DARE: A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

He chose to throw her off, but only so he could finish it his way, just as he had earlier. She giggled, knowing how much she’d blown his mind and anticipating what he’d do in return.

He dipped her in his arms and kissed her several times. Deep, manly kisses she didn’t want to end. Then he bent her in front of him, gripped her by the hips and took her doggie-style again. No holds barred. It was every bit as thrilling and accurate and overpowering as she remembered. Holly was already tired out, sore, and aching—she was using muscles she just wasn’t used to using—but by the end, when he grabbed her by the hair and gave her everything he had, she was utterly spent and floundering. Her arms could barely lift her an inch off the sofa, while her moans of ecstasy could barely escape the cushion she was biting into.

She saw the shattered rainbow again. Shortly after, he desisted and flopped down beside her once more. “Fuck’s sake,” he said between gasps. “I needed that.”

Not as much as I did,
she thought.

Through every gap between the houses and palm trees to her left, the low-angled sun blazed through the side window of her cab, blinding her in often-rapid flickers. It was annoying, like a vengeful younger sibling who was gloating because Big Sis had been out all night without permission and was
so
going to get it when Mom and Dad came home. Holly fidgeted like crazy, twining her purse strap around her fingers and picking at the seam in the seat next to her.

Why was it, after all Trey had done to her, that
she
should feel so guilty about sleeping with another man? It didn’t make sense. It was not rational. Her boyfriend had openly admitted to cheating on her; he’d dirty-danced with the Slavic ring slut in full view of everyone, especially Holly; he’d subjected her to his crazy mood swings and called her every name under the sun (and invented a few). He’d lied, belittled, choked, and even
hit
her, but still she felt guilty for cheating on him, even though, technically, she hadn’t done anything of the sort because he’d dumped her ass yesterday!

She should be on cloud nine right now—a part of her still was—but Holly was a nervous wreck by the time the cab dropped her off outside her soon-to-be-former home. For one thing, she looked a mess: no makeup, bags under her eyes, aggressively de-styled hair. Any one of those things would be a red flag to Trey’s bull, but all three, together with her absence last night…

Maybe she should call 9-1-1.

No. They
had
split up yesterday. And he’d
told
her he was having an affair. She had some leeway here. Even he couldn’t be such a hypocrite. Could he?

Holly just didn’t know anymore. Dare had nicknamed him Section Eight, which was a bit cruel in her view. He hadn’t known the old Trey, the one she’d fallen in love with. Try as she might, Holly could not reconcile the two—high school Trey and Section Eight Trey. There was no connecting thread to explain how nasty he’d become.

She crept through the garden in which she’d spent so much time. It was feral, almost ugly, and full of dead plants or stupidly overgrown ones. She turned her key so softly in the front door lock that it didn’t make a sound.

The house was quiet. No hip-hop playing in the living room. No whir from his coffee machine or whine from his blender—Trey liked to make his own drinks, especially smoothies. And no smell of deodorant. He was normally up and about by now, getting ready for his morning run. Either he was still upstairs, probable after a night of hard partying, or he wasn’t at home.

She checked every room in the house and found no sign that he’d been back at all. For the first time since leaving Dare’s house, she grinned.

This was her chance to pack up and get out without a scene and without ever having to see Trey again. But where to start?

Okay, it’s time to prioritize. Time to get ruthless.

Holly fetched two of her biggest suitcases from the top shelf of the closet and started filling them with clothes she absolutely couldn’t live without. It surprised her, how practical and pragmatic she could be; she’d spent so long browsing in the stores to decide on all this stuff, and here she was, sifting through it like the speediest packer in a sweatshop.

All those designer label shoes she’d be leaving behind. Whatever. He could have ‘em. Ditto the cocktail dresses and expensive lingerie and all the other shit he’d bought to sexy her up. She didn’t need any of that anymore, not from him. Dare Bowden thought she was hot as fuck. He’d told her so. That was good enough for Holly Watkins…

…who was suddenly so glad she hadn’t married her asshole of a boyfriend. She’d wanted it for so long, had waited for so long for him to propose, but he’d never taken the hint. And here she was, still Watkins.

Jeans, slacks, yoga pants, a few summer dresses: those were more her style now. Starting from scratch meant reinventing herself—
for
herself.

It was stuffy in the bedroom, so she opened a window. Through the decaying foliage, she glimpsed the front of a cab parked at the edge of the drive. Then it set off and a suited figure walked toward the house.

Crap. Looks like I won’t be sneaking away after all.

Holly steeled herself, decided to just keep her head down and get on with it. She’d almost finished packing her essentials. The rest wouldn’t take long. Anything he might contest, that he might claim belonged to him, she wouldn’t touch. He’d paid for most of it anyway. Let him give it to his ring whore.

When he reached the bedroom, he didn’t say a word. He just stood there at the door, the top half of his shirt torn open. Holly wondered if he’d been in a fight. But he reeked of lady’s perfume, and he didn’t bear any marks or bruises that she could see. It had to have been the ring whore who’d ripped his shirt open in the midst of passion. She’d rather not think about it.

Holly ignored him while she packed, but he didn’t move an inch. For minutes, he stood there, leaving her to guess exactly what was going through his mind. She felt his gaze on her back…that twisted, judging gaze.

“So how did it feel?” His words sounded cold and calibrated.

“How did what feel?” Still she didn’t look him in the eye.

“Getting revenge,” he said.

Holly didn’t want to dignify that with a reply.

“Who is he? Another fighter?”

She stayed silent.

“You were always sly,” he said. “Look at you…you won’t even admit it. You won’t even admit when you’ve fucked someone to get even.” The coldness in his words began to thaw. He was working himself up. “Who is he?”

Holly said nothing. She packed her hairdryer and brushes.

“What’s his name?”

Nothing.

“You busted
my
balls over my phone call. So now it’s my turn. You fucking nagged me until I told you what you wanted to know. So here it is…what’s his name?”

Still she ignored him.

“I want to know his name, slut.”

Holly lashed him with her gaze. How
dare
the prick call her that after what he’d done.

“Aha, there she is.
There
she is. There’s my vengeful little slut. Won’t admit it with words, but everything else about her tells me exactly what she got up to last night.”

“Shut up, Trey.”

“Why should I?”

“Just let me pack my things and get out. There’s nothing else to say.”

“You’ve already said it all. You left the party early last night. You’re still in the dress you were wearing, so you haven’t been back long from whoever’s house you stayed at all night. You haven’t fixed your hair. You haven’t washed; I can smell the prick on you. And you’re staying silent because you’re a guilty little crack whore who fucked some random fighter you only met last night. So you see…you’ve already said it all. You’ve just not admitted it.” He took his first step toward her. “Who is he?”

“You’re delusional.”

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took another step. “Is it the first time?”

“No, it’s the last time. The last time I’ll ever have to put up with your shit.” Holly jammed her trainers into the loaded suitcase, then almost ripped the zip as she yanked it shut.

“You’re not leaving this room until you admit it.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“What’s his name?”

“You’re crazy.”

“Who is he?”

“Someone your diseased brain has dreamed up.” She flinched when he raised his arm to massage his neck. A false alarm, but the veins in his neck were starting to bulge. “Just go away, Trey. Leave me alone.”

“When you admit what you did and tell me his name, then you can go.”

Holly couldn’t, both for her own sake and for Dare’s. She had to think of a way out of this without telling him anything. “First let me get my things out of here, then I’ll explain what happened. When the cab’s outside, and I’m outside, I’ll tell you.”

“Nice try. But you’re telling me now, Holly. I mean it. I want to know who the fuck was whom you went home with last night and I want to know
now.
”

She couldn’t hide the fact that she was shaking. Ring Whore’s perfume was strong and expensive; it was all over him. He gripped her by the arms from behind. His breath touched her ear.

“Holly, just tell me. Then you can go.”

“No. Not until I’m outside.”

“
Fucking tell me!
”

It made her jump. Her ears rang. Trey squeezed her upper arms.

“That hurts,” she said.

“His name.”

“Okay! Let go and I’ll tell you.”

He spun her around to face him, then he let go. His eyes were bugging out as he asked, as calmly as he could, “Who is he?”

“This guy I met.”

He slapped her hard across the cheek. It stung like a whip. Then the pain throbbed and smarted through her skull.

“What’s his name?”

“I-I didn’t get it. He gave a fake name.”

Another slap, even more venomous. “I can do this all day,” he said.

As the pain flared so did her fury. Holly saw red and spat in his face. “Fuck you, Section Eight!”

This time he backhanded her across her other cheek. She immediately tasted blood in her mouth. The idea terrified her, almost made her cry.

“Who did you screw last night?”

She mumbled, “Dare Bowden.”

“Who? I didn’t get…say it again.” Trey leaned in close. Another rush of anger got the better of her, maybe fueled by how brave and defiant Dare had encouraged her to be. Even thinking of him made her stand tall.

“Dare Bowden!”

He pulled back slowly, as if he was on a wind-up spring. There was more than hate in his face now; he looked hurt, desperately hurt, as if she’d wounded him some place he’d never thought he could be wounded.

“There. I’ve said it. So we’re even. You told me about Renata; I’ve told you about Dare.” She shuffled away from him, watching him carefully, her face throbbing like hell. “Now let me go.”

He stood there, in shock, staring at the bed. Holly didn’t bother filling the already half-full second suitcase. She’d just have to make do with what she’d already packed. All she wanted now was to get outside and walk away, put as much distance as she could between her and Trey.

“I would never have done that,” he said quietly, as though he was convincing himself of something.

She stayed silent.

“I’d never have fucked one of your enemies like that.”

“I don’t have enemies. Except you.”

“Dare Bowden?”

“Renata?”

He sucked in a long, livid breath. “You let my worst enemy get inside you?”

Holly grabbed both cases and made for the door. Crap! She’d left her purse on the bedside table. All her cards and cash and her cell phone were in there. She put her head down and marched around him. Best make this quick.

He snatched her wrist. She tried pulling away, but he was too strong. “Get off me, Trey. I mean—”