Page 57 of Savage Heart

“Fine, but it itches like a bitch.” Liz shrugged again, and Trouble hated it. The first two weeks, he and Liz had gotten into a pattern of awkward yet easy, where they’d act like they were roommates getting to know one another while ignoring the hot pink elephant in the room. It was a pattern he truly believed would lead to her being comfortable enough with him to hear him out about what really happened that night at Tipped. But then…Friday…it was like someone hit the rewind button, and Lizhad retreated into the shell he’d been working on cracking and breaking since she’d moved in.

Sighing softly, Trouble tossed his keys and wallet into the bowl on the coffee table, and gave Liz a look that said,“we’re going to be talking about this later.”

She pinched her lips and crossed her good arm over her chest to grab her cast. In that moment, she looked like a kid, wrapping herself up to protect her soft tissues. Like she needed protecting fromhim.

What the fuck happened on Friday that fucked shit up for him?

Biting back a curse, he said, “I’m gonna grab a shower real quick, don’t wait on dinner for me. I’ll be out as fast as I can.”

With that, he walked past her, breathing in the scent of orange blossoms and dark chocolate, and headed down the hallway to his room. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, his head thumping softly against the wood. He closed his eyes, ignoring—not for the first time in three weeks—the erect cock in his jeans, because although the idea of fucking Liz was a great one, he needed to see things through. He needed her to hear him out, to understand why he did what he did. Once she realized that what she believed happened didn’t actually happen, he was hopeful things would smooth out.

But first, he needed to find out what the fuck happened on Friday.

He pushed off the door and undressed quickly, heading into his bathroom to rush through his shower. Once dried, he pulled on a pair of cotton pajama bottoms, and a long-sleeved, dark blue Henley. He rarely wore underwear; he hated how much they constricted his nine-inch cock and made his balls all sweaty. His going commando was something Liz never complained about; she’d always liked having quick and easyaccess to him—to suck him or ride him whenever she got hungry for him.

Even now, he didn’t miss the way her gaze would often drift to and stay on the bulge in his pants. He recognized the heat in her eyes, the way her cheeks would grow pink, and her chest would rise and fall in quick pants as she fought her reaction to him. Soon, though, she wouldn’t have to fight it, because he’d have her in his bed, and they’d be giving in to every need and desire they had for one another.

Hurrying from his room, he nearly crowed when he saw Liz was alone in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the delicious smelling casserole. She sprinkled a handful of crushed Doritos over the top, then brushed her hand over her pants to wipe off the cheese dust. It left clear evidence on her black yoga pants.

He chuckled, loving how the little of imperfection only made her look that much more adorable.

When she turned around, she gasped, clearly surprised he was standing just behind her, close enough for him to feel the heat from her body. Damn, she must have been all up in her head to not have noticed him get that close, because she was always tuned into him, even after all the years apart. It was the same for him; she could enter a crowded room, and he’d know it, feel the electricity pulse through the air like a live wire skipping over his nerve endings. It had made putting on a show with Amelia that much easier. He felt Liz enter the room, then he’d ramp up his activities with Amelia, knowing Liz was incoming, that she would see them. And it never failed to make him feel like shit. A coward. A pathetic sack of assholes.

Just like his pa, who went out of his way to hurt his wife and son, just because it felt good, just because it made them hurt. The man was a coward and a sadist…and the apple didn’t fall far from that particular rotten tree.

Thrusting those thoughts aside, he raised a hand and pushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear, luxuriating in the silkiness of the hair against the roughness of his fingers.

“Shit, Trouble, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she snapped, glaring at him. He couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t tense at his touch, or step back, or comment about it. Good, even though she was stabbing him with her eyes. But it wasn’t the glare that caught his attention, it was the way her nipples were poking through her top, and the way her cheeks flushed, and the way her eyes—though glaring death at him—were darkening…from cornflower blue to a midnight navy.

She was turned on—and she was fighting it.

Before he could do anything about it, she opened her mouth and killed his hard on.

“Get that look off your face, Erika will be back any second,” she whisper-yelled, her gaze moving to the hallway. “She wanted to wait for you before we ate, but she’s been in and out of her room to see if you’re back yet.”

He nodded, sighing. Guess that was something he had to get used to; cockblocking progeny.

Since he couldn’t grab Liz’s waist and drag her supple body into his chest, and grind his dick into her soft belly, he had to make do with asking her what the fuck was up with her.

Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, and peered down at her. His eyes intense on her, he could see from the way she tensed, she hated it.

“What?” she snapped, huffing.

He smirked, loving that he was getting to her. She couldn’t fake her reactions to him, and the fact she had reactions at all, meant there was definitely a chance for him to get in there with her. He just needed to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.

“What happened on Friday?” he asked, his gaze intent on her, watching her.

At his question, anger flashed through her eyes, before disappearing behind her professional mask.

“What are you talking about? Nothing happened Friday,” she said, her tone the one she used on patients.

No, hell no, she wasn’t going to “Doctor Liz” this shit.

Shaking his head, he taunted, “Come on, Skizzy, it isn’t like you to lie.” She snorted, rolling her eyes. “I know somethin’ happened on Friday, because up until then, we had a good thing goin’. We were talkin’, we were gettin’ to know each other again, and you weren’t as tense as you are now. Since Friday, you’ve gotten quiet, you’ve pulled back, and I want to know why.” When things got awkward, his Texas came through. It had been decades since he’d left Skimmer, and he’d lost a bit of the twang, but in moments like this, when he felt the words bone deep, the thickest parts of his roots surfaced.

Bracing for a cyclone, Trouble was wary when silence met his words. She was still glaring at him, but there was something working behind that glare. Her shoulders were tense, her posture stiff, as if she were just barely keeping herself from making a run for it.

“You know what? You’re right. Things were going well—surprisingly. It was nice to not have to beonall the time, letting the hate and bitterness fill every moment of my day. I actually enjoyed sitting and talking with you, hearing about you and your club brothers. It was also amazing to sit and talk about Erika with you, share with you about the little girl that means the fucking world to me.” She pinched her lips together, her hands clenching into fists. She leaned into him, her body hot and vibrating with rage. “What I didnotenjoy was having your ol’ lady get in my face,inmy place of work, and talk shit about my kid.”

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