Sensing eyes on me, I look up into the dark umber gaze of Snake. The awareness of his unchecked appraisal causes my heart to flutter and coochie to clench.
I hold his stare, unable to help the smile I have for him. In the few weeks since the kiss, we have fallen into a companionable truce.
He didn’t kick me out, like he should have, for my inappropriate behavior. I realized pretty soon after he roared away on my bike that I had pushed him too far. He was more than clear when he said I couldn’t possibly satisfy him.
Crushing as it sounded, I’ve heard the whispers and the blatant references to how he is. He’s never brought women to our house, but there were nights once I got older and a lot more recently where he stays gone almost until dawn. Never spendingthe night with anyone but he’s never hid his escapades from me. Not that he’s had a serious relationship either. I’ve been told outright by some of the women who wanted more that it was because of his responsibility to me.
I’m grown now, so there’s nothing holding him back from being with someone. In the back of my mind, I know I need to get my heart and mind ready. He’s made it more than clear it won’t ever be me.
He more than drove his point home. Most nights he doesn’t come home, choosing to spend them either with the twin cousins when they aren’t on rotation at the Leon Spencer Women’s and Children’s Center or with some other sweet butt at the MC.
I have no desire to be part of his harem. In fact, I’m going to make it my mission to find a nice guy — someone not affiliated with the el Diablo crew to date.
Being so sheltered is part of the problem. I’ve never dated because everyone was so scared of him and Angel. It’s no surprise I started crushing on him.
I’ve had stars in my eyes since was sixteen, and it hasn’t let up.
I can forgive myself for my heart, but pushing him like I did was not cool. It could have ruined everything.
So we both just pretend it didn’t happen.
I want to tell him so badly he doesn’t have to stay gone all the time. Say I miss him. Let him know the nightmares have come back. Knowing just how needy that sounds stops me cold.
I miss the friendship we had. I know it’s my fault - this chasm exists between us. Pushing him into that corner was atrocious behavior. Now I’m paying for it in my dreams, and I can’t even tell him because he may think it’s a ploy.
Catching wisps of him ribbing Angel over Easy being here, then Angel making it no secret he likes us together, giving it to him right back about me.
I watch a frown darken his visage as he lays a near murderous frown my way.
“I don’t fuck jailbait.” Comes the scathing reply.
Embarrassment heats my face. “H-have you decided on your design?” Forcing cheerfulness into my voice, I turn to the girls who, thankfully, are so absorbed in picking their designs they don’t hear his horrible words. They are just as fluent in Spanish as I am, with their father being Brazilian and the only decent Shelby aside from his cousins, the sheriff, Ulysses and Mathias, Angel’s best friend since forever.
I tune out the rest of what’s said as I immerse myself in the design.
The rest of the day passes with a speed that belies the warm sultriness of the south, which usually makes the days drag on.
By the time dusk comes, I call it quits. The light is enough to illuminate the path to the tents, with most of the focus having turned to the stage.
When I gather my temporary tattoo kit and face painting supplies, tucking them into a carrier on my bike, both Angel and Snake are gone.
Later that night…
Hot fetid breath washes over me as the man tries to force his mouth on mine. Twisting my head, I try to get away. He holds me down, pressing my head into the cot. I feel trapped. My body strains. Hard hands grip my face, squeezing hard.
“Be still.” Two hard smacks sting my cheeks. Fingers squeeze hard over my nose. Straining, I twist, earning a sharp jab to the side of my face. Pain explodes and I see stars.Whether by oxygen being cut off or by being struck by his closed fist, I don’t know.
My arms are wretched high over my head, pulled taunt and tied to the cot’s rails with zip ties.
Another hot breath. “Now be a good little puta and I may not kill you.” The sweaty body lifts. The air in the little tent is stifling. His massive body heaving and expelling his body odor quickly overcoming the spicy homeyness of the family’s temporary home.
I hear him shucking off his clothes.
Paralyzed with fear, with my body strung tight, I can’t move. Panic slams into me. Tears spill freely down my face.
Sobs shake my body.
Is he coming?
