Get Off on the Pain (7 page)

Running my tongue over my upper teeth, I back up and turn around, getting out of there as fast as I can before I hurt someone else. I push my way past the crowd swarming in and head over to my bike, my blood pumping.

Right as I reach for my helmet I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I tense up, prepared for a fight when I turn around to see Lyric standing there panting, the front of her dress wet.

“I need a ride home.” Walking over, she grabs my helmet and places it on her head.

I watch her as she walks around me and hops on the back, wrapping one of her arms around my waist.

“Why is your dress wet,” I ask through clenched teeth, wondering if I’m going to have to go back in and confront someone.

“I threw my drink on Ryder and unfortunately someone bumped into the back of me. It didn’t quite work out like I had planned. Now I’m just ready to go before Bailey finds me and bitches me out for ruining the night.” Her grip on me tightens as she puts her feet up. “I’m ready.”

I tilt my head and smirk at her before firing up the engine. “Next time don’t stand so close and aim for the face. Vodka is a bitch when it gets in the eyes. It burns like hell.”

“Noted,” she says with a lace of humor before scooting in closer and gripping me tighter. “I’m ready for a ride so be sure to go fast. I doubt I’m anything like the girls you’re used to. Don’t hold back.”

That’s one thing I can do . . .

MEMPHIS’ BODY STAYS TENSE THE whole ride home and I have to admit that I like the feel of his firm body under my touch. Every time my grip on him shifts, his muscles tense even more, as if he isn’t used to being touched. It only makes me want to help break those walls down and continue to touch him if that makes sense.

As soon as he pulls up in front of my house he grips my hand and helps me off his bike, but faster than I prefer. I wasted a perfectly good drink on some asshole for him and all he wants to do is get rid of me.

“Go inside and change,” he demands. “Then come back outside. I’ll wait right here.”

“Excuse me?” I hope he doesn’t think that I’m one of those women who take orders from a man. That is not my style and I won’t take orders from anyone, including him.

“You’re coming home with me.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. Now go inside and change.”

I step up to him and point my finger in his chest, adding pressure for better effect. “Don’t talk to me like that or you’re going to piss me off. Got it?”

Grinning, he looks down at my finger before grabbing it and pushing it down at my side. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone after what happened at the bar just now. If Ryder shows up at your house tonight, drunk and pissed off about you throwing your drink on him . . .” He pauses and looks up to meet my eyes. “I want to be around to protect you. You stood up for me. Now this is me repaying you. Trust me, I don’t invite people into my home very often.”

I swallow and back away from him. I notice a little red mark from my fingernail at the center of his chest, just above the point of his V-neck T-shirt from where my finger was and I can’t help but to feel bad. He looks down at it and then back up at me, expressionless. “Sorry.”

I turn around and get ready to walk up to my house, but stop. “Why do I need to change? What’s wrong with what I have on?”

He runs his hand through his tousled hair and lets out a frustrated breath. “Because if you don’t then the only thing I will be able to think about is slamming you against a wall and fucking you in every room in my house. Now go change . . . into sweats preferably.”

I feel a rush of excitement from his words and can almost feel my cheeks turning beet red. A part of me is turned on hearing that come out of his mouth and the other part can’t believe that he actually just admitted that to me.

For once I am stunned speechless and too confused to think of a comeback, so I just mumble that I’ll be back and walk away as fast as I can.

I fumble with my key and accidently drop it while trying to unlock the door. I hear him chuckle as I bend down to pick it up. Apparently his words affected me more than they should have and now he knows it.

Once I get inside I hear the engine of his motorcycle. I peek out the window and notice him drive off toward his garage before he kills the engine. He may have a point about making me come home with him, but he definitely has no say in how I dress.

Ignoring his request for me to dress in a pair of sweats, I slip into my pink, cotton boxers and white tank top, cut low. He needs to realize that I don’t listen to demands very well. This is what I wear when I want to get comfortable. There’s no reason to change that just because of him.

I quickly pull my hair up, grab my camera, and slip into my sandals before slamming my bedroom door behind me.

A picture falls off the wall and breaks as it hits the floor. It’s only a few big pieces of glass, but it’s dark, and so is the carpet. “Shit!” It’s a picture of Bailey and Landen from when they first met.

Bending down, I pick up the frame and set it on the kitchen counter before walking back over and quickly reaching for the shards of broken glass. I jump as I feel the edge of the smaller piece pierce through my skin, cutting me. “Double shit.”

I’m in too much of a rush to care about a small cut, so I quickly rip off a paper towel and wrap it around my hand, stepping back out onto the front porch and locking the door behind me.

When I turn around I almost bump into Memphis. He’s standing right behind me with his arms crossed over his chest. As soon as his eyes land on what I’m wearing he growls and takes off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders. It’s so big I am practically drowning in it.

“It’s not exactly warm out here. A little more clothes would have been nice.”

Grabbing ahold of his jacket I follow behind him as he walks back to his house. “I’m not cold. I actually prefer the cooler weather over it being hot. You could have kept your jacket on.”

He turns to me and growls, his eyes staying on mine. “Your nipples are hard, Lyric, so either you’re cold or turned on.” He reaches for the garage door and opens it. “Or both. Either way, you need to cover up . . . for both of our sakes. Trust me.”

He motions for me to walk inside before he steps in behind me and closes the door. I watch him with a scowl, pissed off at his attitude. “Are you always a dickhead or just to me?”

“Does it make a difference?” He turns around and walks past me, keeping his attention as far away from me as he can. “I’m just getting by the best way I know how, so please just keep covered up. Is that better?”

“I was in a hurry. You made me feel rushed,” I scoff. “You act as if you’ve never seen a set of tits.”

“Not the point,” he growls.

I pull his jacket tighter and can’t help but to breathe in his masculine scent. As crazy as this sounds—I could sniff this jacket all night. Call me a weirdo but I don’t care. I’ve never smelt anything so sexy in my life. He may be a dick, but doesn’t mean I have to take it out on his jacket.

Before I even realize it we’re stopped in the kitchen and he’s reaching into the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of water, takes the lid off, and slides it on the counter close to me. “Here’s some water. I haven’t had much time to shop yet. There are a few snacks in the cupboard if you’re hungry.”

I nod my head as he points over to his snack stash.

“I’m going downstairs. Stay up here.”

I grab for the bottle of water and take a small sip. “For what? And what am I supposed to do then? Stand here like an idiot?”

He turns his head to the side and lets out a small breath before motioning toward the living room. It’s as if me being here is painful. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back. Just don’t go snooping and don’t fucking come downstairs.” He turns away and grips the counter before releasing it with a sigh. “Drink the water. You could use it.”

“Alright then,” I mumble to myself as his eyes land on the hand holding the water.

“What the fuck?” He comes at me faster than I’ve ever seen him move before. Without a word he grabs the water out of my hand, tosses it, and unwraps my hand. “When the hell did this happen?”

“Does it matter?” I try pulling my hand away, but he grips it harder, stopping me.

He examines the small slash before pulling me over to the sink and turning the water on. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.” He places my hand under the water and takes off down the hallway.

I take a better look at the cut and realize it’s a little bigger than I initially thought. It’s still nothing to freak out about.

I’ve been standing here a couple minutes, starting to think he got lost, when he comes walking back down the hall with a first aid kit. Turning off the water, he grabs me by the hips and lifts me onto the counter.

I can’t help but to get lost in his look of concentration as he gently cleans my cut and disinfects it. He does it so meticulously I bet he’s done this a thousand times. He seems so comfortable doing it, and my stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of this big, strong man taking care of me. Not that I need it. I’ve never needed it before, and I still don’t.

Reaching for the bandage, he unconsciously runs his fingers up and down my arm before wrapping my hand and looking up to meet my eyes. His eyes look soft for a brief moment before he puts his guard back up and clears his throat. “Better. I’ll send this kit home with you and you can clean it again in the morning.”

I watch as he closes up the kit. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“I’ll be back. Just relax a bit.” I watch as he walks away, leaving me sitting on the counter, completely surprised by his moment of tenderness. This isn’t exactly how I imagined my night would turn out, but a part of me enjoyed this moment, even though the rest of the night is sure to suck.

I was having fun. We were all having fun . . . until Memphis showed up and the whole atmosphere seemed to change. Ryder turned into a straight up asshole and other people in the bar seemed more tense than they had been before he showed his face. I didn’t get it. It confused me and had me curious. Then when Ryder continued to talk shit about Memphis after he walked outside, I asked him to stop. That’s one thing that I hate. If you have some shit to say about someone—say it to their face or keep the fuck quiet.

Ryder stepped up in my face, trying to show the size of his balls and said, “Why, because you want to
fuck
him just like my girlfriend does? Well, get in line with the rest of the sluts around here.”

One word and I lost it. I threw my drink at him. That was me being polite. I wanted nothing more than to punch him right in the face. I haven’t felt that feeling in a long time. At that moment I knew I needed to just get out of there, so I ran outside in hopes that I would catch Memphis to avoid having to walk so far in heels. I got lucky and wasn’t taking no for an answer, although, I could tell he wasn’t too keen to have me on his bike.

Screw this. Who knows when he will be back. He’s probably avoiding me now that I saw his soft spot. I jump off the counter and walk into the living room. It’s inviting, but masculine. I sit back on his black, plush couch and once again go through the photo shoot I took of this girl named Jenna and her boyfriend. I did the session over two weeks ago at this beautiful park, but for some reason I haven’t even been able to pick out my top ten shots to edit, let alone send them to her. Maybe I’m just becoming picky and nothing seems to live up to my standards; either that or I’m just losing my passion.

I sit here for at least thirty minutes—maybe forty, scrolling through the pictures and deleting more of the ones I don’t like before I hear Bailey’s car pull up next door, saving me from my misery. “Yes. It’s about damn time. I’m bored out of my fucking mind.”

I stand and walk over to the window to look outside. Bailey is standing next to her car wrapped up in Landen’s arms while texting on her phone, looking frantic.

That’s when I remember that I left mine at home and she’s probably wondering where I ran off to. Knowing her she’s probably freaking out by now. She knows I’m well capable of taking care of myself, but still . . . she worries, and I should let her know I’m okay.