Taming the Storm
Page 85
“This whole thing was a mistake.” He runs his free hand through his hair, tugging on the strands. “Fuck! I never should have started this with you.”
A mistake. If he’d hit me, it would have hurt less.
“Get off me!” I cry, trying to pull my arm free.
Having Tom touch me right now is like pouring salt in my bleeding wound.
But he doesn’t let go. It’s like he doesn’t even feel me right now.
“I never should have let this happen.” His eyes are on the pavement, his head shaking. It’s almost as if he’s not even talking to me in this moment. “I should have known this would happen…especially with a girl like you.”
A girl like me.
If I needed anything to bring me back, it was that.
I force strength into my weak body. There might still be tears on my face, but I make sure my expression is one of total anger.
“You’ve made your point.” I hold my voice steady. “I get it. You don’t care about me. I’m hearing that loud and clear. Now, let me go.”
I see what I think is a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Or maybe it’s that stupid shred of hope I’m desperately holding on to that sees it. The hope that’s willing him to tell me he doesn’t mean any of this. That he feels the same for me as I do for him.
He drops my arm, his eyes scarily hard. “The sooner I’m out of here, the fucking better.” He pulls his helmet off the handlebar. “You and me, we end here. Are we clear?”
And that hope gets trampled under his words.
I armor myself against him. “Crystal. Don’t worry. After today, you won’t ever have to see me again.” I start to walk away.
But I’m not done. Not just yet.
I turn and stare at Tom, not recognizing the person before me. The Tom I got to know these past six weeks never would have been this cruel or hurt me this badly. The Tom I spent time with, falling in love with…
Or maybe that’s just it—I never really knew Tom at all.
And that possibility hurts more than everything else.
Curling my fingers into my palm, I take a deep breath. “I wish you’d never stepped foot on that tour bus. I wish I’d never let you anywhere near me—let alone, in my heart.” A tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away. “You never deserved any part of me that I gave to you. You’re a mut of the worst kind, Tom Carter.”
His eyes lift to mine. I see what I think is a trace of hurt in them, but it’s gone so quick that I could have imagined it.
“That’s exactly what I am. It’s good you finally remembered. Now, you can take your declaration of love and tell it to someone who wants it.”
I suck in a painful breath.
My soul and whatever was left of my heart shatters to pieces.
He lifts his helmet to his head but pauses. His eyes move to mine, his gaze pinning me there.
My heart might be breaking, but I can’t look away from Tom. I never have been able to. Once he catches me with his eyes, I’m bound to him.
I don’t know what he sees on my face or what happens in this moment, but true pain fills his eyes and an agonized breath escapes him.
“You deserve better,” he says, low and rough. “You deserve better than me.”
His helmet is on, his motorcycle roars to life, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the thick of the LA traffic.
And I’m left standing here. The only things to show my time with Tom are his words echoing in my mind, my shredded heart, and the tears staining my cheeks.
An Hour Later—A Bar, Downtown LA
Lyla loves me.
She can’t love me. She can’t because…well, because I’m Tom Carter. I don’t do love.
I can’t love her. I can’t love anyone.
Never have, and I’m not about to start now for a tight pussy and awesome rack…and a beautiful smile.
Sure, I care about Lyla, but love…it never factored in.
Lyla’s a good girl who’s been dealt some shit hands in life. If she were with me, all I would do is continue to hurt her because that’s the kind of man I am.
She deserves better than me. She’s deserves a man who can—
A wave of anger has my jaw clenching, and my hand tightening around the glass of Jack at the thought of Lyla with another man.
I take a hard drink of the whiskey, trying to settle the rattled emotions inside me.
This is ridiculous. I don’t get jealous. I’m not that guy. I’m the one who doesn’t give a shit. The guy who fucks a woman and walks away, clean.
I don’t care. Ever.
And I need to stop caring about Lyla and who or what she does. Right fucking now.
It has to stop.
I need to get my life back on track.
This sleeping with only one woman has messed with my head. I just need to bang some chick, and I’ll be back to normal. And that normal needs to start now.
I let my eyes drift across the bar to the brunette who’s been staring at me since I arrived.
My eyes meet hers, and I see the look instantly.
She wants to fuck.
Perfect.
I let my eyes give her the once-over. Checking her out like I should have done the moment I arrived here.
I don’t usually lapse like this. I’ve been doing too much lapsing as of late, and that’s the problem.
This will get me back on track.
The brunette is tall, curvy. Definite hips and ass. Small tits, but I can live with it. I’m not looking to marry this chick. Just bang the hell out of her.
A mistake. If he’d hit me, it would have hurt less.
“Get off me!” I cry, trying to pull my arm free.
Having Tom touch me right now is like pouring salt in my bleeding wound.
But he doesn’t let go. It’s like he doesn’t even feel me right now.
“I never should have let this happen.” His eyes are on the pavement, his head shaking. It’s almost as if he’s not even talking to me in this moment. “I should have known this would happen…especially with a girl like you.”
A girl like me.
If I needed anything to bring me back, it was that.
I force strength into my weak body. There might still be tears on my face, but I make sure my expression is one of total anger.
“You’ve made your point.” I hold my voice steady. “I get it. You don’t care about me. I’m hearing that loud and clear. Now, let me go.”
I see what I think is a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Or maybe it’s that stupid shred of hope I’m desperately holding on to that sees it. The hope that’s willing him to tell me he doesn’t mean any of this. That he feels the same for me as I do for him.
He drops my arm, his eyes scarily hard. “The sooner I’m out of here, the fucking better.” He pulls his helmet off the handlebar. “You and me, we end here. Are we clear?”
And that hope gets trampled under his words.
I armor myself against him. “Crystal. Don’t worry. After today, you won’t ever have to see me again.” I start to walk away.
But I’m not done. Not just yet.
I turn and stare at Tom, not recognizing the person before me. The Tom I got to know these past six weeks never would have been this cruel or hurt me this badly. The Tom I spent time with, falling in love with…
Or maybe that’s just it—I never really knew Tom at all.
And that possibility hurts more than everything else.
Curling my fingers into my palm, I take a deep breath. “I wish you’d never stepped foot on that tour bus. I wish I’d never let you anywhere near me—let alone, in my heart.” A tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away. “You never deserved any part of me that I gave to you. You’re a mut of the worst kind, Tom Carter.”
His eyes lift to mine. I see what I think is a trace of hurt in them, but it’s gone so quick that I could have imagined it.
“That’s exactly what I am. It’s good you finally remembered. Now, you can take your declaration of love and tell it to someone who wants it.”
I suck in a painful breath.
My soul and whatever was left of my heart shatters to pieces.
He lifts his helmet to his head but pauses. His eyes move to mine, his gaze pinning me there.
My heart might be breaking, but I can’t look away from Tom. I never have been able to. Once he catches me with his eyes, I’m bound to him.
I don’t know what he sees on my face or what happens in this moment, but true pain fills his eyes and an agonized breath escapes him.
“You deserve better,” he says, low and rough. “You deserve better than me.”
His helmet is on, his motorcycle roars to life, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the thick of the LA traffic.
And I’m left standing here. The only things to show my time with Tom are his words echoing in my mind, my shredded heart, and the tears staining my cheeks.
An Hour Later—A Bar, Downtown LA
Lyla loves me.
She can’t love me. She can’t because…well, because I’m Tom Carter. I don’t do love.
I can’t love her. I can’t love anyone.
Never have, and I’m not about to start now for a tight pussy and awesome rack…and a beautiful smile.
Sure, I care about Lyla, but love…it never factored in.
Lyla’s a good girl who’s been dealt some shit hands in life. If she were with me, all I would do is continue to hurt her because that’s the kind of man I am.
She deserves better than me. She’s deserves a man who can—
A wave of anger has my jaw clenching, and my hand tightening around the glass of Jack at the thought of Lyla with another man.
I take a hard drink of the whiskey, trying to settle the rattled emotions inside me.
This is ridiculous. I don’t get jealous. I’m not that guy. I’m the one who doesn’t give a shit. The guy who fucks a woman and walks away, clean.
I don’t care. Ever.
And I need to stop caring about Lyla and who or what she does. Right fucking now.
It has to stop.
I need to get my life back on track.
This sleeping with only one woman has messed with my head. I just need to bang some chick, and I’ll be back to normal. And that normal needs to start now.
I let my eyes drift across the bar to the brunette who’s been staring at me since I arrived.
My eyes meet hers, and I see the look instantly.
She wants to fuck.
Perfect.
I let my eyes give her the once-over. Checking her out like I should have done the moment I arrived here.
I don’t usually lapse like this. I’ve been doing too much lapsing as of late, and that’s the problem.
This will get me back on track.
The brunette is tall, curvy. Definite hips and ass. Small tits, but I can live with it. I’m not looking to marry this chick. Just bang the hell out of her.
