I ground my teeth.
Leave, Hendrix. Just go. You don’t need someone else’s problems making your life any more difficult. Let the princess get herself out of her own mess.
Except I was pretty sure she was exactly where she wanted to be, and that made me want to throw something.
Fuck it. I gave up. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left and she turned up dead in a few weeks. I’d just check that she was—ugh!—enjoying herself. I’d make sure she left safely, and then I’d use this information to blackmail the shit out of her. There wasn’t much I needed from her other than to get those bratty kids off my back, but I was going to milk it for all it was worth—payback for putting me through this mess of a night.
I made my way through the crowd, following their path past the dark corridor and to the back door. With my hand on the handle, I braced myself for what I might see—would sex or violence affect me more?
The music from the club faded as I stepped out into the night.
He had her up against the wall, right next to the dumpster, a string of condoms hanging from one thick-knuckled hand.
I clenched my teeth and let the heavy door slam shut.
Donna looked over his shoulder, but it was too dark to make out her expression. Bronson paused what he was doing and half turned his head. “Find some other place to piss, man. I’m kind of busy here.”
He lowered his mouth back to her neck.
He was going to fuck her in a disgusting alleyway, where people routinely pissed? Real class act, this guy.
A breathy moan escaped the darkness shrouding them, and I suddenly realized that was exactly what she wanted. The perfect princess liked to get down and dirty with dangerous men.
I didn’t even know where to begin trying to guess what her damage was, but it looked as though Donna was just as fucked up as me—albeit in a different way.
But I’d inserted myself into this clusterfuck of a situation, and I wasn’t about to walk away. If she wanted to be there, I’d have fun ruining her fun.
I rolled my shoulders—preparing, just in case this got violent—then relaxed and shoved a hand in my pocket, trying my best to look casual.
Bronson turned his head and shoulders, raising his voice. “What’s your problem, dude? Fuck off.”
“I don’t have a problem.” I shrugged. “Just making sure my schoolmate here is safe.”
Chapter Seven
Donna
“Schoolmate?” The biker dude sneered in my direction. In the distance, thunder rumbled.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, you suddenly want to know things about me?”
He smirked and gripped my waist. “I don’t give a fuck how old she is. Get lost, pretty boy.”
“Do you give a shit that her rich daddy will have half the police in the state on your ass if you so much as touch her?” Hendrix cocked his head to the side, his voice amused.
Biker dude growled, and not in the fun, sexy way.
I was losing my patience too. “Are you gonna man up and get rid of him, or do I need to get myself off?”
“Listen here, you little slut.” He jabbed a finger in my face while his other hand tightened into a fist, the leather of the fingerless glove creaking. “You know what? On second thought, I don’t need this high school drama bullshit.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned around and stomped back toward the bar, boots pounding on the concrete. I narrowed my eyes and gritted my teeth.
“You know what, asshole?” I yelled after him, taking a few steps in his direction.
His back stiffened under the leather vest, but suddenly Hendrix was taking long strides in my direction, eyes wide and mouth firm. The suddenness of the movement and the intensity of his stare made me pause long enough for biker dude to disappear back inside.
With my evening entertainment and outlet for my rage gone, I turned my ire on the jerk who had been a thorn in my side for weeks now.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I got in his face. The killer heels helped put me closer to eye level, but I still had to tip my head up.
“Saving your ass.” He huffed.
“My ass was just fine, thanks. My ass was about to get some ass, you arrogant, presumptuous, cock-blocking dumbass.”
“Your ass was about to get killed. Bronson has a reputation for leaving his girlfriends in dumpsters.” He wasn’t backing down. We were practically chest to chest.
“I’m not his girlfriend. He was just a hookup. What the fuck do you take me for?”
“Honestly, I have no idea what to make of this. What . . .” He shook his head and sighed. “Donna, what the fuck are you doing here? What are you wearing? Do you have any idea how dangerous—”
I cut him off with a shove against his chest. It took him by surprise enough to make him stumble a step back, but I followed, getting in his face. “Screw you and your assumptions.” I shoved him again, but this time he was prepared and hardly budged. “Screw you and your patronizing bullshit.” I shoved hard, but his whole body was rigid, muscles tense under my palms. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I know exactly what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. I can take care of myself.”
Thunder grumbled again, making me wish I could growl like that—with the force of nature behind me.
Hendrix was breathing heavily even as he stood there, as still as a statue and as hard as one, but a muscle was ticking in his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. Something in me liked that. He’d been so dismissive of me at school, so blasé about everything I threw at him, that getting a rise out of him was like a drug. My favorite kind—unpredictable.
Like a junkie, I shoved his chest again.
This time his hands shot up to grip my wrists—not painfully, but tightly enough that I couldn’t wrench out of his hold. I tried anyway, thrashing against him as my adrenaline spiked.
“Let go of me, asshole.”
“I’m not going to hit you, Donna,” he growled, the sound low and controlled but with menace simmering just below. “But I’m not just going to stand here and not defend myself. Get your shit together.”
I leaned up and shouted right into his face, “Fuck you!”
The corner of his lip twitched, an almost smile. “I thought we established that wasn’t going to happen?”
I was getting more and more worked up, basically throwing a tantrum, while he just stood there like a pillar, getting calmer and calmer. It was maddening.
Well, I was over letting him feel as though he had the advantage. He could deny it all he wanted, but he was attracted to me. I could see it in the way his eyes searched my face. His lips were smirking, but his eyes couldn’t lie—those beautiful, intense gray eyes.
I used the leverage of his grip on my wrists, lifted up onto my toes, and kissed him.
For a second—a bare breath of a moment suspended in time—he froze.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the dirty alleyway and this thing between us. Then, as the thunder roared, he moved his lips against mine, his tongue darting out, his mouth claiming me.
He released one of my wrists to wrap an arm around my body and walk me backward.
I gripped his T-shirt, pulling the fabric as if the thin fibers could tether me to some semblance of control. I’d kissed him so I could prove something, but within seconds, he had the upper hand, and my head was spinning in the most delicious, most excruciating way.