Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Lucas

This shit is fucked up.

So fucking fucked up.

Why can’t I walk away from this chick? The rabid need to have her, to touch her, to claim her, supersedes everything else, and that shit is insane. I know that logically.

My knuckles are bloody and sore as I turn to face Wyn. Fear flashes in her eyes, and that gives me a surge of satisfaction. She should fear me. I’m not safe for her.

Flexing my hands, I move to my pile of clothes and start tugging them on. Blood drips everywhere, but I don’t give a fuck. I need to get out of here, away from Wyn.

“Lucas,” she says quietly, that lilting voice cutting through my anger like piss through snow. “Why are you being like this?”

Tugging my shirt over my head, I pull it down over my torso and turn to her with a scowl. “This shouldn’t have happened,” I bite out.

When she doesn’t respond, my gaze darts to her, which I instantly regret. She’s still sitting on the bed, naked, her petal-pink nipples beaded and begging for my tongue.

Fuck!

Abruptly, I turn away and grab my shoes off the floor. “I can’t fucking do this,” I say, shaking my head.

“ You can’t fucking do this? ” she repeats, her voice rising. “You’re the one that started this, Lucas! You stalked me, remember? And now, what, it’s too much for you?! Fucking grow a pair, dude!”

I whip around to face her. The fucking audacity of this chick. No one—and I mean no one —talks to me like that without expecting a trip to the fucking Panic Room. But as I look at Wyn, the regret I expect to see in her expression is nonexistent. She’s unflinching, anger snapping in those beautiful moss-green eyes.

I drop my shoes and stalk toward her. “What did you just say to me?”

She rises onto her knees, her eyes narrowing. “Grow. A fucking . Pair,” she says slowly, her tone dripping with venom.

Lunging at her, I wrap my fingers around her throat, pushing her back on the bed, my large body pinning her down. I squeeze, not enough to cut off her air, but hard enough to scare her. Only she doesn’t look scared. A faint smile spreads across her lips, and I swear to God, I’ve never felt I’ve wanted to kill and fuck someone so badly in my life.

My cock is hard again, and I shift my hips, so the hard ridge of my erection is pressing against her pussy through the fabric of my jeans. She whimpers a little, and that delicate, fleeting sound is like a siren’s call that slithers around my resolve and devours it.

My fingers loosen, and I dip my head, inhaling her sweet, flowery scent. Goddamn. How can one person make me feel so out of control? If she were any other chick, I’d get up and walk out right now. No problem.

And if I left here still wanting to fuck, I’d have my pick of any number of chicks. It’s not cockiness, it’s a fucking fact.

But Wyn…

She’s different somehow and I don’t understand why. I wish I fucking knew.

I drag my lips across her flushed cheek, and her breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed. Like a magnet, my hand finds her breast. I squeeze it, my thumb teasing the tight peak. God, the bliss of her body…

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, my voice hitching. It’s a rare moment of weakness for me, but I need to understand. I need to know why . Why is she determined to lead me down a path that can only lead to our mutual destruction?

“I’m not doing anything,” she answers.

I want to laugh at that. When I lunged at her a second ago, instead of fear, I saw a brief flicker of excitement in her eyes. This bitch knows exactly what she’s doing.

My lips brush over hers and with a growl, I kiss her, my tongue pushing past her moist lips. I swallow her moan, drinking it in, taking it into my dark soul. I plunge my fingers into her hair and cup the back of her head, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper.

Take care of my girl.

My cousin’s words echo in my head, and I jerk back, breaking the kiss abruptly. Her eyes fly open, and she looks up at me with a question in her eyes. I straighten and move off her, standing.

Fuck.

I can’t do this.

The guilt is too heavy.

Raking my hand over my face, I turn away from her. “I have to go,” I say out loud, more to myself than to her. I walk over and grab my shoes, then head for the door.

“Fucking coward.”

You’d think she’d say something like that as an insult. Fling it at me in anger as I walk out the door. But it’s worse than that. Her voice is low, almost like she’s saying it to herself, and that’s what gets me. The quiet conviction in her voice.

She isn’t wrong.

I’m afraid of how she makes me feel.

Deathly afraid.

I say nothing, shoes in my hands, and walk out the door. As it clicks shut behind me, I close my eyes and pull in a lungful of briny air. All I need to do is take one step forward, then another, but, fuck, why is it so hard?

Opening my eyes, I clench my jaw and walk to my car before I change my mind and head right back into Wyn’s apartment. Physical distance is the only way I can combat this intense need for her—and even then, she’s inside my head every minute of every day.

This is addiction. I’m a fucking junkie when it comes to Wyn.

As I start my engine, I slam my fist against my steering wheel and scream “Fucking idiot!” at the top of my lungs. My hand is still bloody, and it stings as my palm collides with the steering wheel, but I want the pain. I crave it. It’s a split-second distraction from my fucked up reality.

With a jerk of the wheel, I peel out and head to Rush House. I find Christian, Jackson, and Roman in the study, standing around, talking about something. They go quiet when I walk in, each one of them turning to me.

“Yo!” Christian says. “You haven’t been answering your texts. Where’s Gabriel?”

I lift my chin. “After we finished up at the Sheriff’s Station I dropped him off at his mom’s place.”

Christian looks confused, one brow shooting up. “Wait, didn’t she move?”

“Not until next week.”

Jackson and Roman start moving toward the door, ready to head over. As they walk out, Roman stops to slap me on the shoulder. He glances at my bloody knuckles. “You doin’ okay? This has to be a shock for you.”

I nod, looking down at the polished wood floor. “Yeah, no joke.” I glance up at my best friend. “This shit is…” I shake my head.

I don’t know what to feel. All I know is that Gabriel coming back complicates things with Wyn. I feel like such a selfish bastard admitting that, even to myself, but it’s the truth.

“Yeah,” he says, slapping my shoulder again. It’s the equivalent of a bro hug. “I get it, dude. I do. And I guess this means you’re off the hook for his murder.”

I shrug a shoulder. “Sure, yeah. I guess so. I haven’t even talked to my lawyer yet, but seeing as how Gabriel isn’t dead…”

Roman moves toward the door. “You want to ride over together?”

“Nah,” I say. “You go ahead. I have some shit I need to take care of. I’ll head over in a minute.”

As soon as the guys are gone, I head upstairs to my bedroom. I need to take a shower and get my head back in the fucking game. And somehow, I need to purge myself of Wyn Barker…