He’s beautiful.
I gasp, holding my breath as I hurry to turn on the light to see if it’s really him. I stretch and pull the string of the lamp. With a click, the bulb flashes on, and I smile to myself when I realize I’m finally going to get to see him.
Forgetting that he’s in my house watching me without being allowed in. Semantics. We can work those issues out later.
“I’ve been thinking about you so much—” But when I turn around to talk to him, he’s gone. “Lately,” I finish my thought. I slide my arms through the string of the nightgown and tug the hem to my knees, then frantically straighten my hair and tuck it behind my ears. “Hello?” I call out to my dark apartment, but all I hear is the echo of my voice.
There is no way I imagined all of that, is there? I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, forgetting the vibrator between my legs. It falls on the floor, leaving me empty and feeling a bit awkward when it thuds loudly, shining wet against the hardwood.
“Thank God I live alone so no one can witness this,” I mumble, grabbing a tissue from the purple container and then pick up the vibrator off the floor and carry it to the bathroom. I’ll clean it later. I swear, he was here. I’m not losing my damn mind.
I take the robe from the hook on the back of the door and wrap it around my shoulders, gliding my arms through the holes before securing it around my waist. “Are you still here?” I call out, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights from the windows in the living room. I step around the stacks of books and flip the lights on, but I’m alone. There isn’t anyone here.
And I have no idea why that upsets me so much.
Maybe I am losing it.
With a sigh, I make my way toward the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea when I notice something off about the room. I study every stack of books, trying to figure out what looks different, but I can’t put my finger on it.
The takeout containers are gone.
I rush to the corner of the table and rub the empty spot with my bare hand. “There was a book here,” I say to myself, knowing that I’m not losing it because I was creating a new stack. My apartment isn’t big enough for all the books I have, so I have to use all the space. I tap the secondhand wood with fingers and grin. “There was a book here.” I squeal. “I knew I wasn’t crazy. He was here! He was here. The man from the bookstore was here. He took my book. Why?” I ask, thoughts drilling my mind a million miles an hour.
And why did he clean my kitchen?
I check the fridge for a note, for something to tell me that it was him who came to see me, but there is nothing. All I have are tingles from my orgasm, a possible flash of his face, and a missing book.
Disappointment crashes through me. What if this is all we will have? What if we don’t even have this and I’m imagining it? What if he listens to Reaper, or if I listen to Reaper, and we never get to know each other because of the rules stamped on us?
“I need to go to bed. I’m obviously losing my mind.” I press my hand against my forehead and forgo the tea. Opening the white cabinet, I reach for another bottle but find my wine gone. “What the fuck?” I curse. “Okay, I know for a damn fact I had another bottle in here.” It’s gone. I slam the cabinet door and reach into the Lazy Susan to grab the whiskey instead. I hate whiskey, but I use it for emergencies, and this seems like an emergency because I’m fucking losing it.
The seal breaks as I twist off the cap. The burning scent has my eyes watering, and I’ll bet my nose hair is singed because holy moly that is strong. I take a swig and immediately spit it out, spewing it all over the books across the table. “Oh my god, who drinks this stuff?” It’s literally burning a hole in my stomach.
Note to self: stick to wine.
I weave my way through the books on the floor and take another swig when I remember I’m alone. I’m always alone. Lonely Daphne in the big sin city all by her little self. It’s what my dad said when I left home, but not in reassurance. He doesn’t think I can make it out here, but he is wrong. Aunt Tina lives around the corner, and while she’s MIA half the time, she loves me and means well.
And that’s more than I have ever had from my father.
I check the lock on the door to make sure that I stay alone for the remainder of the night.
Another thought hits me while I take another awful swig of whiskey, a thought I haven’t considered until this moment.
What if it wasn’t Tongue in my apartment?
“Where the fuck have you been, Tongue?” Reaper asks as soon as I walk through the front door. I’m holding a bottle of wine I stole from Daphne’s apartment and a book in the other hand.
I had the best night of my life. What I shared with Daphne, I’ve never had with anyone else before. I don’t want Reaper to ruin it for me, but it’s Reaper. He’s our Prez. I have to listen to him, but I have a feeling if he says anything to me about Daphne, listening is the last thing I will do.
“I was out,” I state, simply, eyeing the guys who are sitting around on the couch at nine in the morning. I might have left Daphne’s apartment, but I stayed outside until she went to work. I hate that I have to take my eyes off her for one minute, but the club is my family. They are my home.
“You were … out?” Reaper asks, nearly red in the face. “Out? Are you fucking kidding me? After what happened on Halloween, I really thought you would be more responsible, Tongue. We need to stay together right now. We need you here at home. Skirt needs his home rebuilt. The walls are going up around the compound. I can’t have you doing whatever the fuck you want, when you want because you fucking feel like it right now.” His eyes drop to the book in my hand and the wine bottle in the other. “The bookstore girl, that’s who you’ve been with?”
I forgot he knows about her now. I saw him at the coffee stand while I watched her from the alley. I was hoping she’d be my secret for a little while, but Reaper always figures everything out. “No.” It isn’t a lie. Technically, she had no idea I was there, so she can’t say she was with me.
“So you stopped at the store and grabbed a book and a bottle of wine?”
“What’s the harm in that?” I say. I remember the times when I could barely say a word without stumbling over myself. I’ve learned how to speak without sounding like a complete fool since my tongue has healed.
“You’re not to leave the compound until further notice. Do I make myself clear?”
Like I give a flying fuck what he has to say. Nothing is going to keep me away from Daphne.
“We have more important things going on than you chasing some ass.”
“I don’t chase ass,” I say darkly, itching to grab my knife. I crack my neck, twisting it right and left until it pops. “You know damn well that’s not what I do.”
“I know, but you being around that sweet, innocent girl will bring her nothing but pain, and you know it. Stay away from her. If you want what is best for her, leave her alone.”
What feels like a sharp knife pierces my heart, then twists. I can’t leave her alone. Now that I finally have her, she always needs to be by my side. A baby cries in the kitchen, and Skirt gets up from the couch and gives me a nod, exiting the room silently to go care for his newborn daughter, Joanna, named after Doc’s ol’ lady who tried to run into a burning building to save him. They nicknamed their daughter Joey, so it’s less confusing.