Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(18)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“I—” I began.

“What were you doin’ at Club, Ally?”

“I was—”

“And what the f**k were you doin’ in a bar that Valenzuela works with Darius f**kin’ Tucker?”

I felt my back snap straight. “Darius is a friend.”

“Darius was a friend, he wouldn’t be sittin’ with you in that bar havin’ a chat. He’d be haulin’ your ass out of that bar and laying into it to get your head sorted for bein’ in that bar in the first f**kin’ place.”

Oh no.

He didn’t say that.

“What the f**k are you into?” he bit out.

“None of your business,” I snapped.

“Right.” He leaned back. “Was gonna have this discussion with you when I wasn’t pissed at you, but it needs to be said, and now’s a f**kin’ brilliant time to say it,” he started in a way that I didn’t find very promising.

Then he kept going.

“I’m thinkin’ the nature of our relationship is movin’ beyond casual. I’m thinkin’ it’s gettin’ into the non-casual zone, seein’ as we spend practically every night together, even if you roll into my house at three thirty in the morning after a shift at Brother’s. This suggests to me that we can’t get enough of each other, and since you haul your ass to my place most of the time, you can’t deny that.”

This was true. I couldn’t deny it.

He wasn’t done.

“So I’m thinkin’ we’re in the zone where we actually go out and eat a meal and get to know each other better. Not wolfing down breakfast, you go your way and I go mine. Or I make you spaghetti because you’ve been behind a bar all night and haven’t eaten, then the minute you’re done, we f**k each other’s brains out. So, to end, if we’re not casual, it is my business.”

“I’m not feeling the love for not casual right about now, Zano,” I shared.

He lifted a hand, palm out my way, and shook his head.

“Sorry, my mistake,” he began and dropped his hand. “That came out like you had a choice. Which you don’t. Tomorrow, you’re in a nice dress. My pick is the one you wore to Club, unless you’ve got another one that makes my dick harder faster, which, babe, just sayin’, will be a feat. Then I’m takin’ you out to a nice dinner, and you’re gonna share with me all your hopes and dreams. But right now you’re gonna tell me what the f**k you’re into.”

Although one could not say I didn’t like that he liked my dress—and why—I still crossed my arms on my chest and declared, “We’re not going out on a date.”

“You wanna get laid tonight?” he asked, and I felt my brows shoot up.

“Are you using sex as a way to get me to go out with you?” I clipped.

Suddenly he threw his arms out in exasperation.

“Jesus!” he exploded. “Ally, usually a guy’s gotta take a girl out as a way to get sex.”

“I told you, I’m not like other girls.”

“Well, you’ve proved that statement correct a dozen f**kin’ times since it came out of your mouth.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You over that guy?” he asked back instead of answering and my head twitched.

“What guy?”

Ren’s chin jerked back, and his heavy angry vibe that was weighing in the air became stifling.

“What guy?” he whispered.

Uh-oh.

He was referring to Carl, probably because I used Carl as an excuse to keep our relationship casual. And since he wished to discuss us going out of the casual, he would naturally bring up Carl.

Shit.

“I, uh, I’m still working through that,” I replied lamely.

“A second ago, you didn’t even remember he existed,” Ren fired back.

Damn it!

I threw out an arm and went on the defense. “I’m kind of not on my game, what with the late night grilling.”

“I had my mouth between your legs, you’d be focused,” he returned, and there it was.

I’d had many briefings about Asshole Speak, and that was proof Ren could equal even Luke.

“That’s not cool,” I whispered.

“But it’s true.”

It was true, damn it all to hell, so I decided not to reply.

“Was there even a guy?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered snippily. “His name is Carl and he’s currently undertaking FBI training in Virginia and likely won’t be stationed in Denver when they’re done with him. So, since I don’t intend to live anywhere but Denver, I had to make the decision to be done with him.”

Some of his anger slid out of the room and his voice was less terse (though not gentle by a long shot) when he pointed out, “Do you know that that’s the most personal thing you’ve shared with me since beer at Brother’s?”

“Fuck buddies don’t share their hopes and dreams, Zano. They f**k,” I educated him.

It was his turn to clamp his mouth shut.

He did it better than me, and this was because a muscle jumped in his jaw which I found, unfortunately at that moment, all kinds of hot.

Crap.

I let him have his moment and didn’t fill the silence.

He got over his moment and his voice was even less terse (but still not gentle) when he told me, “I’m pissed, and I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you out there, which means I’m pissed because I’m worried. But that doesn’t negate the fact that I like what we got and I want more.”

Oh God.

He wanted more.

And he was worried about me.

Fuck.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he quickly closed the short distance between us, wrapped a hand around the side of my neck and dipped his face close so I closed my mouth.

“You’re pissed too,” he told me something I knew, but this time his voice was not terse at all. It was gentle and sweet. “So don’t answer now. Not when we’re both pissed. Give it some time and think about it. And think about sharin’ with me whatever you’re up to. You got some mission with one of your posse, I might be able to help. It’s somethin’ you and Tucker gotta keep close to your vests, I get it. But think about sharing, honey. If I can help, I will.”

Okay, how did this happen? How was it that one minute we were having not very nice words and the next minute he was not only gentle and sweet, but also nice.