“When was the last time you let someone between your thighs? If I have to guess, with how long I’ve been here, it must have been at least a year.” That mocking curve turns cruel. “Must be terrible not having anyone want you for that long.”
His words don’t just fade away as most insults do. It’s as if he knows exactly how to say things that cut deep, his words piercing me like a hard slap to the face.
I move without thinking. Reaching for him, I get a hold of his shirt and pull hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough tostretch out his shirt. His smirk flickers, but it ultimately remains like he wants me to be the first one to swing.
He’d swing back, wouldn’t he? Fuck, maybe that’s what I need.
Would he fight me if I challenged him?
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a piece of shit?” My voice shakes.Shit.
“At least once a week by a beauty with a stick up her ass. Do you know her? Maybe you can tell her to take a chill pill and learn how to take a joke.” His smile slips away, revealing a frown that matches my own. It lasts as long as it takes to swat my hand away. “This is a favorite. Don’t stretch it out.”
And now he’s worried about his appearance. I can’t put up with this for more than five minutes, let alone however long this Crimson Road mess will take to clean up.
I need to release all this anger. Otherwise, I’m going to get in trouble for fighting outside of a sparring match. I’m going to punch him and take a hit in return. We’ll deal blows until one of us hits the ground, and I’ll be damned if it’s me.
Hell, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop hitting him until he’s dead, if it’s a real fight.
Judge already made it clear the last time I got in a serious fight with one of the members. He won’t come in and save the day again ifI’mthe one starting it.
Not to say I’m afraid of any of them, but I can’t risk him seeing me as some kind of threat and giving me the boot. Even if he’s madly in love with Pen, there’s only so much immunity I can get out of that.
Turning away with a frustrated growl, I take a step back before I do something stupid. Hammer already suggested I count to ten whenever I’m angry, so I try that. When Jinx chuckles, I stop at three and turn on my heel.
Counting isn’t what I need. Distance is.
“Where are you going?” He stumbles off his stool to catch up with me when I try to speed walk away.
Meaning, if I attempt to run, this ass is going to chase after me. Lovely. The whole club would enjoy an entertaining show like that, wouldn’t they?
“To clear my head.” Muttering the words, I reach the back of the bar and slip deeper into the clubhouse. Hearing his heavy steps behind me, I keep my attention ahead of me. Can’t think about him being forced to cling to me. If I do, I’m going to blow my top.
If I’m forced to accept this, to accepthim, then I need to hit something. It just can’t be his stupid smiling face.
We reach the door belonging to my and Pen’s room. It’s the one place in this entire building that I can call our own. A place I can breathe and enjoy a little solitude.
Turning the handle, I pause when I realize Jinx intends to follow.
“Don’t even think about it.” Hissing through my teeth, I squeeze the handle tight. I’ve never let someone into our room before, and I have no intention of changing that.
Jinx doesn’t flinch, but I can see his impatience flickering behind his gaze. Makes his smile unsettling. “You heard the boss. I’d take his warning seriously. And to be truthful, not that I care about saving your feelings, I don’t want to be tied together with you.”
He then shoves the door open with a swift push, making me stumble into the opening. Asshole.
Forced to be followed into the room, my eyes wander around for anything sharp. The best I can see is Pen’s hairbrush.Fuck.
“I need to get dressed. It’ll take me two minutes. Until then,get out.” Jerking my chin to the open door, I annunciate the words so he can get the demand through his thick skull.
Jinx turns, but he doesn’t leave. Instead, the bastard shuts the door. Then, the smile is back. He’s only doing it to make me angry. Of course, it’s working. “The best I can do is give you some privacy from the others. Can’t have you slipping out of the window and getting captured by some Crimson Road thug now, can I?”
Is he going to hold my hand when I’m on the toilet and join me while I shower, too?
Growling my annoyance, he doesn’t flinch this time. Already getting used to my responses, he crosses his arms at his chest and lifts a brow.
I can’t remember the last time someone has purposely pushed my buttons. No,jabbedmy buttons.
I don’t want to release this pent-up anger in jeans stained with alcohol. Breathing in deep, the noise that leaves me is pure frustration.
