Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(41)

He laughs, and the sound sends ice through my veins. “I don’t compromise, and I sure as hell don’t do relationships.” He makes the word sound obscene. “You’re a good f*ck, Grace, but that’s all.”

It’s as though he physically punches me in the stomach, and it takes everything I have not to double over. A good f*ck? That’s it?

There’s the faintest hint of a smile on his face as if he finds this situation amusing, but his eyes are cold. He’s not the guy I spent the last month with, who made me laugh and question my life and gave me the best sex I’ve ever had.

He’s just some guy who took what I offered, and everything I imagined about him having a vulnerable side was just garbage.

I reach across the floor for my bra and put it on without looking at him. My panties and dress are just out of reach, so there’s nothing for it but to stand up and move. I know he’s watching me and I want to sink through the floor, but the sooner I’m dressed the sooner I can get out of here.

Talk about a walk of shame.

My baking things are piled up in the sink, but I’m not sure my pride could hold out for the time it’d take to gather them up, and I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down in front of him.

At the door, I can’t help myself, and glance back at him. He hasn’t moved, but his gaze is fixed on me. My head’s telling me to play it cool as though I’m fine, but I’m not. My entire body hurts as though I’ve got the flu and I desperately want to say you don’t mean that but I’d cut out my tongue before letting him know how much he’s devastated me.

“I was so wrong about you. You really are the biggest jerk I’ve ever met.”

…

Zach

I sit on the cold, hard floor, and it’s not until I hear Grace go downstairs and the front door finally shut that my rigid muscles relax.

She’s gone. I grab my jeans and yank them on before pulling on my T-shirt and cut. I should’ve finished this weeks ago instead of holding on to something that was never real and never could be.

Did I really think she’d want to stay with me this week? Of course she chose her family. She’d always choose her family, and I’m a f*cking dipshit for thinking there might’ve been a chance for us to have something more than sex.

Jesus. I shove my fingers through my hair and grip my scalp, but it doesn’t help with the brain-killing headache. It was always only about the sex. That’s all I ever have with chicks.

I catch sight of the cupcakes on the counter and a red rage fills me. They’re a reminder of everything I’ll never have again, and with a violent curse I swipe everything onto the floor. The smell of pumpkin and cake and Grace’s perfume fills my head, and I stamp out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind me.

…

A few hours later Kat comes into the garage, arms folded. “Where’s Grace?”

I don’t bother looking at her. “Gone.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Finally, I slam my wrench on the workbench and turn to glare at her. “What?” I growl.

Her eyes narrow. “The kitchen’s a mess.”

I don’t f*cking care. “I’ll clear it up later.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” When I see Kat frown, I realize my mistake. “Nothing to talk about. She was just a hookup.” Yeah, right. How long do I have to keep telling myself that before I start to believe it?

“Right.” Disbelief drips from the word, but she doesn’t push it. When she leaves I grip the edge of the workbench and the metal digs into my palms, but it doesn’t touch the dull ache deep inside my chest.

…

My hangover the following morning is f*cking epic. Despite the backlog of work, I give up on it late in the afternoon and ride to the club. Ty and a couple of brothers are sprawled on the sofas watching porn on the seventy-two-inch screen. The blonde in the movie with her huge fake tits and pouting lips does nothing for me, so I grab a beer and sit next to Ty, who’s getting a blow job from a black-haired chick who hangs around the club sometimes.

I pretend to focus on the movie and try to ignore Ty. All I can think about is the way Grace goes down on me, with her long red hair tumbling down her back, looking like a sex goddess. My dick stirs and I close my eyes, but it doesn’t help with either the vision or the headache.

What the hell’s wrong with me? She was just a piece of *. She’s gone, and it’s time to move on. So why, when I dumped all of her ruined cakes into the garbage last night, did I pick out every single cake topper, dust them off, and drop them onto my nightstand?

Ty finishes, pushes the chick back, and shoves his dick into his pants. “Do Zach, sweets,” he tells the girl, and she shuffles toward me on her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She fumbles with my zip, and the thought of her wrapping her lips around me turns my stomach.

I move her hand away and she glances up, clearly shocked. I manage to dredge up a faint smile. “I’m good.”

“Go,” Ty says, and she stumbles to her feet, obviously half stoned or drunk, and Hawk, another brother, catches her before she topples over the coffee table scattered with discarded bottles.

Ty picks up his beer and focuses on the screen. “Is it over?”

Kat and her big mouth. She tells Savannah everything, and Sav obviously blabs to her brother. I’ve never been the subject of their gossip before, and I don’t like it.