Page 51 of Ordinary Girl

“What do youwant, Ana?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I could ask you the same question, I mean, you were the one who dragged us in here.”

She’s not making this easy. “I told you before, I don’t have time for games.”

“Then it’s just as well I’m not playing any.” She comes back over to me, rests a hand against my chest, her eyes down. I tuck a finger under her chin and tilt her head up until her eyes meet mine. And I hate that my gut’s in a mess, tangled and twisted. And when I kiss her, that does nothing to calm it, it makes it worse, it fucking hurts, but her mouth on mine is a feeling I’m not willing to give up.

She responds by pressing herself against me, pushing us back against the wall, her fingers in my hair as the kiss deepens, and I’m hard as hell now. It’s the point of no fucking return but I’m not making any move until I know this is what she wants, too.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, dropping a hand to yank up her skirt, and I’m taking that as my signal. “It’s okay,” she repeats, her eyes locked on mine, she’s making sure I heard her. Understood her. “I want this.”

I nod, lifting her up, her legs wrapping around me as I push inside her and, man, she feels so fucking good! And my head is spinning, everything that’s wrong with this situation is trying to push its way forward but I’m ignoring it all, because nothing else matters except this moment. However wrong it might be.

She clings onto me, her fingers pulling at my hair, nails scratching my skin, but the pain is beautiful and welcome, and when we come it’s together in a hot mess of bucking bodies; muffled cries, her face buried in my shoulder. And I know I’m fucked, because usually this shit means nothing to me. Women have always been no more than a means to an end, but not this time. Not this time.

We stay tangled together for a few more minutes, catching our breath, letting what’s just happened here sink in. The repercussions are something I don’t have the headspace to contemplate right now, but I don’t regret shit.

She unwraps her legs from around me and I lower her down, but I keep hold of her. Keep a hand on her hip.

“If you want me to say sorry, I’ll say it. But just know that I’m not, sorry.”

She smiles, but there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s scared. Of what? Of me? She shouldn’t be scared of me. I would never hurt this girl. And I’ll make sure nobody else ever hurts her, either. “I don’t want you to be sorry.I’mnot.”

She backs away from me, my arm dropping to my side as she starts to walk away, and for a second I panic. What the fuck have I done? Was this a huge mistake…? And then she turns back around, runs to me, pushes me back against the wall, her mouth slamming down onto mine with so much force I can taste blood. And then she stops. She pulls away from me again, and she smiles. A smile so fucking beautiful it kills me. And then she leaves me there, alone. She unlocks the door and walks out, and I throw my head back, close my eyes, and I laugh…

Twenty-One

Ana

Before mama died: before she was murdered, I’d always harbored some twisted, romanticized image of a bad boy. A man who could – what? Protect me? Look after me? I’d never really needed protecting, or looking after. Mama had brought me up to be strong. Independent. And yet, I’d always gravitated toward these men. And then this club came into our lives, and turned my world on its head, and suddenly these men were evil, in my eyes. These men had caused my mama’s death, purely by being who they were. I wanted nothing to do with them. Nothing to do with this life, and I still don’t want anything to do with this life. That, I’m still fighting. But these men…? Or maybe it’s just one of them…

“Two days in a row, huh?” Cady throws herself down next to me on the battered leather couch beside the pool table in the clubhouse. “Something going on I don’t know about?”

“Like what?”

“Woah, missy, what’ve you got to be so defensive about?”

I cross my legs up underneath myself and reach for my mug of coffee. My head’s a little delicate after the party last night, and those whiskey shots I downed before, and after, Joel and I… Joel and I, what? What did we do, exactly?

“Hangover, right?” Cady smirks.

“Something like that.”

“Did you have a good time?”

I shrug. I’m not sure I did, on the whole, it was nothing more than a lot of loud music, over-cooked meat, and men huddled in corners with women draped all over them. I’d wanted to gohome as soon as I’d left Joel, but I had to wait for Dag and Freja before I could go anywhere. There were too many eyes on me because they still don’t trust me not to make a run for it.

“Do you think there’ll ever be a time when they’ll stop having me watched?” I ask, completely sidestepping any more questions about last night.

“They’re not really watching you, Ana. They’re keeping an eye on you, that’s all.” She curls her legs up underneath her, resting her arm on the back of the couch. “Do you still want to run?”

“Even if I did, what’s the point? Where would I go?”

“You’ve got no more family? Anywhere?”

I shake my head and stare down into my coffee. “Not really, no. Mama had a brother, but he died a few years ago. The only family I had was Mama, and Lars and Lea.”

My head shoots up as the clubhouse door opens, and Cady follows my gaze. “You looking for someone?”

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