Page 17 of Truth

When he rose, he shook his head before his eyes dipped and he grunted. He quickly picked up the box that hadn’t been destroyed with clenched jaws. After he examined the box, he took a deep breath as he watched the cars and trucks go by, destroying what was left of the one that was in the road. I guess he had a thing for rescuing shit that didn’t belong to him, but I won’t lie, his concern did soften my rage… a little.

“Where to?”

“Meaning?”

“Your whip’s not working, so where to? Or you like walking although your car is right there?” Damn, he was observant. I had no clue he knew what my car looked like.

He took a step closer, and he did that weird shit I found him doing earlier—studying me. This time, I chose to ignore him. He was nothing but trouble, and dusting a few specks of dust off didn’t change who he was. Besides, I had one vase that could be shipped off. The least I could do was take care of that. I’d have to reach out to the other buyer and work something out, which would probably include a refund.

“Truth, is it?” I arched my brow with crossed arms.

I wasn’t about to fall victim to those chocolate brown peepers coupled with his cedar-colored skin. Never mind his fully tatted arms his tank had exposed.

He snickered as if I was a comedian that had just told a joke.

“Anyway.” I waved him off since it was clear he was here to waste my time and make me feel bad in the process. “Is this thepart where you chastise me for coming to my so-called rescue without me asking you to?”

“Mercilyn, is it?”

My head involuntarily leaned back as I frowned. Who the fuck told him my real name?

“One, tie your fucking shoestrings, and you wouldn’t have fallen. Two, bring your ass on.”

He motioned for me to follow him as if he ran me. He ran the Saints. All they were in my eyes was a bunch of followers who walked around dressed alike as if they had no individual identity.

When he realized I wasn’t following him, he sauntered toward me with a sinister grin on his face. I took a step back or two. He scared me shitless even though I put up a front. I’d heard shit the more I looked into them and it only confirmed why I had to stand my ground. I also knew that he had better not touch me. I watched him closely with one hand meshed in the pockets of his jeans, the other holding his helmet. Sweat trickled down my face and neck then in between my breasts.

The breeze blew as his eyes lowered, and his tongue slowly swiped his bottom lip. I felt a pulsating between my legs as he practically had me under some spell without touching me. My eyes betrayed me that lowered and blinked at the length of his manhood. It sat up high, curved to the side, and was almost the length of his damn thigh. I gulped when the space between us had vanished. He was damn near on top of me. My chest heaved as my mouth hung low.

Was he about to kiss me? Of course, he wasn’t... until he did.

I could feel his breath and taste the remnants of weed he’d smoked and the mint he’d eaten. I was so caught up I didn’t realize my mouth was still open when he pulled away. My peepers shot open, and there he stood with a grin on his face. Fuck me. I wanted to faint.

“You know this is harassment,” I mumbled in embarrassment.

I roughly swiped my lips, pushing away anything that reminded me we’d just kissed. Instead of responding, he bent down, yanked at my shoestrings, and tied it. They were Vans that were dated but my favorite pair. When he was done, he shoved them underneath the tongue of my tennis shoe and grabbed his precious helmet he’d sat on the ground.

“This way, they won’t fall out again.”

“This way, they won’t fall out again,” I replied, mocking him in a whiny tone.

He muttered something else under his breath. I think I heard “crazy ass,” yet it was him that was fucking with me.

“Screw you. Now, can you move?” I waved him off, but he didn’t budge. What was up with him? Instead, the corners of his lips curled as his way of antagonizing me.

“Cool. Figure out how to get home, but don’t say I didn’t try to help your mean ass. Couldn’t fucking smile if you tried. The fuck made you so miserable?”

“Says the man that practically knocked over an innocent man the other day. Sounds pretty miserable to me.”

“You mean back there at the pizza shop with ole boy? Your little date?” He grinned.

“It wasn’t a date,” I countered until I realized I didn’t owe him any explanation. “Look, can—" His smile was short-lived when he looked down and picked up my hand, cutting me off.

“That nigga you with have you fighting?” He frowned as if it disgusted him.

“W-what?” I stammered.

Surely, he couldn’t be referencing Kane. He was the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met. A little too country for me, but he had a heart of gold.

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