Loving Me, Trusting You (6 page)

“Then as a friend, I'm worried about you.” Gaine pauses and licks his lips, looking around the room like he's trying to sort out rival spies from the local clientele. “How did you … take care of Walker?” I laugh and the sound isn't pretty. I wish I could laugh like my
mamá,
toss my head back and not care that I'm broke and single and alone, just let my hair hang and smile while the sound of bells peals from my throat.

“I'm not talking about that with you or anybody else. Now leave me the fuck alone.” I close my eyes and let my lashes rest on my cheek, sipping my drink and swirling the liquid around on my tongue. I swallow it quick and try not to choke as my mind conjures up images of Walker lying unconscious in a pool of red. I can't decide if it's a dream or a nightmare.

“You sure you don't want to party it up with us?” Beck asks, appearing out of nowhere behind my left shoulder. I ignore him completely, but the man can't take a hint worth crap. “Couple of the college kids are home for the summer and want to live it up with some real, live bikers.” He winks at us and flicks his tongue over his lower lip. “Couple of good lookin' fellas over there and a few girls that'd make their mamas cry if they saw the skirts they were wearin'.” I turn to glare at him and spot the group surrounding the table next to Mel. She's flipped a nice, little 180, grinning and pulling at the silver hoop earrings she's been wearing for days. The bitch is as shallow as a puddle and half as deep.
Figures. If anybody could get over the death of their husband and the surprise of his betrayal in less than a week, it'd be her.
Not that I think Mel is over hurting. Pain doesn't disappear that fast, no matter how far you go or how fast you run. I should know better. I'm the one that got raped by my own husband.

My hand clamps around my beer and I spin away from Gaine, snatching my coat and sashaying over to the group. There are a couple guys with big shoulders and easy grins, a girl in a trench coat that hits her mid-thigh and does little to hide the tattoo on her left leg, and a set of skinny bitches in slinky red and black dresses that don't exactly look like they belong here in Wilkes, Small Town, USA.

“You guys looking to have some fun?” I ask them, liking the way their gazes turn towards me and sweep me up and down and back again, absorbing, glorifying what and who I am with a single glance. I smile.

“We want to take a ride on your bike,” one of the guys says unashamedly. He has nice eyes and bright blonde hair, but he's stupid as shit. I can already tell. I nurse my drink and bite my lip, noticing the way his gaze holds on the line of cleavage peeking up above the neckline of my gray wife beater. I like this old thing, even if it's riddled with holes and twice as old as I am.

“I don't do joyrides, kid,” I tell him, pushing Melissa over with my hip. She gives me a strange look but moves anyway, propping her hand on her chin. Gaine and Beck follow us over and only one of them is smiling. I'll give you a single guess.

“Mireya, I ain't done talking to you yet,” Gaine says, not caring that he's being eye fucked by all six of the college girls. I keep drinking my beer and ignore him.

“You have such a sexy voice,” says the chick in the trench coat, touching his arm with her fingers. Gaine ignores her, keeping his eyes on me. “You're not from around here, are you?”

“This stupid fucker is from New York City,” Beck shouts with an ugly belly laugh. “Thinks if he pitches his voice to match mine, he'll be hotter than two rabbits screwin' in a wool sack.” The girls start tittering and reaching out to poke at Beck's massive biceps. He, of course, laps up the attention like a dog in heat.

“You going to give us a ride or what?” says Trench Coat Girl. I rest my chin on my folded fingers and examine the rose tattoo she's got climbing up her leg like a trellis.

“We'll give you a ride, sweetheart, but it's not going to be on a bike.” The boys whistle and a couple of the girls snort with laughter, but this girl, the redhead with the twisted smile doesn't seem to mind. I look over at Gaine and push myself to my feet, enjoying the sway of a body slowly succumbing to bitter, brown poison.

I lean in close to Gaine's ear and brush my lips against his lobe. There's a small scar here that slices through his flesh and leaves a jagged, red mark. I have no idea where it came from, but that doesn't stop me from running my tongue across it, tasting the sweaty salt of his skin with a gentle flick.

“If you want to talk to me, you'll play with me first.”

“Like hell I will,” he growls back at me, but as soon as his hand comes up and his fingers brush the bare skin of my shoulder, he pauses and leans into me. He doesn't mean to do it; it just happens. “What do you want from me, Sawyer?” I suck in a cloud of cigarette smoke and the heady scent of booze, breathing out against Gaine's neck and watching as the hair on the back of his hand stands on end. And I'm sure it's not the only part of his body that's standing at attention.

“A night of fun, a frozen slice of reality where pain doesn't exist and pleasure reigns king. Can you do that for me?” A part of me realizes I'm not playing fair, that I'm stretching Gaine to his limit. He's not Austin or Beck; Gaine doesn't pick up random fucks. I
love
that about him. I admire him even though I don't understand him, yet I just keep doing what I'm doing and I don't know why. Do I want him to hurt as much as I do? No. I just don't know how to stop. “Play with me tonight and I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“And you'll listen?” he asks, voice gruff and kind of breathy, like he doesn't know what to do with the air in his lungs if he isn't kissing me. I pull back and look him in the face, lean forward and breathe in the scent of oil and dirt and masculine spice. I press a kiss to the spot below his lip where he used to wear a piercing. He hardly wears it anymore, but I think it's hot. I wonder if I can convince him to put it in again?

“I'll hear you out,” I promise as Gaine pulls back a bit and then tangles his fingers in my hair, kissing my mouth so hard it hurts. I can taste his desire and his need on his lips, hot and spicy, so bright it burns my tongue and brings a drip of sweat rolling down my chest and between my breasts. There's a flash of jealousy inside of me and for an instant, I think maybe that I don't want to share.
Ridiculous, Mireya. You know booze makes you sentimental.
I ignore that blip of thought and pull back, turning around and touching my fingers to the side of Trench Girl's face.

“What's your name, butterfly?” I ask her, watching as her friends stare in open fascination, drinking me in like I'm an exotic spice, something flavorful and forbidden.

“Crystal,” she says, her lips parting like a flower, half in surprise and half in desire. I can see the way she's staring at Gaine, eyes catching on his rounded biceps, his flat chest, the square lines of his pecs beneath the tight cotton of his T-shirt. The fabric's stretched over his body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. I can even make out his belly button from here. I follow Crystal's gaze and then touch her mouth with a single finger, bringing her eyes back to mine. They're pale and colorless, like glass, with tiny flecks of green, a nice match to that headful of red hair.

“Do you like Gaine, Crystal?” I ask her as I move my hands down and unbutton the clasps on her jacket. She reaches up her fingers to stop me, but then pauses when she sees him start backing away towards the door.

“He's cute,” she says which nearly pulls a scowl from my mouth. I almost want to shove her back and pick somebody else. Cute? Gaine isn't cute. He's young and cut and muscular, one of those guys that's got that nice, gritty edge on the outside, but who cleans up real nice and always smells good. Cute doesn't really work for me. But then I open Crystal's jacket and find out what she's hiding underneath. It's a black lace dress stretched tight over her tanned body, almost tasteless but classy enough that it works. I can see why she kept the coat on. She looks like she's ready for a night out in the city, not a boring slump at a dive bar with tearful soft rock and cheap drinks.

I look over my shoulder and watch as Gaine tosses a wad of bills on the counter and gives me a look that's part hunger and part melancholy. I ignore it and turn my attention back to Crystal, listening to the sound of the doors swinging open and shuttering closed.

While her friends laugh and heckle her behind us, goaded on by Beck's ridiculous one-liners, I lean in and whisper in her ear.

“Do you want to fuck him?” I ask. I'm not shy about it. Tonight isn't about being shy. I don't need to bring a shy girl up to my room and walk her through the delicacies of sex. I need somebody that's going to give and take equally, who I think will leave that room tonight or tomorrow without any fantasies about what might or could be.

“Yes,” she whispers, completely enraptured. She doesn't seem drunk though, just wild, a bit of untamed spirit back home for the summer, a small town girl with big town dreams. They're a dime a dozen, but at least I know how to handle them. Austin and I used to … play around sometimes. But Gaine's not like that. And I'm forcing him to be. I keep the
why
off the tip of my tongue and smile at Crystal.

“Then come with me.”

I turn away and start towards the door with catcalls and whistles abounding behind me. Either the girl will follow or she won't. This is the perfect way to test her, see if she's really up to it. My feeling here is that little Miss Crystal wants Gaine, that I'm inconsequential. Sometimes, they come for me. Mostly they come for the guys, but that's alright. That's what we're both there for anyway. I just like to watch.

I make it halfway across the street before I hear her heels behind me, clacking across the cement in hurried steps. When she finally catches up to me, her arms are crossed over her chest, keeping the jacket closed.

“Where are we going?” she asks, looking up and down the quiet street with wide, fearful eyes. I'm about to take her inside the hotel when I see Gaine leaning against the street entrance to the parking garage with a cigarette between his lips and his arms crossed over his broad chest. When he turns away and moves down the steps, I change my direction and follow. “You're not going to, like, rape and murder me, are you?” Crystal asks, steps slowing as I start down the cement stairs without waiting to see if she's going to follow.

“Sweetie, if you have to ask that question, maybe you should go? After all, this world is one sick and fucked up dirty place. I've been hurt bad by it before, and I can promise you that it'll show no mercy.” I hit the oily pavement and move across the brightly lit lot like a jaguar hunting prey. Gaine's already waiting for me, cigarette dangling from his lips while he stares with glittering eyes. I like the power I have over him. I admit it. I like that he wants me,
craves
me.

Without a single word passing between us, Gaine grabs his cig between two fingers and flings it to the cement, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him, kissing me hard and possessing me with his lips. We've been here, done this before. He's said things to me before, things that I can never forgive.
I love you.

But he can't. Nobody can. At this point in my life, there is nothing here to love but a sharp edged bitch who doesn't remember how to feel. Numb. That's all I am anymore. Just numb.

I feel Gaine's body, hard and angular, the perfect opposite to my soft curves, my breasts. He crushes me against him as I tangle my fingers in his dark hair and pull, drawing a groan from his lips and a pleasant grinding against my hips when his cock responds to my call.

“Don't be selfish now,” I whisper against his mouth, drawing back and glancing over my shoulder. Against all the odds, Crystal is standing behind me with her coat gaping open, staring at us both with a heated expression. She made a stupid mistake coming down here. There's a very, very good chance and a high likelihood that had we been a part of any other MC, that bad things might've happened. I should be warning her off, telling her how lucky she is to have that boring life she hates, but I can't do it. The animal inside of me is raging out of control, a lioness unleashed on the hunt. I can't control myself anymore. I've never
really
been able to control myself. On the outside, it seems like I am, but inside, I'm screaming. “Come here,” I tell the girl, beckoning with my fingers for her to approach. She's steady on her high heels, running her tongue across her lower lip.

“How old are you, babe?” Gaine asks, narrowing his dark eyes suspiciously. When he looks at me, they shine like jewels forged from the deepest recesses of the earth, something old and condensed and burning with molten heat. When he looks at her, they may as well be flint. They're cold, unfeeling. I wonder how far I can push him?

“Twenty-two,” she says, and I can almost see Gaine's face fall. He wanted a way out, some way to say no to me without bearing the brunt of my anger. He's trapped now. I laugh and press a kiss to his ear, teasing the little wisps of hair that tickle his neck. I twirl them around my finger and absorb the liquid heat from his fingertips. If I focus too hard on that feeling, that intensity, I'll get swept in and sucked away.
Estoy ardiendo.

“Twenty-fucking-two,” I whisper into Gaine's ear. Just six years younger than me and a whole world away. I step back and put my hand against his broad chest, splaying my fingers against his rapidly beating heart. With a simple push, I get him right where I want him, sitting on the edge of his bike. Without any prompting from me, Crystal moves forward and wraps her hands around Gaine's neck, dropping the shy girl routine completely. Her teeth nibble his lip and he kisses her back, mildly, like he's kissin' his damn grandma or something.

“Oh come on, Gaine Kelley,” I tell him, sliding Crystal's trench from her shoulders and tossing it over the back of Gaine's bike along with my jacket. “Don't tell me you've never been in a ménage à trois before. Show me some of that New York City slick, baby.” I run my hands over Crystal's hips and reach down to the hard bulge of denim between Gaine's legs. His belt buckle comes undone next and then his zipper.