“Get dressed, Kas.” His eyes lift for the briefest moment, but the second they lock on me, he looks away again.
“For someone who was so adamant he wanted me here last night, you’re pretty keen to get rid of me now.”
“Yeah, well. Things change. Now, will you do as you’re fucking told? Or I’ll take you home like that.”
I look down at myself wearing his t-shirt and shrug. No one where I live would bat an eyelid if I turned up dressed like this.
“I can take myself home. I don’t need you.”
That stops him.
“Oh, like you didn’t need me last night.”
“Yeah, I did, but you denied me, remember?”
His lips purse and his eyes narrow. “That wasn’t what I meant.” A muscle in his neck pulsates as he stares at me, and I can’t help but smile at him.
“Maybe not, but it seems like you might be regretting it now. Feeling a little frustrated, are you, old man?” I ask, flicking a look down to where his semi is still pressed against the thin fabric of his boxers.
His teeth grind and his muscles tense at my name for him. “Enough with the old man thing,” he warns.
“Why? You’re what… ten years older than me?”
“Yeah, exactly why we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
I cross my arms over my chest knowing full well that it will make the shirt rise, exposing more of my legs.
“Get. Dressed.”
“Keep your fucking knickers on. I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes. Maybe then you should figure out a way to relieve that tension.” I give him an insincere smile before spinning on my heels and walking back to my room.
I don’t find any of my clothes or my stuff there, so I head for the living room. I find my leggings in a pile where I vaguely remember stripping them off, along with my ruined shirt on the kitchen floor.
The memory of letting it fall from my shoulders in front of him hits me, and I can’t help but laugh to myself. No wonder he’s feeling a little worked up this morning. I offered myself to him on a platter last night, and he turned me down. I probably should feel a little hurt about that, but it’s like water off a duck’s back. It only fires me up to keep pushing him. I need some entertainment in my life; fuck knows everything else I’ve got to deal with is too depressing for words.
Pulling on my leggings, I leave my ripped top on the counter and pull my bag over my shoulder.
“Thanks for last night,” I call out before pulling the front door open and marching through it.
It slams behind me, leaving no question about the fact I just walked out. My head pounds as I begin to jog my way down the stairs and away from Spike and his morning attitude.
I need to go home, have a shower, and get ready for work again. I’ve got a debt to pay, and from the looks of last night, Jet isn’t willing to wait any longer for what he thinks I owe him.
I can’t afford it, but as I move, I pull up the Uber app on my phone and order myself a car. I just need to get out of here.
It seems that some luck must be on my side, because there’s a car right around the corner and it’s pulling up in front of me in less than thirty seconds.
I’ve got the door open and I’m about to climb inside when a voice behind stops me.
“Wait.”
“What now?” I ask, my voice flat and unamused by the fact that he’s just followed me.
“Let me take you.”
“Why? So you feel better about yourself? So you can tell Zach that you looked after me? Fuck off, Spike.” I flip him off and climb into the car, slamming the door behind me. “Go, please,” I instruct the driver, and he pulls away from the curb.
I breathe out a sigh of relief and rest back, but it doesn’t last all that long.
“Are you in trouble, miss?”
I open my mouth to respond with something along the lines of, ‘I’m always in trouble’, but I refrain from making this situation look worse than it already is.
“No, I’m good thanks. Just the morning after the night before, you know how it is.” He glances at me in the mirror and I realise that I’ve not even looked at myself this morning. I probably look like a bus has run over me.
“Okay, well… you should probably know that he’s following us.”
“What?” I bark, twisting in the seat to look out of the back window. Sure as shit, there’s a black bike right behind us. I narrow my eyes on his right arm and immediately recognise his tattoos.
“Motherfucker.”
“I don’t get paid enough to embark on a car chase,” the driver mutters.
“He’s not a threat to me,” I say with a sigh. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Resting back, I close my eyes for a beat and think back to last night and the way he tried to rescue me from myself. Twice.
I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t want to be working as a stripper, but aside from properly selling my body or becoming a drug lord, I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to raise the money I need. And fast.
The threat of what will happen if I don’t pay Jet is the only reason I stay up on that stage and allow the sleazy men to drool over me. Deep down, I was more than happy to be dragged away from it.
Equally, I can’t deny that being in his arms after the incident with Jet didn’t feel pretty damn good. I’m not sure I’ve ever been held quite like that in my life before.
For just those few moments, I felt safe, protected. Two feelings I really don’t need to get used to, because where I come from, the only way to
