Fire & Brimstone
Page 32
“There’s a first aid kit in the break room,” she said, quickly stepping past him and opened the door, but since that really wasn’t going to work for him, he turned around and tried to look appropriately innocent.
“Oh my God! What the hell did he do to you?” she gasped as she placed her hands over her mouth, staring at the bruises covering his chest and stomach with something close to horror.
He shrugged, making sure to cringe so that it looked like the movement pained him. “He kept knocking me down,” he said, which was technically true since his asshole cousins and brothers had taken their turns knocking him down during a pickup game of football this past weekend as payback for banning them from the Fire & Brimstone. It hadn’t mattered if he had the ball or was even on their fucking team.
Assholes.
He really hated those bastards, he thought with a sigh even as he was forced to bite back a smile at the memory of knocking each and every one of those assholes down until they’d screamed for their wives and mothers to make him stop.
“These look like they really hurt,” she said, worrying her bottom lip as she took in one horrible bruise after another.
“They really do,” he lied, hoping that she didn’t notice that the bruises on his chest were a few days old since that would just wreck everything.
Still worrying that full bottom lip of hers that he’d imagined sliding up and down his shaft over the past week, she said, “Maybe we should put some ice on it?”
Ice was good. Ice meant avoiding the break room and all the nosy bastards that worked for him. It was probably for the best if he wanted to fix his fuckup. Deciding that it was best that he move on this before she changed her mind, he nodded, grabbed her hand, threw the door open and headed for the security door.
“Again with the manhandling?” she asked, sighing heavily, but she didn’t pull her hand away or suggest that they just grab some ice from the machine and do this downstairs.
As long as he got her upstairs where they could be alone, he was happy. While she tended to all the marks on his body he could figure out a way to get her to forgive him for being an asshole. It was a long shot, but at the moment it was all he had.
In less than sixty seconds he had her upstairs, in his apartment and the door securely closed and locked behind them. Thankfully he didn’t have to convince her to stay and tend to him since he’d already played out the Mojo bullshit to make her feel guilty enough to do it on her own. Yes, it was a fucked up thing to do and no, he really didn’t fucking care as long as it got him what he wanted.
Rebecca back in his arms where she belonged.
*-*-*-*
“You want to tell me what really happened?” she asked while she filled a large Ziploc bag with ice from the ice dispenser in his kitchen.
“Your vicious, psychotic dog beat the shit out of me, stole my wallet and then went on a joyride to Vegas where he married a slutty poodle named Fluffy,” he said dryly, making her chuckle as she pressed the bag closed.
“I see,” she murmured thoughtfully as she walked back into the section of the large open room that he’d set up as his living room and tossed the bag of ice to him.
“He’s a cruel, fat bastard,” he said with a wink as he easily caught the bag and placed it on his chest, reminding her that under that asshole exterior that he showed the world that he was actually charming.
When he wanted to be, and apparently right now, he wanted to be.
“That he is,” she murmured in agreement as she walked over to the leather chair across from him and sat down. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Your dog viciously attacking me isn’t enough?” he asked with a wince as he shifted the ice pack to a particularly nasty looking bruise.
Frowning, she nodded towards the bruises covering his chest. “What really happened?”
“Family gathering,” was all he said, but there was a look in his eye that told her that he’d gave as good as he got, maybe even better.
“So, why the pretense to get me up here?” she asked, in absolutely no mood to play anymore of these games with him.
The women that he’d dated in the past might have been okay with this hot/cold treatment that he seemed to be dishing out to her, but she wasn’t. If a man wanted to be with her then she expected him to act like it, not ignore her unless he wanted something from her. The moment that he’d decided to act like she didn’t exist was the moment that he’d lost whatever chance he might have had with her.
He watched her for a moment before he closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the couch. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?”
“Big time,” she readily agreed.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said and she honestly couldn’t agree more.
“You said it, not me,” she said, getting to her feet and headed for the door, deciding that it would be for the best if they just let whatever this thing was between them die a quick, merciful death. “I have to get back to work,” she said, walking towards the door.
“Before you go, could you do me a favor? Could I have a Coke?” he asked and even though she wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove that Coke, she couldn’t forget what he’d done for her.
“Sure,” she said with a sigh as she headed right back into that meticulously organized kitchen, wondering why he was bothering with her now. He knew better. At least, she thought he did, but then again-
“What the hell?” she mumbled as she opened the refrigerator door and realized that he might have a small problem with OCD, but also that he’d marked more than half the items in the refrigerator with a “Gluten Free,” label. Frowning, she shut the refrigerator door and opened the cabinet door closest to her and found the same thing had been done for all the dry goods.
Why would he do something like this?
“I wanted to make sure that you had something to eat when you were here,” he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I fucked up and I’m sorry, Rebecca. The Fire & Brimstone has been my life for as long as I can remember. It’s always come first in my life and the fact that you make me want to forget that scares the hell out of me,” he whispered, holding her tightly as though he never wanted to let her go.
Closing her eyes and telling herself that this was probably the biggest mistake of her life, she placed her hand over the arm that held her tightly and took the biggest risk of her life.
“Oh my God! What the hell did he do to you?” she gasped as she placed her hands over her mouth, staring at the bruises covering his chest and stomach with something close to horror.
He shrugged, making sure to cringe so that it looked like the movement pained him. “He kept knocking me down,” he said, which was technically true since his asshole cousins and brothers had taken their turns knocking him down during a pickup game of football this past weekend as payback for banning them from the Fire & Brimstone. It hadn’t mattered if he had the ball or was even on their fucking team.
Assholes.
He really hated those bastards, he thought with a sigh even as he was forced to bite back a smile at the memory of knocking each and every one of those assholes down until they’d screamed for their wives and mothers to make him stop.
“These look like they really hurt,” she said, worrying her bottom lip as she took in one horrible bruise after another.
“They really do,” he lied, hoping that she didn’t notice that the bruises on his chest were a few days old since that would just wreck everything.
Still worrying that full bottom lip of hers that he’d imagined sliding up and down his shaft over the past week, she said, “Maybe we should put some ice on it?”
Ice was good. Ice meant avoiding the break room and all the nosy bastards that worked for him. It was probably for the best if he wanted to fix his fuckup. Deciding that it was best that he move on this before she changed her mind, he nodded, grabbed her hand, threw the door open and headed for the security door.
“Again with the manhandling?” she asked, sighing heavily, but she didn’t pull her hand away or suggest that they just grab some ice from the machine and do this downstairs.
As long as he got her upstairs where they could be alone, he was happy. While she tended to all the marks on his body he could figure out a way to get her to forgive him for being an asshole. It was a long shot, but at the moment it was all he had.
In less than sixty seconds he had her upstairs, in his apartment and the door securely closed and locked behind them. Thankfully he didn’t have to convince her to stay and tend to him since he’d already played out the Mojo bullshit to make her feel guilty enough to do it on her own. Yes, it was a fucked up thing to do and no, he really didn’t fucking care as long as it got him what he wanted.
Rebecca back in his arms where she belonged.
*-*-*-*
“You want to tell me what really happened?” she asked while she filled a large Ziploc bag with ice from the ice dispenser in his kitchen.
“Your vicious, psychotic dog beat the shit out of me, stole my wallet and then went on a joyride to Vegas where he married a slutty poodle named Fluffy,” he said dryly, making her chuckle as she pressed the bag closed.
“I see,” she murmured thoughtfully as she walked back into the section of the large open room that he’d set up as his living room and tossed the bag of ice to him.
“He’s a cruel, fat bastard,” he said with a wink as he easily caught the bag and placed it on his chest, reminding her that under that asshole exterior that he showed the world that he was actually charming.
When he wanted to be, and apparently right now, he wanted to be.
“That he is,” she murmured in agreement as she walked over to the leather chair across from him and sat down. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Your dog viciously attacking me isn’t enough?” he asked with a wince as he shifted the ice pack to a particularly nasty looking bruise.
Frowning, she nodded towards the bruises covering his chest. “What really happened?”
“Family gathering,” was all he said, but there was a look in his eye that told her that he’d gave as good as he got, maybe even better.
“So, why the pretense to get me up here?” she asked, in absolutely no mood to play anymore of these games with him.
The women that he’d dated in the past might have been okay with this hot/cold treatment that he seemed to be dishing out to her, but she wasn’t. If a man wanted to be with her then she expected him to act like it, not ignore her unless he wanted something from her. The moment that he’d decided to act like she didn’t exist was the moment that he’d lost whatever chance he might have had with her.
He watched her for a moment before he closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the couch. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?”
“Big time,” she readily agreed.
“I’m a fucking idiot,” he said and she honestly couldn’t agree more.
“You said it, not me,” she said, getting to her feet and headed for the door, deciding that it would be for the best if they just let whatever this thing was between them die a quick, merciful death. “I have to get back to work,” she said, walking towards the door.
“Before you go, could you do me a favor? Could I have a Coke?” he asked and even though she wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove that Coke, she couldn’t forget what he’d done for her.
“Sure,” she said with a sigh as she headed right back into that meticulously organized kitchen, wondering why he was bothering with her now. He knew better. At least, she thought he did, but then again-
“What the hell?” she mumbled as she opened the refrigerator door and realized that he might have a small problem with OCD, but also that he’d marked more than half the items in the refrigerator with a “Gluten Free,” label. Frowning, she shut the refrigerator door and opened the cabinet door closest to her and found the same thing had been done for all the dry goods.
Why would he do something like this?
“I wanted to make sure that you had something to eat when you were here,” he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “I fucked up and I’m sorry, Rebecca. The Fire & Brimstone has been my life for as long as I can remember. It’s always come first in my life and the fact that you make me want to forget that scares the hell out of me,” he whispered, holding her tightly as though he never wanted to let her go.
Closing her eyes and telling herself that this was probably the biggest mistake of her life, she placed her hand over the arm that held her tightly and took the biggest risk of her life.
