Taming the Storm (The Storm #3)(31)
Author: Samantha Towle

His words pierce my chest like a knife. I shrink back.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted her.” Jesus, those words hurt. “I thought I was helping. I just…well, it seemed like you didn’t want women all over you, considering what happened with Shannon on the first day, and I bet Sonny—”

Shit.

Those jades of his narrow to slits. “You bet Sonny what?”

I swallow down. “Nothing. I bet nothing.”

I turn to leave, more than ready to chickenshit my way out of this and hightail it back to the bus, but Tom catches my upper arm, pulling me back to him.

“Finish the rest of that sentence.”

“Fine.” I blow out a breath, removing my arm from his hand.

I push my hair back off my face and lift my chin. “Sonny was giving me a hard time, saying that you were going to sleep with that blonde and I’d have to give up my bed so that you could use it to do…whatever with her.” I wave my hand, trying not to choke on the words.

“So, I bet Sonny that you wouldn’t have sex with her because I actually thought you, um…wouldn’t.”

He lifts a brow, which does nothing for my confidence.

“Well, it was just…from things you’ve said to me and the whole Shannon thing and, um…just the way you’ve been in general…so, yeah.” I straighten my back and look him in the eye. “And because of those things, I thought my money was safe…but then you started looking like you were actually going to do something with her and, um”—the words are sticking in my throat—“I, um…didn’t want to lose the bet.” I look away.

Liar.

I didn’t want you to have sex with her because the thought of it makes me feel sick.

Blinking, I look up at him.

The look on his face. He’s pissed off, sure, but he looks…hurt.

I can see it there in the depths of his eyes.

And I feel like the bitch I am.

It’s too hard to look at him and say what I’m about to say, so I stare over his shoulder to the glowing lights of the bar behind him. “Look it was a real shitty thing to do…and I’m sorry, all right?”

His face is blank, but his eyes are saying a hell of a lot right now. None of it is good.

“How much?” His tone is brittle.

“What?” I look at him.

His eyes cut to mine. “How much fucking money did you bet Sonny?”

I swallow what feels like gravel. “Does it matter?”

“How. Much?”

“A hundred dollars.” I’m trembling on the inside.

Tom’s eyes widen, and he lets out an incredulous laugh. “A hundred dollars. That’s all I’m worth?” He thrusts his hands through his hair before linking them behind his neck. “Jesus Christ!” His gaze rips through me. “Nice, Lyla. Real fucking nice.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry.” I frown.

He drops his arms and folds them over his chest. “Did Sonny pay up?”

I know I’m stepping into something I really don’t want, but I have no other choice. “Yes.”

In one swift move, he pulls off his beer-soaked T-shirt, exposing that smooth expanse of total awesomeness. He shoves the shirt in the back pocket of his jeans, and then he’s moving. In a few steps, he’s on me, right up close. His chest is in my face. He’s everywhere, consuming me. I can’t breathe. I have to practically nail my feet to the ground to keep me from moving.

I tilt my head back to look up at him just as he leans down into my face.

He smells of beer. But mostly Tom. Everything that makes my toes curl.

“Okay, this is how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna go back to that bar. You’re gonna hand Sonny two hundred dollars—his own hundred back and the hundred for the bet you lost.”

My brows draw together. “I didn’t lose—”

“No, but you’re going to in about five minutes. Lucky for me, the blonde wasn’t put off by your little show in there. She’s coming here, and I’m taking her up onto the bus and into your bedroom where I’m gonna spend all night fucking her brains out while you sit outside, one hundred dollars lighter, listening to the kind of sex a frigid bitch like you could only dream of having.”

If he’d shot me, I don’t think it would have hurt as much.

Tears sting my eyes. “Fuck you!” I yell, shoving him away. I turn and start to run toward the bus.

I just want to get away from him and to rid myself of this goddamn pain in my chest.

I almost make it to the bus, but Tom catches me and shoves me hard up against the side of the bus. My breath leaves me in a whoosh.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He presses his body onto mine.

My body starts to tremble.

“Me to fuck you. You were jealous, Firecracker. Admit it. That’s why you pulled your little stunt back there.”

I let out a laugh, but it sounds hollow, even to my own ears. “Jealous? You wish! I wouldn’t want you if you were the last man on Earth!” I’m saying this, but it’s clearly not true.

And he knows it.

If he can’t tell from the trembling of my body or my quick breaths or the fact that my eyes are glued to his lips, then all he would need to do is put his hand on my panties, and the damp evidence would be there for his confirmation.

“Yeah, well, the feeling is one hundred fucking percent mutual, sweetheart.”

He’s saying this, but I can tell from his quick breaths, the dilation of his pupils, and the fact that he’s dragging his teeth over his lower lip that he’s lying. And even if there weren’t all those signs, then his huge erection, which is currently pressed into my belly, would have told me all I needed to know.

“I think you’re a disgusting man slut,” I hiss, smoothing my hand up his bare chest.

His body shudders under my touch.

God, he feels so damn good.

Tom’s hand runs up my arm, skimming the edge of my breast. His fingers slide into my hair, and he pulls it down, tilting my face up to his. “And like I said, I think you’re a frigid bitch.”

I glare into his eyes. “I fucking hate you,” I seethe. But my voice sounds really breathless. Sexy breathless. I don’t sound like me at all.

He moves his mouth closer to mine. “Yeah, and that feeling is more than mutual.”

We’re locked together. Chests heaving. Neurons of sexual chemistry firing between us like bullets.