Page 38 of Misguided
Mel ducks, slipping around the side of our skirmish to shield the kid who now openly cries at what’s going down. She turns her hate-filled stare on the guy as I rub the ache out of my arm. “Nice.” She shakes her head, lips pursed. “Way to make an impression on a kid, jackass.”
I stand stunned as she shepherds the girl down the adjacent aisle and back to the front of the store.
The owner thrusts a thick finger my way as I nonchalantly take the last bite of pie. “Get out before I get your ass arrested.”
“What the fuck for, asshole?” I sneer as I drop the pie packet to the floor and pull out my wallet. He lifts the gun; clearly assuming I’m reaching for a weapon. I lift the leather billfold and pull a stupid face at him. “Here.” I rip out a twenty-dollar bill and toss it down with the wrapper. “Keep the change.”
Mel’s hot on my heels as I stride out of the store. Her heavy breathing as she bears down on me rivals the thud of my boots on the pavement.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” she hollers, stepping in front of me and thrusting both palms into my chest.
“You think that was my fault?” I yell back, hand jutted toward the store.
She frowns, her mouth turned down at the corners. “You could have handled it better.”
“He pointed the goddamn gun at you!”
“So fucking what?” She throws her hands in the air.
“So,” I seethe. “He could have fuckin’ hurt you.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners, just the barest twitch as she stares me down. “Why does that bother you, Dog?” she whispers.
The mid-morning breeze kicks up the ends of my hair as I stare deep into those fucking haunted eyes of hers and ask myself the same thing. Ten minutes ago, I couldn’t stand the fact she was on my bike, let alone anywhere near me. Now?
“Because …” I hesitate, trying to understand why my nose tingles the same as when I cry. “It fucking hurt my heart to think how that would feel.”
She swallows.
I blink.
A car pulls out of a park nearby.
And it feels as though the whole world waits for us to admit the truth of what we’re fucking denying.
She parts those lush lips, her frown pinching a little tighter, and I swear I hear her acceptance of how undeniable this is in the silence that hangs between us.
“Say somethin’,” I utter. “Otherwise I’ve got no reason not to.”
I don’t need to say what; she knows what as well as I do. She remains silent, the tip of her deep pink tongue peeking out to wet those fucking lips.
I’ve never known longing to hurt this much. My hands find her face, and she pushes into my hold as I take that lush lip between mine and close my eyes at the insanely amazing feel of it pinched in my hold. Her mouth moves against mine, and there’s no denying that her idea about giving us time is nothing but a fallacy, a lie we told ourselves to justify the intensity of what we feel.
A week ago I thought this girl was dead, gone forever, and that pain left a hole in my heart that needs fixing. I can’t think of anything sweeter to fill the space with, than her love.
Mel’s hands slip onto my waist, her fingertips pulse against the taut muscles in my back as I lean down and press into her, deepening, searching for more.
For everything.
Her tongue sweeps across the tip of mine, and I tilt my head to devour this twisted little woman. If I could consume her, encase her in how sure I feel, let that confidence bleed into her, fuck, I would.
I’d give her all of what I’ve got just to see her dance her way into a room and destroy everyone with a smile one more time.
She pulls away, panting, tears fresh on her cheeks as she ducks her chin to hide the force of her feelings. “I …”
I hold my breath as she swallows, waiting for her to find the words, praying they’ll be good.
“I what, Mel?” My hands tighten on the sides of her face, coaxing her eyes back up to mine.
She twists her head in my hold and lays a gentle kiss on my palm. “I don’t know what to do next.” She lays the most adorable, shy smile on me, her eyes searching for an answer in mine.
I’ve got nothing. This journey with her is so far off my well-worn roadmap of women, that it’s beyond a fucking joke.
“Don’t really know,” I say, releasing her from my hold and tapping an index finger under her chin. “But if there’s more of that involved I’m down for it.”
She rolls her eyes and grunts, clearly frustrated with the return to smartass Dog, but also a little tickled at the idea. Hell, she’s not the only one.
I adjust my jeans and clear my throat as I nod toward the bike. “Guess we should carry on then, huh?”
She smoothes her shirt down, eyebrows raised as she stares vacantly at the ground. “Yeah. I guess we should.”