Page 49 of Throttle

“You’re not sleeping on that piece of shit.” He lets me go, only to crawl under my sheets.

Fine, whatever. We've shared a bed before. Mine’s a queen, but he makes it look like a futon.

I slide in next to him, our arms touching, and catch a glimpse of his closed eyes. His shallow breaths fade away, leaving him in peaceful serenity.

My sight lingers for a minute, and I can't help but touch the cross tattoo on his forearm with my fingertips. Unthinking, I trace each one, stopping only at the last, just above his boxers.

He startles me as he grabs my hand. “That tickles.”

Our gaze remains locked, impossible to break, as if the moments stand still.

“Time to sleep, my rose.” He spins, the muscles on his back staring at me, but disappointment rushes through me.

Clutching the sheet against my chest, I find slumber.

“You don’t have any food here.”

With a yawn, I collapse into the chair beside the kitchen counter. “Can you explain why you're so energetic and noisy in the mornings?”

“I intended to make us breakfast, but there's nothing here to cook. What the hell do you eat?”

“I usually grab something in between school and my shifts at the club. I had pizza, but someone ate it.” Yes, I eat like a typical broke college student daily.

He leans against the counter, his shoulders slumping and his head bowing. “You’re making this extremely hard for me to leave you here.”

I give his shoulder a gentle pat and grin. “It’s okay. I promise,” I lie. But it’s better than admitting defeat. I confess, I wish him to rescue me like a knight in shining armor and transport me from this terrible place.

His gaze lifts and burns intensely. "I'll take you to breakfast before I return to the club. Get dressed."

“It’s fine. You don’t need to do that.”

“Go. Now. Before I consider spanking you for not having anything to eat here.”

I cackle but stop when he doesn’t laugh with me. His brow lifts and his mouth is taunt. I'm experiencing a surge of heat in my cheeks, chest, and between my legs. If it was any other man, I’d be shaking in my boots. But for Throttle, sprawl me out on his lap while he teaches me a lesson.

Oh, boy.

In a hurry, I race to my room and change as fast as lightning without uttering a single word.

After primping and prepping, I give Nemo his breakfast, then we both leave. Because it’s getting colder, I wear my skinny jeans that fit into my low-rise boots and a loose-fitting sweater and run my fingers through my hair for quick volume.

Upon opening the door, I’m greeted by the sound of voices, immediately unsettling my stomach. It may be early, but it's no shock Jasper and his buddy are smoking a joint above the steps.

From what I can tell, they never slept. But I pray to the gods, he ignores us.

He’s high, as he wears a smug grin directed at me.

I cringe as I go ahead, striding past him without looking him in the eye, with Throttle trailing closely behind me.

"When will you stop rejecting me and come sit on Jasper's lap," he says, prompting laughter from him and his friend.

The clunking noise made by Throttle's boots ceases. As I turn, the muscles in his shoulders tense. Oh no…

He advances toward Jasper, standing only a few steps away.

“Throttle, wait—” I go to intercept but it’s no use.

“Repeat what you just said.” Throttle’s voice is unrecognizable. The once gentle and playful sound is now deep and menacing. It can cause a shudder to anyone listening.

---