Page 139 of Fearless

Her heart fluttered hard at that.

“And yeah. Drop him. I won’t share you.”

She pushed harder. “Get up, please.”

He sighed dramatically, but climbed off of her, zipped up his jeans and folded his arms, stared at her.

Ava sat up and tugged her skirt down. Stepped into her panties.

“Leave the shirt open,” he said.

“No.”

“I want to look at you.”

She pulled her bra cups back in place and fastened them with a decisivesnap. She gave him a pointed look as she started doing up the buttons. “If I break up with someone who’s willing to be my boyfriend, you’ll just hurt me again.”

A complex series of expressions moved across his face. “Break up with him anyway.”

“Mercy.” She was getting exasperated. “I’m not a teenager anymore, and you never wanted to be my old man; you can’t order me around,” she said, gently, filled with a sense that she was hurting him somehow, and still weak enough to care if she did.

He unfolded his arms, and she saw the blood on them, the deep gouges she’d dug with her nails.

“Shit. Someone’s going to see that.”

He cocked one black brow. “Now who’s worried about being secret?”

The rain had softened, just a gentle pattering against the window. She couldn’t hear the sirens anymore, and the thunder was only a low growl, growing more distant.

She had no idea what to say to him, how to fast forward beyond this. Sneaking around held none of its old thrill. And as the warmth faded, the anxiety came rushing back, her anger at her parents, at Ronnie, at both Mason Stephens, at Mercy – life in general.

She pushed her damp hair back and realized all the bobby pins were gone. Whatever.

“I’ll go back first,” she said, easing to her feet, her legs feeling like half-cooked spaghetti noodles. “You’ll have to come in after. And do something about your arms.”

He caught her around the waist as she moved toward the door, spun her around so she faced him, locked tight in his embrace. “My arms?” He smirked. “You’re gonna walk away and not even apologize. I’m bleeding.”

She sighed. “Stop.”

“I’m just saying – you cut a guy up like a mountain lion, you should say sorry.”

She managed a thin smile. “Sorry.” Her eyes were burning again. “God, what are we–”

He ducked his head and kissed her, cutting her off. The kind of rough, wet kiss that would go somewhere, if she let it.

Ava pulled back, the breath trembling in her lungs.

“Break up with him,” he said softly, “or I’ll put his head through a window.”

She shoved away from him, hard, and he let her go. “Leave me alone.” And she rushed out the door before he had a chance to catch hold of her again.

It was still misting, the clouds still gray and angry. Steam licked up off the pavement, thick as dry ice vapors. Her heels rapping the asphalt echoed strangely in the damp atmosphere, sounding too-conspicuous. Her legs wobbled, and she was afraid she’d trip and go sprawling. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked a bedraggled mess. She could smell the sex on herself.

Damn, she was stupid.

The guys were elbow-deep in sandwiches and beer when she walked back into the clubhouse. Maggie glanced up at her entrance, and her laser-guided mother-gaze took Ava’s appearance in in less than a second, and her eyes flashed because she knew exactly what had happened.

Ava grabbed her purse and keys off the bar and said, “I’m going home. I don’t feel well,” without glancing full-on at her mom.

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