Page 39 of Let Me
“You were eighteen,” he breathes, but not like he’s scared. Like he’s angry.
I force myself to wink at him. “The legal age of consent in Ontario is sixteen. That’s not the bad part, is it, Mr. Virani? The bad part is your position over me,Mr.Virani.”
And then he moves aside, and I take my chance, whisking past him and letting the door slam closed behind me.
EIGHTEEN
Present
I’VE SPENT all of Sunday morning in the backyard, sparring with Benji. He came over when I shot him a text, at the crack of dawn.
Neither of us are very good anymore, but both of us have stamina and both of us are in excellent shape. Benji more so than me. Apparently, there wasn’t much to do in prison but work out and pick fights, and when Benji’s fist connects with my face, me missing the block, I start to think this might be a bad idea.
I hold up my hand in surrender and grab the water bottle on the back deck, across from the in-ground pool. I tilt the bottle up, letting the water fall down my chin. I’m breathing hard and damn that punch hurt, but not as much as droppingheroff last night did. I waited until she got inside, and I saw her look back.
And I wanted to stay. I wanted to put the car in park and jump out and run into her arms, to feel her on my tongue again. To taste her, again. But fuck it, I couldn’t. I can’t. She doesn’t deserve it. Hell, neither do I.
Instead, I went home to Haven, in the suburbs outside of Toronto, so I can go into the office tomorrow and do my damn job. Make some more money. Maybe have Vivian come home with me, so I can forget about Riley.
“You’re thinking about her,” Benji says at my back.
I still for a moment, wondering if I spoke my thoughts out loud. But I don’t do that shit. Ever.
I take another drink of water to buy time to get the guilt out of my eyes and then I toss the bottle down on the deck and turn around.
This property is on the edge of Lake Ontario, and my nearest neighbor is half a mile away, so I don’t keep my voice down when I say, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Last night was supposed to be the end of this. But it feels like it was just the beginning.
Benji smiles darkly, runs a hand over his sweaty abs. He’s got more tattoos visible when he’s shirtless. I try not to look away from his gaze though, because he’s holding mine steady. Testing my resolve where Riley is concerned.
“You would have fought me, wouldn’t you?”
I flash him a lethal smile. “I’m fighting you now,” I point out.
He shakes his head, and there’s no humor on his face now as he steps toward me, the pool glistening beside us.
“No. You would have really fought me, last night, in the alleyway, wouldn’t you? And later, in the woods?” His jaw is tight for some reason, but he doesn’t really seem angry. He just seems deadly serious. “I told you I don’t drink anymore. I shouldn’t have touched her in that alley. But you would have beat the shit out of me,” his eyes flash as he pauses, “ortried,” he corrects himself, “and in the woods, if I had slid my fingers down her wet pussy?”
I want to hit him so hard he doesn’t wake up for a very long time. But he’s my best friend. I asked him to come last night. And right now, I can’t lie to him. Except maybe I can, because then I say, “I just don’t want you going back to prison.”
Which is true enough, but it has nothing to do with why I would have gotten between the two of them last night. I would have bashed Benji’s brains against the sidewalk if he hadn’t let go of her in the alley.
He smiles as if he knows, but it’s cold. “Keep lying to yourself, Caden. I already dealt with two guys you decked because of her.” He backs away, and gestures vaguely toward me. “Wanna go again?”
Hell yeah I do.
I want to punch that smug look right off of his too-handsome face. Because part of me, last night, was scared she would have gone with him. She likes to be scared. It was why I took her to the woods last night,withBenji. And Benji is just the kind of darkness she might want.
I don’t trust him not to resist if she does. He barely did last night.
So, I go at him, my fist connecting with his nose, and he actually lets out a grunt of pain. A weaker man would have been howling, but this is Benji, and it makes me happy to see blood gush from his nose, all over his tan skin.
I shrug. “Sorry, man,” I say, not sorry at all.
He wipes the back of his hand over his nose and shakes his head.
“I’m not.” And then he returns my punch in kind.
