Bad Boys of Romance - a Biker Anthology (21 page)

             
He looks offended that I asked. His eyes move to Dash before they come back to me. “He’s the best there is.” He gestures to him.

             
I expect Dash to give me a smug smile. But instead he’s watching me intently. He tilts his head to the side as his gray eyes continue to stare into mine. I want to look away but that would show weakness. It would show him how much he can affect me. So what we had sex once? I can handle that. I lick my lips as I remember the other thing he did to me while lying by my parents’ pool. The motion of my tongue has his eyes dropping to my lips and I’m thankful to look away. I pick up my glass of water since my mouth is feeling dry all of a sudden.

            “So tell me more about this Rodger guy?” He finally speaks.

I stop my drink halfway to my mouth. “What about him?” I try to say nicely but failing. Why does he want to know about my ex?

“How long were you guys together?’

“A year.”

“How did you meet him?”

              “College.”

              “Why did you guys break up?”

              I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes. “Why should any of this concern you?”

  
              “Sweet pea,” my father speaks, “he’s just curious. And I am as well.”

             
I throw Dash a go to hell look before I turn and speak to my father. “It was just over.” I shrug carelessly. I’m not going to admit that he had made me a different person or that I was suffocating.

             
“And he just walked away? Like that?” my father asks sitting back in his chair. Not buying it. “He seemed too much like a boy in love to just let you go so easily.”

             
I hate how perceptive my father is. He sees everything! Even things I don’t want him to see. “He wants another try,” I state before thinking about what I just said. I look up at Dash, and his jaw is tight and his eyes look dangerously dark—I smile to myself. He’s jealous. He doesn’t want anyone else playing with his toy.

              We hear ringing, and my dad fishes his phone out of his pocket. “I have to take this.”

             
As soon as my father walks away, Dash places his forearms on the table and speaks. “So you still talk to him?” His voice is hard.

             
“Yes,” I say, and he lets out a growl that I almost miss. “He showed up at my house this morning. It wasn’t something I could have prevented. The bastard woke me up,” I whisper.

             
He fists his hands on the table. “And?”

             
“And nothing.” I don’t want anything to do with Rodger anymore. But why do I want Dash to think I do? Because I like the way he looks when jealous? “I made him leave. I’m done with him. I’m done being that type of person.” I whisper the last part as I drift off in a memory.

             
“Lock the door and come here,” Rodger commands as he stands by the bed dressed in a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.

             
I do as he says and then walk over to him. “What are we doing up here?” I ask. We are at his parents’ house for our usual Sunday dinner.

             
He doesn’t answer right away. Once I’m a few steps from him he reaches out and grabs my wrist. I yelp from how tight he’s holding onto me. He pulls me to him before picking me up and throwing me onto the bed roughly. .

             
“Rodger…” He places his hand over my mouth to quiet me.

             
“Shh,” he says softly. “You don’t want them to hear you, do you?”

             
I shake my head, and he removes his hand from my mouth. “Good girl.” He places a soft kiss on my lips before his hands move up my thighs. He lifts the hem of my white cotton dress high enough to expose my panties. “This dress it too short.” He sighs heavily—disappointed in my choice of outfit. “No woman of mine should be showing off what’s mine.” His fingers dig into my hips, and I arch my back biting my lip to keep from making any noise. I don’t wanna make him mad.

             
“I’m sorry,” I breathe when he doesn’t let up. The pain making me cave.

             
He smiles. “Show me how sorry you are.” He stands up off of me and unzips his khakis. “Show me the good girl you can be instead of the slut that you look like.”

              “Tabitha?”

             
I snap out of my memory when Dash says my name. I blink a few times before I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly noticing our waiter had brought our food out as well.

             
“What type of person?” he asks, and I frown.

             
“Excuse me?” I ask confused. What were we talking about?

             
“You said
I’m done with being that type of person
. What did that mean? What type of person were you when you were with him?” His voice is soft and concerning.

             
I look down at the table and give a little smile to myself. Rodger had truly taken a strong-willed woman and turned her into a fragile piece of glass that he wanted to periodically break. See, to him, he was the only one able to glue me back together. That gave him power.
I
gave him the power. But now, now I’m stronger than I ever was before.

             
“Weak,” I say as I look him in the eyes. “I’m no longer weak.”

             
He frowns. “I can’t see you being the weak type.”

             
I let out a little laugh before I lean over the table and speak quietly. “Don’t think you know me because I let you fuck me.”

             
His eyebrows raise to his hairline, and I sit back with a sour look on my face.
How dare him!
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how much I’ve hated myself. That one night at his party was supposed to be fun and bring back the old me. Instead I had sex with someone who is currently not going anywhere.

             
Fuck! I can’t catch a break!

“Sweet pea?”

I look up from my pasta that I haven’t even touched and watch my dad as he walks back to the table. “Yes Daddy?” I ask

 
              “Are you okay?” He looks down at my food then to me.

I nod with a smile on my face. “Yes.”

“Well I’m going to go make another phone call. I will be right back.” He kisses me on the head and then walks off leaving me there with Dash once again.

              “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You’re fine
,” I say to my plate.

 
              “I’m not going to pretend that I know you or what happened between you and him. But I want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

             
I sit and stare into his soft gray eyes wondering why he seems to care so much. For a man, he’s beautiful. The button up shirt he wears shows off his broad shoulders and hard chest that I’ve ran my hands up and down. The sleeves are rolled back exposing his tan forearms. His curly, dark hair is gelled making it look as if it’s still wet from his shower. His chiseled jawline and pouty lips make him look like he belongs on a cover of GQ. He’s probably a player. A man who gets his kicks by making woman feel like they’re special when in reality they are nothing to him but a piece of meat. A way to stroke his ego. Something I’ve done for him several times already in the past week.
How many other girls have done the same thing just this week?

             
“Why?” I ask in all honesty.

             
He frowns. “Why? Because I want to get to know you. I want more from you than that first night. Or the few days after.” He looks around the restaurant and then his eyes are back on mine. “There’s something here, and you can’t say you don’t feel it.”

             
I shake my head and drop my eyes. “I’m not looking for more than what we did,” I state.

             
“I get it,” he says. “I get that he hurt you. He messed with your head,” he says, and I feel my anger start to rise. He doesn’t know how much I changed. He doesn’t know anything! “But I’m not trying to change you. I want to get to know the real you.”

“You don’t know anything about me except that I let you in my pants when I was drunk off my ass the first night we met
,” I say with bite. “So to you I’m probably some easy lay that you wanna keep around for whenever you feel like getting off.”

He sighs heavily. “I’m not going to base who you are on what we did that first night. Hell, I wanted it just as much as you did
, if not more. That doesn’t make me like you any less.”

I shake my head trying to figure out his angle. I haven’t even spoken to him. Hell, we haven’t even exchanged phone numbers.
Nothing!

“Let me take you to dinner? Just you and me.”

Before I can tell him ‘no thanks’ my father walks in.

“Sorry about that
,” my father says joining us back at the table.

I stand and turn to him. “I have to leave, Dad.” I don’t give him an excuse. Whatever I come up with he would see right through
as a lie.

He frowns. “I didn’t get to spend much time with you.” He looks down to his phone sitting on the table. My
father is a hard worker, and I’ve never held that against him.

“It’s okay
,” I say with a reassuring smile. “I will be free this weekend,” I offer, and I instantly cringe at my admission. It makes me sound lame. Like I have nothing better to do. I was always so busy with Rodger that my father is going to think I have no life now without him.

He gives me a warm smile, “Why don’t you come to the track this weekend then? Dash will be racing. We need to figure out what all his bike requires. So we will be out there all weekend.”

I really don’t want to be around Dash. It’s as if he can see right through me as well. No matter how bitchy I try to be he can still see the weak person hiding behind the sarcastic bitchy woman. But I nod. He’ll be racing, right? He’ll be occupied. I can hang with my dad. “Sounds good,” I say before he stands and gives me a hug. I don’t bother to face Dash or answer his question. I just turn around and walk out.

             
I make my way back to my house and just drop my purse on my bed. “Son of a bitch,” I say a little too loud when I hear the familiar roar of a Lamborghini pull up outside.

I’m coming down the stairs when I see the front door swings open and in walks Rodger
wearing a pair of plaid shorts and a polo shirt like he just walked off the golf course. “Leave.” I point back to the door. I cuss myself for forgetting to lock the front door. 

              “Tabby,” he whines. “Please, let’s talk about this.” He sounds sincere, but for the way his jaw twitches. It shows me he’s irritated about how short my dress is as his eyes linger on my exposed legs.

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” I point a finger at him. It makes my skin crawl when he calls me that.

“We can fix this. I love you
,” he says between clenched teeth.

I don’t know if I should cry or hit him. He just told me he loved me for the first time. Does he really love me? Or did he say it because he felt obligated?

I have wanted to hear those words from him for a year.
A year
. And he had never said them. But neither had I. In all honestly I know why he wants me back. It’s a game to him. He hates losing, no matter how much his father disapproves of me. It’s like his dad wants me with Rodger because of respect. They want me to submit to their way of lifestyle.

I shake my head. “Well I don’t love you.” I did
—I had loved him—but in return I hated myself. It was crazy and had me losing my mind. Thank God I finally woke up and left his ass.

“Yes you do.”
He takes a step toward me. “You can’t deny it. I know how you feel about me.” He gives me a smile that has my jaw twitching.

He’s right, he always knew. And he took advantage of that. He knew how much I hated the way he had changed me and how I had to bite my tongue and smile.

              My anger comes back and I grab a small picture frame off the wall next to me and throw it at his face. He lifts his arm and blocks it. Damn! It hits the tiled floor and shatters. “What the fuck, Tabatha?” he shouts.

I smile and shrug. He takes another step toward me with his hard face. “You’re going to come crawling back to me
,” he snaps.

The fuck I will!
“Get the fuck out, Rodger!” I scream fisting my hands down by my sides.

When he continues to just stand there
, I take a step toward him, closing in the distance. My heart pounds in my chest, and my hands are sweating. I’m actually terrified to stand up to him. But it’s been a long time coming. The old me would fall to her knees and cry like a fucking child. Ask him to take me to bed and make me his ‘good girl’.