most of the front. He draws back out of the car, my purse and clothes in his hands.
“Enough of this shit. You’re coming to live with me.” He stomps past me and throws my things in his saddlebags.
“Lip!” I follow after him, my bare feet burning along the asphalt. “I’m not going with you. I’m fine. I-I don’t even know you, Lip. Hell, you don’t even know me. You can’t just walk into my life and demand—”
“You’re coming with me.” His words are stern, contradicting his behavior and vibe the whole time I’ve known him. The intensity coming off him makes me nervous. He’s obviously a control freak.
“And if I don’t?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“You will if I have to put you on the bike myself.” I cross my arms, my eyes burning with the urge to cry. Lip lets out a long sigh. He slowly steps up to me, both of his hands grabbing my elbows softly. “Let me take care of you-”
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I interrupt. He lifts his hand and trails the pad of his finger along my jaw line and my skin tingles, my heart beating faster.
“No, but you want me to,” he breathes heavily. My eyes flick to his, the depth of his brown eyes consuming me, devouring me, claiming me. “You’re strong and can take care of yourself; I get that. But if something happened to you, I’d blame myself knowing I could have done something—”
“I don’t need your sympathy, Lip. I can stay at—”
“Your brother’s, right. I remember you saying something about that before,” he sneers. “You’re coming with me one way or another. I’ll tow this damn car with you in it if I have to, so just agree and make this easier on both of us.” I turn my head and look at the closed laundromat, my vision blurry, dizzy from dehydration. I do need help or this heat is going to kill me. He obviously isn’t going to hurt me or he would have last night. Maybe a little reprieve from this heat will help me figure out a new plan.
“Trust me,” he mutters, his voice rough. My eyes shoot to his, his words searing through my resolve. I want to walk away, but the energy coming from him, that magnetic pull I can’t seem to escape, has me stilled. I’m like a butterfly attracted to a warm light, a light that shows the path of possibility. Hopefully, that light doesn’t burn me in the end, and possibly turn me into ashes. I’m not sure I can take any more heartache.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll follow you to your house.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, a sharp pain stabs at my chest. I am going to get hurt in the end. I just know it. He obviously wants more, but I’ll eventually have to tell him about my daughter and he’ll want nothing to do with me. Then this fucking car and I will be alone again.
“I’ll have one of the guys come get it, take it to the club, and see about getting some AC in it or something.” He shrugs, walking back toward his bike.
I huff and follow him. I’m one who practices independence, but I’m not about to argue with air conditioning.
***
Even with the sun down, the air is still warm as it swims through my hair. Lip coming on so hard is not something I’m used to. It doesn’t help that he’s sexy as fuck, and sweet to boot. He has this alpha thing going on when he thinks he knows what’s best for me. Even though it’s irritating, it’s flattering that he cares so much.
Lip slows down as we turn into a suburban area, houses lining up and down the road. They aren’t magnificent ones like those you might pass in some of the areas in LA, but they are nice compared to what I’ve lived in. He idles up to a light blue, one-story house with the porch light on.
He presses a button on a garage door opener and the door slowly lifts, loud and cranking with all its might. Inside there are shelves lined with tools, and what looks like a stripped motorcycle sitting on cylinder blocks in the center. Lip puts his feet on the ground and walks the bike and us into the garage, the door closing behind us. Climbing off the bike, I pull the helmet off my head, setting it on the seat.
“Well, this is home,” Lip states. I smile and follow behind him as he opens a door leading into the house.
The house smells of clean laundry and looks smaller than the garage. I smirk; just like a guy, more garage than house.
There are little lights in the ceiling shining just enough on the hardwood floor as he leads me down a small corridor.
“That’s the kitchen.” Lip points to the right. The walls look to be a light brown, the cabinets white and matching the appliances. A small kitchen island with two barstools sits in the middle of the room.
The house curves to the left, and Lip leads me into a small living room. The walls are white and lined with paintings of older motorcycles in black and white. A large flat-screen sits on a small wooden entertainment center in front of a brown fluffy couch and chaise lounge.
“Bathroom.” Lip points to a small room right in front of us. It’s nothing special, just a tub and sink. “This is my room.” He points to the left of the bathroom. I peer in and see a big bed with blue and gray blankets, plus clothes and beer cans on the floor.
“You can stay in this room.” Lip gestures to the room sitting opposite of his, putting the bathroom between the two. I step into the room he appointed as mine and Lip turns on the light. A small, full-sized bed sits in the corner with a white comforter. A little white dresser resides in the opposite corner, and a red guitar is placed on the other side.
“You play?” I question.
Lip shrugs and leans against the doorframe.
“Eh, I try but I suck.” He laughs, and I smile. Seeing Lip play rocker would be a sight.
Awkward silence fills the area between us.
“Well, it’s late. You were sweating pretty hard when I found you, so you wanna shower and get some sleep?”
I run my hand over the fluffy white blanket sitting on the bed. I never had something so fluffy before. Growing up, I had an old quilt that used to be my mother’s.
“That sounds great, actually.”
“I’ll go get your things then.” Lip turns to leave and I fall on the bed with a deep sigh. It feels wrong to be here, in a guy’s house I hardly know. But the cold air conditioning, the clean blankets, and company? It’s amazing.
I head toward the bathroom and shut the door. My body is nearly vibrating with excitement to dive into a nice, cool shower. I catch myself in the mirror and gasp. There’s a crease in my cheek from the shirt I was using as a pillow, my hair is sticking to my forehead from the sweat, and I have bags under my eyes. Damn, I look a hot mess.
I don’t even let the water get to its full heat before stepping under the showerhead. The cool water cascades down my chest and between my legs, and I can’t help but moan loudly. I grab the soap and squirt a shit load into my palm, and the smell of Lip invades the small tub. I close my eyes and inhale the tones of mint and spice before fingering it into my hair.
I shower till the water runs freezing cold. Climbing out, the bathroom door swings open and Lip crashes into me. I’m naked and wet and standing right before him, his arms full with a towel and what looks like a shirt. He lazily trails his eyes down my body and I swallow hard. I attempt to cross my legs and cover my chest when Lip suddenly drops the linens. We both lean forward at the same time to grab them and bump heads.
“Shit!” I wince. I grab a towel quickly and wrap it around myself as Lip turns his body, looking at the wall.
“Sorry, I thought you were still in the shower.” His words come out rough and heavy with lust. “I threw your clothes in the wash. You can sleep in one of my shirts tonight.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, clutching the towel around me tighter.
His eyes sweep toward me, giving me a once-over before turning and leaving.
My heart races in my chest and my hands shake with adrenaline as I shut the door. I lean over the sink, my fingers gripping the counter until my knuckles turn white. I raise my head, finding my reflection in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
I wait in the bathroom until the door to Lip’s room shuts. Peeking out, all the lights are off in the house, so I tiptoe to my room and shut the door. I look down at a Bud Light shirt of Lip’s that I’m wearing. It’s big; I’m practically swimming in the thing. I toss my head backward, the back of it hitting the door behind me.
“What am I doing?” I mutter, thumping my head against the door with each syllable. I really shouldn’t be here. Lip’s face flashes in my mind, the look of hunger flaring in his eyes when he saw me naked. I draw in a large breath and shake the image from my head. An unexpected yawn leaves my mouth when I lift my head and eye the extremely welcoming bed.
“Mmm. Sleep,” I mumble before I flip the lights off and drag my feet to the bed. Plopping into the sea of white cotton, I curl myself into the comforter and close my eyes. It’s going to be one of those nights where I’m too tired to think about anything else besides sleep.
Good.
“Goodnight, Lip,” I whisper into oblivion.
LIP
Sitting on the bed, I run my hands through my hair in distress. I have a chick in my fucking home. A chick I’m not banging, at that. I close my eyes, the image of her naked and beaded with water from the shower flaring behind my eyelids. She’s freckled. Little dustings of freckles scatter along her chest, perky tits and thighs. A growl rumbles up my throat as I think about it, my briefs becoming strained as my dick lifts at the thought of her pussy dusted with little freckles. Who knew I was attracted to that shit? Those long legs that peeked out from beneath her towel make me want to do things to her, images of them draped around my shoulders filling my mind as I wring my fingers together in frustration. I stand and cross my hands behind my head, releasing a long breath and trying to clear my mind of her sexy ass.
I’ve never not fucked a girl I’ve brought back to my place before. Hell, I’ve never chased a girl before. But she’s different somehow, and clearly needs help. I knew she was lying about her brother, I fucking knew it. But coming across her at the laundromat was pure coincidence. I was there picking up a leather cut of a patched-in member who got spray paint on it. Life of a prospect, I suppose—I get the bitch work. But it will be worth it in the end, I know it.
When I saw Cherry’s car sitting at the side of the building, I was pissed. I was saddened that she really didn’t have anybody, and I was also furious. It’s hotter than hell outside and she was locked up in that piece-of-shit car with the windows rolled up. I shake my head at the image of her sweating and nearly suffocating. Her grayish blue eyes do something to me. They make my chest anchor in the pit of my stomach, and my balls tighten at the same time. They are gorgeous yet hold so much sorrow and torment. You can tell just by looking at Cherry that she’s been through something rough.
My gaze trails to the door. I wonder if she’s asleep, or if she’s up still. I know it’s gotta be weird being in a strange guy’s house. Opening the door, my heart beats off-rhythm against my chest. With each step toward her door, my mind runs with confusion on what the fuck I’m doing. It’s quiet; maybe she’s asleep. I gently place my ear to the door, but hear nothing.
“Night, Cherry,” I whisper. I pull from the door and head back to my room, where I’ll jerk off to a feisty little ginger that plagues my mind.
CHERRY
A hand trails along my cheek, waking me from my sleep.
I moan and snuggle the covers into my chest. Deep laughter makes my eyes pop open with sudden awareness.
Looking up, I find a freshly showered Lip hovering over me. He’s wearing a black shirt that’s distressed to the point it looks white in some spots, and his leather vest over that. He smiles, and my eyes trail from his tattooed arms to his lips and up to his eyes.
“I got church this morning. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, so make whatever you want. I’ll be back when I can,” he informs.
“Church?” My eyes furrow in confusion. It’s not Sunday.
Lip lifts his head and licks his bottom lip, like he’s thinking.
“Umm. It’s not the kind of church you’re thinking of. The club, they meet in this room sometimes called a chapel. We have our daily meetings in it. Prospects don’t always attend them, but we’re to be present in case there’s something the patched-in members need from us,” he explains.
“Hmm. So how do you become a patched-in member or whatever it is you called it,” I ask, my voice husky from sleep.
“Gotta prove my worth, show ‘em I’ve got what it takes.” Lip looks off.
“Ah, okay.” Whatever that means.
“See you in a bit.” He grabs the covers and pulls them over my head playfully before leaving.
A half hour later, I finally pull my ass out of bed in search of some food. I find some cereal and settle with that. Walking around the place with a red bowl full of Lucky Charms, I survey my surroundings. It’s definitely masculine. It could use some color, a touch of feminism for sure. I risk stepping out of the front door, just needing some sun on my face. A small breeze shifts Lip’s shirt around my thighs. I glance downward, eyeing my bare legs. The bottoms of my feet are warm from the patio steps, and I wiggle them. I should probably get back inside before Lip gets a call that a half-naked chick eating cereal is standing at his front door.
Turning to head back inside, my eyes land on a cluster of purple tulips across the street at the neighbor’s house. They’re beautiful, with a splatter of white along the petals. I don’t think I’ve ever seen tulips like that before.
I wash my bowl and spoon and before I know it, I’ve washed all the dirty dishes. I don’t stop there, either: I wash the counters, pick up the dirty clothes, and take the trash out. I clean the whole house. It’s the least I can do after Lip invited me to stay here.
Hours later, I plop down on his extremely comfortable couch and flip on the TV, exhausted. Pulling the pillows from behind me to get comfy, bright pink stands amongst the fabric. My eyes widen as I pull one of the pillows out and more pink panties fall into my lap. Screaming, I fall backward off the couch, my legs and arms going every which way.
Growling in frustration, I pull myself from the floor and stomp to the kitchen. I grab some tongs I just washed and head back to the lacy panties. This proves he can have any girl he wants, that he is indeed a playboy. And what girl forgets her damn panties? I reach my arm out as far as it will go and pluck the underwear up with the tongs. Keeping my hand outstretched, I head toward the trash to dispose of them.
Throwing them in the trash, I can’t help but stare at them. As gross as it is, I find the playboy vibe hot.
“Jeez, get a grip, girl,” I mutter to myself, slamming the lid of the trash back.
After searching the couch for more crusty panties—thankfully, I found none—I watch Pretty In Pink, Riding in Cars With Boys, and Knocked Up one right after the other. I cry during each movie, but after watching that last one, I can’t help but sob uncontrollably. I miss my baby. I want my brother. I want someone to hold me and just let me cry it out, damn it!
I grew up strong and always pushing through the tough shit in my life. I just stepped over it and figured out what I needed to do next. I’ve never sat down and given myself the opportunity to feel bad for myself, and I sure as hell never depended on another to make me feel better. But I think that’s starting to hit max capacity, and I’m beginning to crack. Lip is making me depend on him, and my wall of emotionless independence is tumbling. I’m tired of being that strong female; I’m just exhausted and beginning to feel nothing but numb.
The front door opens and I quickly wipe the snot from my nose and rub at my tears. Shit. Shit. Lip is home. I have the TV so loud I didn’t even hear his motorcycle pull up.
Lip tosses his keys on the coffee table and stops. I can feel him eyeing me.
“You okay?” he questions, his tone soft.
“Um, yeah. Just a sad movie is all.” I glance at the TV that is now showing Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead. Go figure.
Lip looks at the TV and then to me, his eyebrow arching.
“They should have told their mom,” I mutter, turning away from his intense stare.
“The place looks great. You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he states, falling back into the couch. I pull my legs up Indian-style and shrug.
“It’s the least I can do after you let me stay here for a while.”
“I don’t mind the company.”
We sit in silence, watching the movie. Every now and then, I can feel his stare on my skin. I can’t help but eventually glance at him and our eyes meet briefly, my stomach fluttering with little butterflies. My eyes catch a tattoo that looks like bolts in the shape of an X of some sort, the word ‘PRIDE’ written under it in cursive.
“What?” My eyes shoot to Lip, not realizing I was sitting here gawking at his impressive arms.
“What is that?” I question, running my finger along the ink. He looks down at my finger and smirks.
“It’s a piston.” My brows furrow. What the hell is that?
Registering the confusion on my face, Lip chuckles and explains. “It’s a very important part of an engine. If it ain’t got it, it ain’t running.”
I nod, looking back down at the tattoo when I realize my hand is still resting on his strong arm. I peer under my lashes at him. “And what does pride have to do with that?”
“If a man doesn’t have pride, he ain’t going anywhere,” Lip replies, looking right at my mouth. A lump forms in my throat, and his eyes gleam with a gloss of desire.
I pull my hand away and clear my throat. Lip stretches out, running his hands down his jeans.
“You hungry?” Lip questions. I tear my eyes from the TV screen and nod eagerly, thankful for a distraction.
“Yeah, I could eat.”
“Let me see what we got.” He stands from the couch and my eyes sweep to his tight, jean-clad ass. The man has to work out with a body like that. I look down at my own, feeling incredibly insecure. I should tone up. I groan in frustration, feeling like a little girl sitting next to her crush. My heart is beating wildly, my palms are sweating, and I couldn’t even tell you what the hell we just watched.
“Um, Cherry?” Lip chuckles my name. I turn in my seat, finding him carrying a cup with the purple and white flowers I put on the kitchen island. “Where did you get these?” He smiles, and I can’t help but smile in return.
“Um, I may have plucked a few from your neighbor.” I scrunch my face in confusion. I got them when I took the trash out.
“I thought they looked familiar.” He shakes his head before returning them back to the kitchen. I hop up on my feet and follow him into the kitchen. He turns to face me and rests his hands on the counter behind him.
“She cleans, she decorates. Does she cook, too?” he teases. My lips purse and I look off.
“This place is so manly. It needed a female’s touch.” I cross my arms and look at the stove. “I don’t know how to cook, though,” I admit.
“Really?” He looks shocked. “What do you know how to cook?” I look up at the ceiling, trying to think.
“Um, I can put a pizza in the oven. Oh, those little dinners you put in the oven. Um—”
“Anything not in a box?” He tilts his head to the side and chuckles. I bite my bottom lip, a little embarrassed, and shake my head.
“Well, you’re in luck. I know how to cook everything.” He pushes off the counter and opens the fridge. “My family is Italian, and we take food seriously,” he informs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping away from the fridge. He draws back with a carton of eggs.
“Do you know how to cook eggs?”
“I mean, I’ve tried, but they always stick to the pan and burn. Or I get the shell in them, or I burn myself,” I ramble. Lip smirks.
“Eggs will be your best friend, rookie, because they’re easy to cook. We’ll start with those. My mom has a secret ingredient with her eggs; it makes them soft,” Lip states, grabbing a pan and placing it on the stove. His arms bulge and flex as he moves things around. He looks so big in a kitchen, his tattooed arms, and scarred knuckles standing out among the light. He looks used and abused, and for some reason I can’t comprehend, I crave to be the one to offer him a touch of softness, of care. The rose to his thorns.
“What is the ingredient?” I ask, poking my head over his shoulder as he digs into the cabinet. He slowly turns his head, his mouth nearly brushing my cheek, and my body instantly goes warm.
“If I told you,” he pauses, his eyes searching my face, “my mother would kill me.” I burst with laughter then step back and try to cover my mouth. He sweeps his hand through his hair and smirks. That sly smile he portrays has me squeezing my thighs together.
“I’m serious! My mom is a tough ole’ bird.” He laughs.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
He pulls his hand from the cabinet, holding a can of baking powder.
“That?” I point at the can.
“Yep. Also you need this, since it helps with the sticking.” He holds up a can of spray Pam, and my mouth falls open in a big ‘O’. “This pan doesn’t hurt either,” he tells me, shuffling the pan on the stovetop.
“What is it?”
“A non-stick pan.” I scrunch my lips to the side in a ‘go figure’ gesture. We couldn’t afford those fancy-ass pans growing up.
Lip sprays the skillet and grabs a bowl from the dish strainer. “Now, grab an egg.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and remove a cold egg from the carton.
Lip raises a brow and gestures his hand toward the bowl. “Well, crack it.”
I can do this. I can crack a simple egg. I bite my lip and slam the side of the egg along the edge of the bowl. The shell splinters, and pieces fall into the bowl along with the egg yolk.
“Shit! See, I told you I’m no good at this.” I shake my head, trying to pry the small bits of shell out, my cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Lip walks behind me, his thighs against the backs of mine.
“Like this,” he whispers into my ear.
My head gently falls backward as his words slide down my spine and buzz between my legs. My eyes go heavy with lust as I watch his hand rest on top of mine. He pushes my hand to grab an egg, and Lip gives a small amount of pressure on my fingers, gently tapping the egg along the side of the bowl and cracking it. His fingers lying on top of mine, we pull at the shell, prying it apart gently. The yolk gently plops into the bowl, no bits of shell in sight. My eyes skip from our hands to his eyes. He has that look, the one that sees right through me, to my soul. All the air is sucked from my lungs, and I can’t breathe when he looks at me like that.
“Now, grab just a pinch of baking powder and flick it in,” he mutters. My eyes fall to his lips closely and my mouth tingles, desperately wanting one of those earth-stopping kisses again.
“Okay,” I mumble. Breaking eye contact, I flick in the powder.
“Now, scramble it in the bowl then pour it into the pan,” he instructs. I do as he says, and I never burn myself. The spray Pam and pan worked wonders, because the egg never stuck. I take the egg and spoon it onto a plate, a smile on my face the whole time. I fucking cooked!
“Try some.” Lip hands me a fork, and I stab at a piece and take a bite. My eyes go wide, and a moan leaves my mouth.
“Those are the best eggs I’ve ever made,” I admit, stabbing at another piece and offering Lip a piece.
Smirking, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, slowly. My eyes watch his lips slide along the silver fork, his jaw flexing as he chews. A shiver runs down my back as I realize we just shared the same fork. I bite at my bottom lip, jealous the fork got to taste his sinful concoction.
Suddenly, Lip grabs the plate from my hands, placing it on the counter before he slams his mouth to mine. His hands palm my face and he kisses me harder. I close my eyes and return the kiss. The way his calloused hands feel on my face and the way he moves his mouth against mine has me falling apart. I wrap my arms around his neck, the fork still in my hand. His tongue slips between my lips and caresses along mine. He tastes amazing—sweet, yet spicy. I moan into his mouth, satisfied that my world of darkness has been shifted off its axis, even if it’s just for a moment.
My lungs burn with the need to breathe, but I don’t dare pull away. I want this, I need this, I crave this. The way Lip looks at me with such hunger, it’s a turn-on I can’t fight anymore. Strong palms trail down my sides and clasp along my butt cheeks, and I claw at his hard chest.
“Fuuuuuck,” he mutters on a shaky breath. Hearing the struggle in his voice, I can’t help but whimper. He pushes his hands up my shorts, trailing along the lace of my underwear, and I draw my head back and throw my leg around his waist. Everywhere he touches my skin tingles with a rush of excitement. His other hand skims up my leg and slowly up my thigh, and I can’t help but rock myself against him, needing some kind of friction to ease the ache.
Lost in the frenzy of lust, I moan loudly, the pleasure of his skilled hands on my skin too much to contain anymore. His eyes go wide at the same time I open mine and we part. I gasp for air, my skin tingling everywhere from his wandering hands.
He drops his head and blows out a ragged breath, and I sway on my feet as I seek the counter for balance. It’s as if north and south met in the middle. Every touch, every kiss I accept burns, melting the resolve I’ve built. Will we destroy one another, or make a new world with the pieces of each other?
“I’m going to shower,” he whispers. I nod, not speaking. We need distance. I need distance. Lip looks me over once more and I nearly moan just by the starved glint in his eyes. As if he’s just as affected, a low growl vibrates in his chest as he walks away.
***
After my own shower, I head straight to my room, drop on the bed and look up at the ceiling, scorning myself. Why can’t I get some control of myself? Why can’t I resist him? My mind is emotionally confused, my body is sexually frustrated and my soul is dying piece by piece. I’m beyond broken and lonely. I roll over and huff, my eyes landing on the guitar in the corner of my room. It makes me think of my brother, of how much I miss him. My eyes burn with sadness, and a sob hiccups through my throat. Sorrow fills my chest, and tears start to fall in earnest. I miss Tyler, and I miss Piper. I want my family.
I clench the blankets and bury my face into the pillow. I want my daughter badly, but every time I get close to her, I’m nearly killed. I need to accept that I won’t see Piper again, but a piece of me just won’t allow myself to move forward, even if I know it’s good for me. Eric. Fucking. McCormick. Why did I have to be so stupid and stuck on high school bullshit? I grab the pillow and shove it into my face again, screaming into it with rage. My knuckles burn from the death grip on the pillow, and my lungs gasp for air.
The door to the room creaks open, and the unmistakable shadow of Lip looms into the room. I wipe at my tears and open my mouth to explain my outburst but hands slide underneath me, picking me up before a word leaves my mouth. Hugging me into his chest, he brushes my hair away from my ear. A feeling of comfort, of ease creeps up my spine.
“I got you,” he whispers, the simple words stifling my pain. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face into him. My chest warms at the affection he displays toward me. I need this, need to feel protected and safe. To feel like my life is worth living, and fighting is not a waste of time.
He takes us into his room and tucks us into his bed, pulling me into his strong frame. I don’t fight him; I need this, as much as I may think I don’t want it. I need something to cure my broken heart, to help get me over this damaged path I’m on.
His arms are strong and gilded, and my body sags into him for solace. There is something about Lip that has me feeling tranquil. I don’t have to defend myself and build a wall, ‘cause Lip just tears that wall down. He stands there in his tattooed glory and controlling way, ready to show me the path of depending on another. He pulls me closer, nearly spooning me.
“I like to snuggle,” he growls into the back of my neck. A smile pushes through my sorrow. Big bad biker with piercings and tattoos likes to snuggle.
Closing my eyes, I take in the smell of him. Fresh, minty, and spicy. It’s odd; ever since I’ve laid eyes on Lip my heart has seemed to beat off-rhythm, but lying here next to him, our hearts beat in sync, a rhythm of their own that I have yet to understand.
***
Thunder strikes and I jump awake. Sweeping my eyes across the way, I notice it’s still dark outside, and I’m in Lip’s bed. He doesn’t look so…hard, when he’s asleep. He looks gentle. I cup his cheek, the scruff of it scratching against my palm. Is it so bad that I want to be with him, that I don’t want to be alone and surf in a tide of loneliness anymore? His eyes flutter open and pin me in their gaze. I hold my breath as he lifts his hand, his index and middle fingers brushing across both my lips. My body tingles everywhere, and my sex throbs with an intensity so strong I feel my hips trying to rock in rhythm to it.
I hitch my leg over his hips, and his cock instantly begins to harden against my thigh. My hands trail up his hard chest as his dick rubs against me just right. His hands grip my hips, and I literally hear his teeth clench together.
“Cherry,” he warns. My eyes dart to his, my heart beating a mile a minute that he’s rejecting me.
Thunder booms from above us.
“I’m afraid if I do this, I’ll never be able to let you go,” he whispers, his brows knitted together. My eyes widen, and a sly smirk fits my face. Playboy Lip wants me to himself.
“Who says you have to?”
Like a match finding its flame, he rolls over on top of me, his knees spreading mine apart. My fingers anchor themselves into his hair. I have to latch onto something because this man, the things he says, and the way I feel when his fingers barely graze my skin… it all feels too good to be true. Like this is a dream and I may float away at any moment and drop face-first into my reality of misery.
“I’m sure there is a rule somewhere that says I shouldn’t sleep with a man I barely know, but I just don’t care,” I mutter, curling his hair around my finger. I know I’m being reckless; the nerves in my chest can prove that. But the urge to feel desired, to feel Lip’s hands claim my skin is a stronger, more prominent craving.
“Something you should know about me, babe: I’m a rule-breaker,” he states, his voice coming out raw and seductive.
Leaning down, he nips at my underwear, his hands sliding up my legs. I bend at the knee and moan from the amount of pleasure I’m receiving with just the simple contact. I’ve never felt so worked-up before. With every touch of his skin against mine, I feel like I may explode in a world of euphoria. He brushes my shirt above my belly button with his nose as his hands travel up my hips. Pushing his fingers in my panties, he slides them against my wetness. I buck against him and close my eyes from the intense tingling sensation bursting through me.
“Fuck, you’re wet for me,” he whispers, the sound nearly making me whimper from the way it does things to me. It’s so powerful, so raw.
“Lip, I, uh…” Insecurities start to fill my chest, second thoughts firing in my mind. The first time I’d done this, I was wasted. I’m far from being shit-faced, and I’m feeling very inexperienced at the moment.
“What’s wrong?” He stills. My mouth dries as I try to think of how to say it.
“I’ve, um, w-well,” I stammer. “I’ve only had sex once before, and I was really drunk,” I finally state.
“So?” He shrugs, nipping at my knee.
“So, what if I’m- you know- not any good?”
He smiles. He fucking smiles.
“No fucking way you could be bad.” He shakes his head and looks down. I arch a brow, unsure what to say to that. “But I’ll go slow so I don’t hurt you.”
He slowly lifts his head, his eyes hooded. “I feel sorry for that last prick you were with, ‘cause now that you’re opening your legs for me, I’m about to be the last man to be between them,” he states, his tone deep and serious. My heart thuds with attraction. His words are so proud, so confident, and I fucking swoon.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?” I joke. Lip pushes himself up from my belly and rests his forehead on mine, his eyes not giving anything away.
“Cherry, I’ll be your last ‘cause I’ll fuck you like no man can compare. I’m not being arrogant, I’m being honest. When I’m done with you, you’ll have a hunger for my cock like a starved woman. Now let me fuck you, ‘cause that’s all I’ve wanted to do since the day you took my wallet.”
My lips part and a weak mewl escapes. God, that’s all I’ve wanted, too, and my body can’t take the torture of having such rugged sexiness within reach anymore.
He inserts a finger into my wetness, testing me, and my pussy instantly pulses around it. He turns his hand and flexes his finger in a ‘come here’ motion, and stars shoot behind my eyelids. My hands cling to his broad shoulders and my toes curl from the pleasure.
“Jesus, I can feel you clench around my finger,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
My hips ride his finger like a wave. I need that unfamiliar feeling of bliss; I want more of it.
He slowly withdraws his finger and my eyes pop open, finding his focused solely on me.
“Seeing you fuck my finger like that, I can’t wait to watch you ride my dick, Cherry.” The air is zapped from me, and my lips part to allow a large breath to enter. He has a filthy mouth, but his words make me feel so good. He slowly drags my dainty panties down my legs, the slow pace throwing my senses into hyper-drive. Grabbing me by the knees, he pulls them apart, spreading me wide. He looks at my pussy, his chest rising.
“I want you to ride my tongue like you did my finger,” he instructs.
I can’t speak as fear fills my chest. What if I taste bad?
He lowers his head, his hands on my bent knees, and laves at my wetness.
“Oh, God!” I moan loudly. It’s so wet and warm. Every strike of his tongue shoots an unfamiliar sensation from my core through each of my limbs.
“You can call me Lip,” he rasps confidently from between my thighs, the sound vibrating against my sensitive skin. I clench my eyes and gasp for air as my body winds up with an incredible sensation. My fingers dig into his shoulders as my hips grind against his face.
He pulls up, my wetness shining against his stubble.
“Not yet,” he growls, stopping just before my body erupts into a thousand little pieces of sexual need. He seems anxious, like he can’t handle it anymore. Sitting on his knees, he lifts me up and pulls my top off frantically. My nipples pebble against the air. I wrap an arm around his neck, my tits pressing into his hardened chest firmly as he places one hand on my back and lowers us.
He smashes his lips to mine, the taste of me filling my mouth. I arch my body into his and pull my mouth away to grant my burning lungs a breath of air. I wrap my legs around him, his hard length pressing right against my opening. I can’t help but rock against it. I want it badly—desperately, even.
“That’s it,” he growls.
“Lip,” I breathe heavily. I can’t take this torture anymore. I know I should resist him, shouldn’t even be here let alone in his room, but with the look in his eyes when he watches me, the wolfish smile across his handsome face, and the way his fingers shoot a toxic wave through every nerve ending of my body, I can’t push him away anymore. I am weak, I am hurting, and I just want to feel good for one damn minute.
He slowly places me back down on the bed and pulls his boxers down to his knees.
Oh. Fuck. His dick is pierced. My eyes flick to his, and he smiles wolfishly, his expression full of ego.
“You on the pill?” he questions. I nod; I’ve been on birth control since I had Piper. Thankfully for me, they give those with low income—or, in my case, no income—free birth control.
“Good, cause condoms break every time I use ‘em,” he informs. My eyes widen with that statement.
He grabs my knees and positions the head of himself right against me. My heart beats wildly. What if it hurts?
I draw in a tight breath as he pushes the head of his dick inside of me. He stretches me as he pushes all the way in, and I whimper. It burns, my body not used to the size of him. However, the pleasure of him filling me binds with the ache of him stretching me. I can’t decide if I want to whimper with pain or moan with satisfaction.
He throws his head back and groans, the sound vibrating through his body. His palms slide along my thighs and up my stomach, the simple action causing the muscles in my stomach to tremble. He hisses between his teeth and applies just enough pressure on my left nipple that a deep, whole-body sigh sounds from my mouth.
He pulls his hips back slowly and thrusts forward, and my lips form an O as that feeling of bliss instantly starts to resurface.
He gently kneads my tit and lowers his body on top of mine, our bodies trapping his hand on my breast. I clench my eyes shut and don’t hold back, moaning as loudly as I can as pleasure erupts in my lower half.
“Damn, I love that sound,” he grits through clenched teeth.
His hips keep pulling back and driving forward, the barbell in the head of his cock hitting me just right. I try to breathe but the air just won’t enter my lungs as I ride the tide of my orgasm.
My body pulses and clenches around Lip as I come down from my cloud of ecstasy. He shudders on top of me, and his warm cum fills me.
Lightning strikes, lighting the room briefly. Our chests rise and fall rapidly as we just lay here in elation. He rolls over and pulls the sheet with him, covering his wet dick.
Awkward silence fills the room. I brush my hair away from my face and rub at my forehead. Regret surfs through me. What did I do? Why did I do that?
“You okay?” Lip whispers. It’s like he can read my fucking mind.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.
He rolls over and pulls my bare ass against his still-hard cock.
“You’re something else, Cherry,” he whispers. I smirk as regret and second thoughts vanish. My brows narrow at the reaction, not sure what it means.
“Cherry? That guy you slept with before, is he the reason you’re hurting so bad?” Lip whispers into my ear. My body tenses, and my eyes widen. “I’d kill him, if it makes you feel any better.” I shift, turning to look him in the eyes, and find him staring right at me, dead serious.
“I’m not sad about him,” I sneer, shaking my head.
“Then what? What makes you cry at night?” he pushes, brushing hair from my face. I inhale a large breath. If I tell him about Piper, this could be over before it even starts, and I don’t need him trying to rescue me and making it worse in the end. Eric could hurt Piper just to keep her from me; he’s unpredictable.
“You’re right. It’s about him,” I backtrack. I mean, he is somewhat the reason I’m sad. “He just…he didn’t treat me right. He lied and betrayed me,” I continue, my brows slicing inward with anger the more I think about it.
“Where I come from, betrayal gets you six feet under,” he rasps. I roll back over and exhale. Obviously, my world and Lip’s world are incredibly different, because instead of Eric being six feet under, it was nearly me.
“He’ll pay his dues, Cherry.” Lip’s words come out as a promise, and I clench my eyes. I don’t respond, because I just want this conversation to be over.