The Fear That Divides Us (The Devil's Dust #3)(49)

“Okay,” I mutter mindlessly.

“Yeah?” he replies, lifting himself up from the floor to see my face, seemingly shocked by my lack of rejection.

“Just one. I don’t want to ruin what we have. Your life and mine are too different, too complex for us to mix, Bobby,” I mutter, adjusting my head on the small couch pillow that holds both mine and Bobby’s head.

“I hate to tell you this, but both of our lives are unconventional Jessica. That doesn’t mean our being together would be a bad thing,” he mumbles into the back of my neck, his breath tickling me.

I breathe deeply as his hands slide along the scars of my back tenderly, but my body doesn’t tense and my mind doesn’t flicker with distressed memories of what was. I smile, the feeling of Bobby’s fingers caressing my imperfection welcoming instead of suffocating. “Yeah. Maybe,” I whisper, closing my eyes to sleep. I knew this would happen and that both of us would break our own rules. The plan to distance ourselves going in the opposite direction. It was inevitable with the overwhelming hold we have on each other. It scares me that I may lose the only person in this world who could take what is left of my heart and burn it.

***

Waking up this morning, my body’s sore from the abuse Bobby so deliciously delivered last night. My hand swipes the hair from my face, a note sticking to my arm hitting me in the cheek. I pull the blue post-it note from my arm and look it over.

Be back – Sex God

“Sex God?” I laugh.

I stretch my arms and gaze around the room, finding my clothes slung all over the floor and the lamp knocked over. It got pretty wild last night. I walk to the bedroom and find some gym shorts and a white tank top, and put them on. I don’t want Addie to come in and see me naked. That would be an awkward conversation.

I am tying up my hair into a ponytail and the front door opens. Bobby walks in with a bag in his hand and a cup holder in the other with a couple of cups.

“Just for you,” he remarks, handing me a cup. I smile and take it, the sides of it warm against my palm. I hold it to my nose and inhale.

“Mmm. Coffee,” I respond, grateful.

Bobby smiles, revealing two sexy dimples in his cheeks and sets the bag down on the counter. He digs in his pocket and pulls his cell phone out that’s vibrating.

“Shit, I need to get to the club,” he whispers, stuffing it back in his pocket. He peers up under his thick lashes, and braces himself against the counter with both hands gripping the sides.

“Where’s the evidence?” he asks gravely. My mouth suddenly dries and my throat constricts at his question.

“Why?” I ask, turning to dig into the bag of food.

“So I can get rid of it, babe,” he responds, his tone as if I should know that.

“You are not taking it to the club, Bobby,” I smart. “I don’t want them to know anything about what I did,” I clip, pulling out a breakfast sandwich. Bobby scoffs, and walks around the counter, crossing his arms, scowling at me.

“And why is that exactly?” he asks, clearly offended.

Turning to face him, I sigh. His blond hair is still a mess from last night, and his clothes are wrinkled from lying inside out on the floor. He still looks sexy though, even with a disproving look written on his face. The club has had a few instances where people have come in claiming to be a part of the MC, only to find out they were enemies of the club, causing a shit storm in their wake, and lives to be taken in the process. I can’t take the chance there’s still a rat in the pack who hasn’t been weeded out.

“Truth?” I ask, running my tongue along my bottom lip nervously.

“Please,” he mutters.

“Your club has a bad track record. How many people have come in and said they were loyal and turned out not to be who you thought they were? The last thing I need is word getting out I offed the biggest drug lord in California,” I explain, my tone serious. Bobby nods his head in understanding, his hand rubbing the stubble on his chin, making a scratchy noise against his palm.

“I understand that so I won’t say anything to the club,” he replies, surprising me. “Unless it needs to be brought to light,” he continues hesitantly, causing me to groan in response.

“All right,” I mutter. I know going against his club would make him one of those people who betray the brotherhood, so asking him not to say anything unless he has to will have to do.

“So where is the evidence?” he asks, shrugging.

“It’s in my pocket,” I reply, pointing to my pants sitting by the door.

Bobby walks over to my wrinkled pants, carefully sliding his hands into the pocket, pulling the capped syringe out.

“I’ll make sure no one finds this,” he mutters, sticking it into his pocket.

He looks down and sees my scrub bottoms with my pink underwear tangled in between them. Looking at me, he grins. He reaches down, grabs my panties, and sticks them in his jeans pocket.

“Drop them, buddy. Those are my expensive panties.” I point my finger at him. He smiles and stands up, ignoring me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for that date,” he adds, giving me a wink before opening the door, locking it, and leaving.

My eyes widen and my heart sinks. Shit, I forgot about the date.

I sigh heavily and sit down on the stool, sipping my coffee, my mind running wild with what has happened in the last twenty-four hours.