“Sure.” I favor her with a smile and before I can even take a breath, she smashes her mouth against mine. Her kiss is hot and eager, and her breath reeks of stale beer and weed. I pull back, and mask my distaste by taking a long swallow from my bottle. Christ, what’s wrong with me? I don’t usually care about shit like that, especially since there’re other things she can do with that mouth of hers.
“Let’s go upstairs.” She licks my earlobe and instead of it being a turn-on, I fight the urge to push her away. “I’ll make you feel good.” Her hand drifts down my chest and tugs suggestively at my buckle.
Why am I still standing here? Friday night is fuck night. An easy screw is all I want, with a chick who knows the score. She’ll take the edge off, quiet this crazy thunder in my blood, and I can spend the rest of the night getting hammered.
And forget that Jas is less than ten minutes’ ride away.
I loosen my grip on the bottle before I shatter the damn thing. It doesn’t matter if Skyler and I bang all night. It won’t get Jas out of my head.
If I’d been five minutes later going to the Hammer, we’d never have seen each other and she wouldn’t be driving me crazy now.
She not the same girl I lost my mind over. Hell, she’s a woman and not even the type I find hot anymore. My dick stirs, and it’s got nothing to do with the way Skyler’s tugging on my zipper and everything to do with Jasmine O’Brien’s sad brown eyes and her sweet, lying smile.
Fuckingcrazy. It took me years to get over her. Damned if one chance encounter’s going to drag up all those old memories. I forcibly shove her face from my mind. This is my life now.Meaningless sex.Skyler smiles up at me, as if she’s sensed my mood change, and that’s all it takes to know I’m fooling myself.
“Later, Sky.” I pull free from her grasp. Her pout and little mewl of protest leaves me unmoved as I put my half-finished beer on the counter.
Even as I swing my leg over my Harley, I’ve no idea what the hell I’m doing. All I know is I have to see her again. We’ve unfinished business. All I need from her is closure.
As I roar off along the street, I almost manage to convince myself it’s really going to be that easy.
…
Jasmine
Curled up on the faded couch I remember so well from my childhood, I take another sip of red wine and can’t quite bring myself to open the shoebox next to me. I never realized Mom was such a hoarder before, but for the last five hours I’ve been sorting through crap she kept for over thirty years.
Who’d guess she still had all the cards and things my dad gave her when they were crazy-in-love fifteen-year-olds? Not Dad, that’s for sure. I’ve no idea if he wants all that stuff, but I’ll take it back to Florida for him anyway. There’s a part of him that still loves her, despite everything she did.
My chest aches as I remember the day he had enough and walked out. Maybe it’s just my memory playing tricks, but that’s when it started. Years of bullying from other kids who thought their moms were so much better than mine. Until I was six, I loved Mom’s sparkly costumes and glittery high heels. I always thought she looked like a fairy princess, and imagined if only I had her pretty, long blond hair, she’d hug me sometimes, the way she hugged everyone else.
Then I started school and discovered that while fairy princesses might do many things, hanging out with the local MC members definitely wasn’t one of them. The other kids’ moms didn’t want me at the birthday parties and outings, and mean whispers in the schoolyard made me cry inside. It was only much later I figured out the real reasons why the kids were encouraged to ostracize me.
It didn’t stop me wishing she’d spend more time with me, though. And when I was older, and understood what was really going on, I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t care about the way she was treated.
She wasn’t stupid. She could’ve done anything with her life if she’d wanted to, but I guess that was always the point. All she ever wanted was to be a part of the Viking Bastards MC.
With a sigh, I lean back and close my eyes. I’ve tried to avoid thinking about Ty since I left him standing on the sidewalk. Not that it worked. I haven’t been able to shift him from my mind or defeat the needy throb humming through my entire body.
My first love. My only love, which is nothing to boast about at my age but it’s the truth. I’ve never gotten over him because I never really said goodbye. And meeting him again today has thrown my nice, ordered life back into chaos.
Would it have made any difference if we’d talked about the past? Thrashed it all out? Somehow, I doubt it. It was a starry teenage dream to think our backgrounds didn’t matter, but even ten years later he’s still a Bastard, the president’s son, and in their world, I’m nothing but the daughter of one of their stripper sweeties.
We can never talk about the past because there’s too much I can’t tell him. A shudder inches through me, and the nightmare that haunted me for too many years threatens to drag me back under.
Not happening.I force myself upright, put the glass on the floor, and pick up the shoebox. It’s only eleven. I can work through the night, one box at a time. It’s all I can do. There’s no one else who could help me with this, anyway.
Maybe by the time I crawl into bed I’ll be too exhausted to think, let alone be kept awake by rekindled lust for a man I can never have.
There’s a rap on the front door, and I freeze, heart pounding. This is a shitty neighborhood and even though I grew up here, it’s been years since I actually lived in an apartment where anyone could stroll off the street and roam through the building.
Barefoot, I stealthily make my way to the door and clutch the baseball bat Mom kept in the corner. Not that I’ve any intention of opening the door, but I feel better with something solid in my hands.
I peer through the peephole. Ty’s out there, looking big and badass, and I almost drop the bat in relief. Except…Ty? Here? In what universe does that even make sense?
“Jas. Open up.” He sounds furious, and I spring back from the door in case he saw me spying on him, even though I know that’s impossible. Maybe I’ll ignore him. What’s he going to do, knock the door down if I don’t let him in?
Ten years ago, he would’ve. Ten years ago, hedid.I don’t know him anymore, but I have the feeling some things haven’t changed.
