Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(57)

Stupid f*cking lockdown. Stupid motherf*cking lockdown. Not only was I trapped here but I was trapped here without my own clothing, forced to wear Kami’s, the only other woman here who was as thin as I was. The skinny jeans weren’t so bad, despite them being tighter than I liked, but the nearly sheer camisole, a silly and shimmering purple, was repulsive. I was literally counting down the minutes until the washing machine was freed up and I could put my own clothing back on.

And it was only Monday. I had two more days to endure. Maybe longer if whatever Deuce had going down on Wednesday didn’t go according to plan.

To make matters worse, my mother refused to leave Deuce and Eva’s room and Jase was practically camped out in the hall, hoping that she’d eventually come out. Hawk, thankfully, was keeping his distance, staying quiet and keeping Christopher busy. I had to give him credit for that; my poor mother wouldn’t stand an emotional chance if both of them came at her at once.

Speaking of emotional chances, I was still trying to figure out how to bring up the matter of her memory without upsetting her further.

As usual, the Hell’s Horsemen Montana Chapter was one big fat hot mess.

“I don’t give a f*ck,” Cage growled, slapping my hands down as he used his body to push me backward. My back hit the bar counter and Cage’s arms came down around me, locking me in place.

“I’m hungry,” he said, his voice low as his face dipped into the crook of my neck.

“I’m not a kitchen,” I hissed, even as my eyelids fluttered from whatever his tongue was doing behind my ear.

“No?” he asked, laughing softly as his teeth grazed my neck. “So, all that * I been eatin’? That wasn’t you grindin’ my face like you were diggin’ for gold?”

Loud laughter erupted to my left and my cheeks heated with mortification. Cage, however, was completely oblivious or just didn’t care one way or the other.

“Please, Cage,” I begged, shoving at him again. “Please, not in front of everyone.”

Cage lifted his head and pulled himself to his full height, towering over me. “I want ’em all to know,” he whispered. “That you ain’t with Z. That you’re f*ckin’ mine.”

Mine. His.

God, he was killing me. Slowly. I was a mere bystander to my own death, unable to move, only able to watch all the time knowing exactly what was coming.

“Gimme those lips, Teacup,” he whispered, bowing his head, pressing his mouth to mine. His tongue slid past my lips, his hand came up, and his fingers slid through my hair. Before I knew what I was doing, I was up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal eagerness, forgetting where we were, forgetting that we were far from alone.

Out of all the men I’d been with, not one of my sexual experiences had been quite like this. Where I just couldn’t seem to stop myself, to say no—no matter what Cage was demanding of me, I still wanted more and more and more.

It was so good. So sexually satisfying and yet I still couldn’t keep my shit together around him. I had to have more.

His right hand slid up my back, under my borrowed shirt, and up my side, landing on my breast. My eyes went wide. Enough was enough.

“Stop it!” I yelled, shoving at him with all my strength, managing to at least dislodge his grip on my breast.

Shaking with laughter, Cage raised both his hands in the air, palms forward. “Calm down,” he said.

“Yeah, Tegen, calm the f*ck down. It ain’t like we all ain’t seen Cage with his pants around his ankles a million f*ckin’ times before.”

I turned to Anger, whose evil smirk only worsened as I glared at him.

“What?” he asked, shrugging. “You ain’t the first bitch he’d be havin’ on top of that bar. Ain’t the second, third, tenth, or forty-fifth either.”

My glare swung toward Cage.

No longer laughing, Cage let out an irritated growl. “Thanks a lot, f*cker,” he shot in Anger’s direction. “It’s gonna take a f*ckin’ crowbar to pry those legs back open now.”

My jaw dropped.

“What the f*ck!” I shrieked. “What is wrong with you?”

Shoving past him, I ran from the room, hurt and humiliated. Again. God, he just kept doing it. And I kept letting him. Pissing me off, soothing the hurt with a few words, pissing me off again, embarrassing me, and then kissing away the sting.

Why was I such a dumbass when it came to him?

When I’d finally been able to sit down and think about everything that had happened, all in such a short period of time, all of it felt so off. Like this wasn’t my reality but instead a fling during a summer vacation, something I couldn’t take home with me, something that would leave me with only memories.

What was going to happen come Wednesday? Would Cage come to see me in San Francisco? Would I start making regular visits home again? A weekend here and there? Holidays? Would I stay with Cage instead of my mother from now on?

And what were we exactly? He’d said he wanted me on the back of his bike, that I was “his,” but had never elaborated.

As it was, any time I tried to bring this up with Cage, he wasn’t even trying to listen to me, just groping, kissing, and f*cking me incessantly.

“Tegen!”

I stopped midrun and took a deep breath, not really sure what to expect, before turning around to face Danny.