NINETEEN
WE end up at Toxic. Don’t ask me how it came about, because I don’t know.
“Your boobs are really huge,” Faye was telling one of the strippers. “Like, massive.”
“They’re natural,” the dancer beams.
“I’m pretty sure you could lick your own nipples,” Faye says, nodding her head. “I always wondered if other women could lick their own boobs.”
Safe to say, Faye is drunk.
And hilarious.
Arrow, who’s been watching Faye throughout her conversation with the stripper, plucks the drink from her hand. “Think you’ve had enough.”
Faye huffs. “I hardly ever go out, let me live a little, would you?”
She tries to reclaim her drink.
“Should we take her home?” I ask Tracker quietly, who slides me farther up his lap so I’m sitting on his groin.
“She’s okay, let her be. No harm in talking to strippers about their tits,” he says into my ear.
I look around the strip club. “Have you slept with any of these women?”
“No,” he says, nibbling on my earlobe. “Fucked a few. We did no sleeping.”
I slap his arm. “You’re such an asshole.”
I scan the club, wondering which women he’s been with, jealousy seeping through my pores.
“Baby,” he whispers, turning my face back to him. “I’m sorry you have to see women I’ve fucked, but that’s all they were to me. I’ve never felt what I’ve got with you before. You need to put the past behind us, all right?”
“All right,” I grumble. Can I really trust him? I can’t deny the doubt I feel at the back of my mind. Men don’t stick around. He’ll move on when he’s done with me, and I’ll be left to pick up the pieces.
“You wanted to come here, remember?” he says. “Try something new. I’m happy to experience new things with you like this, but at the end of the day it’s you and me.”
I lay my head on his chest, pushing away all other thoughts. “You can be so sweet sometimes.”
“Only for you.”
“Good. I like it that way.”
“No, Faye, you can’t get onstage,” I hear Anna growl. “Unless you want us all dead.”
“Next time Sin is coming out,” Arrow says, shaking his head in amusement. “Faye is too much work.”
“What did Talon want?”
Tracker gives me a quick kiss. “Apparently there’s a new MC in the area, starting shit. Wanted to talk to us about it.”
My eyes widen. I didn’t actually expect him to answer. “Did you just give me a little bit of club information? I think I’m going to die of shock.”
“Smart-ass,” he teases. “I’ll tell you what I can tell you, no more no less.”
“I can deal with that.”
He kisses me again, this one deeper, hungrier. Suddenly he stands with me still in his arms, and takes me through a door to an office.
“Here?” I ask, glancing around the room.
“Here,” he growls. “Pull those jeans down and bend over the table.”
* * *
I call Tracker, excitement racing through me. “I found a place!”
“Where is it?” he says. “Close to the clubhouse?”
“About ten minutes away,” I say. “The rent is a good price and it’s stunning.”
“Want me to come have a look?”
“Would you mind?” I say, clutching the phone.
“Not at all,” he says. “Text me the address, I’ll be there in five.”
We hang up.
“I said ten minutes, and he says he’ll be here in five,” I mutter to myself as I text him the address.
He arrives on his bike, like he said, in five minutes. We both take a look around, as I talk him through every room.
“I don’t like it,” he announces, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Wh-what? What do you mean you don’t like it? It’s perfect,” I argue, my head snapping to him.
He glances around. “No it’s not. You can find something better.”
“Tracker . . .”
“I don’t see why you don’t move in with me,” he says, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You practically live there anyway.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?” I ask, wringing my hands together.
“No, no I fuckin’ don’t,” he says, a stubborn, determined look taking over his expression. “I don’t like the thought of you here alone. At least at your mom’s, she’s there some of the time. Here you’re all by yourself, while I’m ten minutes away. It makes no sense. If you’re here, I’m just gonna come here anyway, so we might as well just live together.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I say ’bye to the real estate agent, telling her I’ll be in touch. Tracker doesn’t take us back to the clubhouse. Instead, he takes us to the beach.
“Why are we here?” I ask.
“Just wanted to spend some quiet time with you,” he says, sitting down on the sand, and pulling me to sit between his legs. The fresh breeze is nice. With my head against his warm chest, we sit there watching the sun go down.
“This is kind of romantic,” I tell Tracker.
He nuzzles my neck, kissing behind my ear. “I can be romantic.”