Dragon's Lair (Wind Dragons MC #1)(2)

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at him. He’s not the boss of me. Yes, he’s a badass, sexy man who I had one night of hot, passionate sex with, but that doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do. I might have liked him bossy in bed, but this right here is a different story.

He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself. “I’ve been looking for you for two days. I’m trying not to lose my f*ckin’ temper here, Faye, but you’re pushing me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this patient in my f*ckin’ life.”

This is him patient?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply, lifting my chin up.

We stare at each other, the tension building.

I can actually feel the moment before he snaps.

His fists clench, and the tightness in his jaw looks almost painful.

I step back, into the frame of the open bathroom door as he loses it.

He picks up the TV and throws it into the wall. The crashing sound makes me jump, but he doesn’t stop there. He punches the wall several times, then slides the few glasses off the table in one smooth movement.

More crashing.

He turns and points his finger right at me.

I gulp.

My eyes widen as he grabs my bag and starts packing anything of mine he comes across. I walk up to him and try to grab it away from him, but one deathly look has me retracting my hand.

“Temper tantrum over?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looks down at my bare feet, then at all the glass scattered on the carpet floor. “Don’t move.”

I do as I’m told as he brings me a pair of my shoes. I slide them on then look up at him.

Why does he want me to go with him? What good can come from it? What I need to do is move on with my life, and settle down somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere without sex-on-a-stick bikers and their douche lord cheating brothers. Somewhere where my parents aren’t around, and I can be myself.

“I just want to be left alone, Dex,” I say, tears forming in my eyes. I’m tired, so f*cking tired. My life isn’t meant to be like this, and I hate the fact that he’s seeing me this vulnerable.

I hate it.

I’m not this weak—not usually.

And he’s the last person I’d want to see me like this. He’s strong. Nothing touches him. I have no idea how he would handle me if I broke down right now, which is something I’m seriously close to doing.

“No, you thought running was going to solve your problems. You thought lying was going to solve your problems. You’re lucky my dipshit brother mentioned that you left, and that you were pregnant, or I wouldn’t even know that I was going to have a f*ckin’ kid!” he yells, losing his composure.

Talk about kicking me when I’m down.

“I really don’t need your shit right now,” I mutter, looking down at the floor, feeling like the worst person in the world. Because he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have told him. I can’t say what I would have done.

“You would have gone on, wouldn’t you? Your whole life without telling me,” he says in disbelief. “Don’t you think I deserved to have found this out from you?”

I think about lying, but in the end I don’t. I deserve his judgment over this. “Do you really think you could give this kid a good life?”

Wrong thing to say, but I needed to say it because that was my rationalization for leaving without a word. He shuts his expression off from me, his eyes turning cold and hard. “I guess you’re going to find out now, aren’t you?”

“How do you know this kid is even yours?” I ask, lifting my chin up. Why am I poking the tiger? I have no idea.

“I know because the condom broke that night, and you hadn’t had sex with Eric in a while,” he says, staring straight at me. “Or anyone else.”

“The condom broke?” I gape, my eyes flaring.

Well, that explains things doesn’t it?

And who is he? The sex police?

He watches me under his lashes but ignores my comment.

“Grab your shit, Faye, you have five minutes or we leave without it,” he says, sitting down on the bed. I grit my teeth but do as he says, taking my few belongings and packing them back in my bag with efficient ease.

“I’m ready,” I say, avoiding eye contact. He takes the bag from me and hikes it on his shoulder, then holds the door open. I walk out and wait for him to lead me to his car. He walks down toward the car park, and I follow a few steps behind.

“What about my car? It has some of my stuff in it,” I ask him.

“Rake will drive it home,” he says as he opens the door to a black four-wheel drive. He grips my hips and lifts me up onto the seat. My breath hitches at the contact and flashes of our night together enter my mind.

Him braced above me as he grinds into me, sweat dripping down his body.

Me on all fours in front of him, his fingers digging into my hips as he thrusts.

“Faye,” he says, snapping me out of it.

“Huh?”

“What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

“Oh, nothing,” I mumble, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

“I’ll bet. I said Rake will handle your car so don’t worry about it.”