Throttled (Wild Riders #1)(28)
“I... I don’t...” I tried to think of something witty. Something that wouldn’t make me look like a complete basket case.
“Leave her alone,” Reid said, coming down the stairs. In just a pair of gray sweatpants and still toweling off the water from his hair and body. He was the personified wet dream. The ink that I’d seen on his arms apparently continued to his back and down one side. Something was scrawled down his right rib cage, but I couldn’t make it out from where I was standing. I felt myself trying, squinting even, to read the words Reid wanted permanently on his body. In hopes of avoiding being caught, I let my eyes nervously dart around the room. “Why are you even in here?” he shot a scowl at Brett.
“It’s lonely out there in the Airstream,” he said, giving Reid a fake pout.
“You’re an idiot,” Reid replied. I tried not to laugh at his astute observation, but a soft noise escaped my lips. Reid turned to me and smiled. I ignored the fluttering in my stomach.
“Are we playing or not?” Hoyt said, obviously trying to distract Brett from interjecting himself into the conversation any more than he had. The two of them turned their attention to the television where a video game suddenly un-paused. Dirt bikes roared across the screen as Brett yelled at Hoyt for not waiting for him to grab his controller. These guys were literally all dirt bikes all the time. It was a fact that I was acutely aware of. Motocross guys would always choose bikes over everything else.
“What’s up, Shutterbug?” he asked quietly as he approached me. The lettering on his side became legible the closer he came and I could see a list of women’s names: Caroline, Layla, Roxanne, etc...I stopped at Valerie, unable to read anymore. Apparently just what I needed to see… his list of past conquests to remind me that even if a part of me wanted to forgive him and give our relationship another chance, seven years had passed. Seven years of him sleeping with God knows who. Seven years of him not contacting me. Seven years during which I’d built a new life for myself.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course,” he answered. He walked over to a duffel bag sitting on the small kitchen table by the front door and pulled out a black t-shirt. “Outside?” he asked as he pulled it over his head, the word THROTTLED scribbled across the front. His shirt seemed to understand what I was feeling.
I nodded. After he slipped on his tennis shoes, I followed him out on to the front porch. As soon as the door was closed behind us, he turned and placed his hands on my hips.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he informed me. I’d figured as much, and even though the same were true for me, I wasn’t here to kiss and make up.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I said, pushing his hands away. “It’s not fair. I’m with Beau.”
“Why do you have to keep bringing up his name?” He growled and reached out for me again.
“Whether you like it or not, he is my boyfriend, Reid,” I said as I took a solitary step away from him.
“Doesn’t have to be,” he replied. “You know what we have is more than whatever it is that is keeping you with him.” He grinned. “Don’t you want to see if it still burns as hot as it once did?” He reached out and twirled a piece of my hair around his fingers. “Remember how good I used to make you feel?” The playful tug on my hair as he closed the distance between us once again lit the fire in the pit of my stomach. His words and actions kept reminding me exactly how good he used to make me feel, but I couldn’t base my future on lust.
“That was years ago,” I said, shrugging off his advance. He released my hair. “We were kids. I got off rubbing up against your leg. You’re mistaking teenage hormones for passion. Things are different now.”
“Is that a challenge?” he smirked. “Hormones or not, I can guarantee you that no one has ever made you feel the way I do. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Reid,” I said, unable to tell him that he was. Which infuriated me even more. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll back off, but only because I know that I’m right.” He took seat on an old glider, red paint chipped and the metal rusted from the weather and neglect. His eyes motioned for me to sit next to him, but I decided leaning against the rail that ran the length of the porch was a better idea. Distance was my friend.
“That can’t be a good sign,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees. “I might need a drink for this.” I handed him the bottle from my hand, he finished it off and sat it on the ground. “Okay... lay it on me. Tell me you love Beau and that I can go to hell,” he said as he leaned back and stretched his arms across the back of the glider.
“It’s not like that,” I started to explain.
“So you don’t love him.” He grinned. “I knew it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Would you please just let me talk? It took a lot for me to come out here tonight and I’m really trying to not throw up right now.”
“Throw up?” he asked. “Jesus, Nore,” he said, standing and placing his hands on my shoulders and rubbing them up and down the length of my arm. “I’m not trying to make you physically sick. I’m sorry if I’m pressuring you too much, I just... f*ck,” he breathed. “All I wanted was for you to see that I still care about you.”