Page 9 of Bad Like Me

8

Crow

I practicedwhat I would say to her as I paced back and forth on their porch. This shouldn’t be this damn hard. We didn’t owe anything to each other, but for some reason, I felt the need to explain to her why I quit calling. I didn’t have a reason; we both were guilty of that and traveling to see each other. Society might say I regretted it, but what the hell did those assholes know anyway? Those shits used to think the world was flat, plus, I didn’t owe them anything either. Fuck! This was stupid. I could bag a club skank and not once had my confidence faltered like it did with Ray.

“Fuck,” a female voice shouted, and the bushes at the corner of the porch shook.

“Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck are you doing in the bush?” I asked setting the box of doughnuts on the porch, something I couldn’t do at home because Bologna, my dog, would have tackled the shit as soon as it was out of my hands. Thankfully, Wren was keeping him for the time being. She always did during this time of year since he was too big to throw on the back of my Harley, and I wasn’t home enough to take care of him.

“Well, I…I’m stuck.”

I crept down the stairs and to the bush. This, I had to see for myself. She was drenched from head to toe, and somehow, a branch was strung through a belt loop of her jeans. A smile pulled at my lips, and before I knew it, my sides heaved with silent laughter. It didn’t take any time for the silence to find volume and my stomach to ache from how hard I was laughing. “How in the hell did you manage this?” I spat out in between chuckles, trying to catch my breath.

“Quit being a shit, Logan! Fucking help me,” she groused and tried to kick me with her left foot, but I wasn’t remotely close enough for her to do so. Hearing her say my name was a surreal moment. I’d missed her voice, and I wasn’t aware of it until this moment. I used to love it when she said my name, regardless of the emotion behind it.

“Logan, seriously!” She wiggled her ass. The bush shook, a few leaves falling on her face, and she glared at them and then me.

“Alright, fine. You don’t have to be a drama queen.” I snickered once more, grabbing the limb in both of my palms and snapping it to free her.

“We both know I’m not a drama queen.” She straightened her legs, brushing random leaves off her soaked clothes and pulled at her shirt that clung to her body. Now that I could actually see her, all of her, my mouth watered at the sight. She was the same girl I loved so many years ago, but the world had seasoned her into a beautiful woman. Her hair was long and brown the last time I saw her, but now, it was short and a pinkish-red color. I’d seen the color on a few women around the club and hated it, but on her, it was fucking sexy as hell. She had a little more ink than the last time we saw one another, and I didn’t know who her artist was, but damn, they had done an excellent job. Really, given the canvas, someone couldn’t fuck up a tattoo too much. Anything would look gorgeous on her skin.

“I’m not,” she whined, her deep brown eyes searing me with a storm of emotions.

“You’re not,” I mechanically repeated, my eyes glued to hers as I offered my hand to help her off the ground.

She sucked in a hesitant breath and chewed on the corner of her mouth as if trying to decide if she should accept my assistance or deny it. She slowly placed her palm in mine, and it was like fucking wildfire spread throughout my entire body. I don’t think I’d ever been so turned on by such a tiny gesture. Ray didn’t trust easily, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt, she wouldn’t put her faith in me ever again. I’d never been so happy to be wrong.

My dick throbbed with desire, and my balls ached with need. This was bad, and I couldn’t deny it, but I didn’t want it to stop either. I drank the fucking Kool-Aid her body offered me and was thirsty for more.

“So…what are you doing here?” Her eyes roamed over my face before flashing to our joined hands, and she jerked away from me, brushing her fingers through her hair.

“Why are you all wet?” I barely managed to say, and both of us froze. The exchange between us was excruciating. If she were anyone else, I would take her inside and fuck her brains out, but she wasn’t. She was her, and I was me. Too much history preceded today, and along with that came hurt feelings and unspoken words.

“Umm. So, how about those Browns?” She changed the subject as fast as she could and walked around the porch and up the stairs.

“I fucking hate sports.”

“I know. So do I.”

“Then why bring them up?” I probed and bent to pick up the box of doughnuts, opening the lid and pushing them in her direction. “Doughnut?”

“Why buy three glazed?” She immediately rebounded, grabbing one and lifting it to my mouth. I bit down on it, and she grabbed one for herself, taking a huge bite and then met my gaze. “Talking has never been our strong area, so let’s skip it.”

My eyebrows furrowed together, and just as I was about to protest, she spoke again, “Just for a little bit? From the look on your face and the amount of pacing you were doing, you hadn’t planned on seeing me any more than I did you. Let’s eat these and then we can talk. Okay?”

I slowly nodded and curled my tongue around the doughnut in my mouth—it almost dropped out—until we were inside and I set the box down to grab it.

“Okay.” I agreed, but really, I had no fucking clue what I had consented to do.

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