|Home > Chelle Bliss > Men of Inked > Resist Me (Page 43)|
|Resist Me(Men of Inked #5) by Chelle Bliss|
“Yeah,” she replied, her body flattening against the mattress.
I knew she was scared, but I was too pissed off to try and calm her fears. I bit back like a wounded animal.
I climbed off the bed, grabbing my jeans off the floor and sliding them on. “We’re not done, Izzy. I won’t stick around for us to say things we’ll regret. Shit we can’t take back.”
“The only thing I regret is spending the weekend with you.”
“You’re a f**king liar!” I roared, so pissed off I could barely see straight.
“Think what you want, but you’re not my type.”
“You just want a pu**y you can boss around. I have a dick, babe. One you seemed to love this weekend. You get your head on f**king straight and give me a call when you’re ready.”
“Not happening, James,” she replied as she turned to face me.
I’d already raised my voice, but I couldn’t f**king help it. The woman was maddening. “I’m exactly what you need and want. You’re too f**king scared to admit it.”
She shook her head as she crawled out of bed and started to dress. “You’re not all that.”
“When you grow the f**k up, call me,” I said as I stalked toward her.
“You’re a total dick,” she hissed, moving to slap me.
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to my body. Gripping her hair in my fist, I gave it a slight tug as I hovered over her lips. She gasped, holding my shoulders.
“You know you want me,” I growled, my lips a breath away from hers. “I wrecked you for any other man. I own your ass, Izzy. I’ll let you run, but you can’t resist me forever.”
I crushed my lips against her, holding her by the hair. She moaned into my mouth as her body betrayed her every word. Backing away, I released her and left her standing in her room half naked and speechless.
The ride back to Leesburg gave me plenty of time to think of my next move. I’d give her space—for a little while—before I came crashing back into her life. We had that spark, that something special that couldn’t be denied. Come hell or high water, Izzy Gallo would admit that she wanted to be with me.
“Who pissed in your damn Cheerios?” Bobby teased as I walked in the office on Wednesday morning.
Bobby was my regional supervisor, but I often told him to go f**k himself. We had one of those relationships. He didn’t hold back when pointing out the obvious.
“No one. Just a shitty-ass week,” I snapped, throwing my bag on the floor and collapsing in my chair.
“Ah. Pussy problems.” He laughed, kicking his feet up on the desk.
“Shut the f**k up,” I snarled through gritted teeth.
“You better sort that shit out and get your head in the game,” he said, riffling through a file. “There’s movement on the coast within a rival MC. We need to keep an eye on Thomas and make sure he’s safe.”
“I got his back,” I grunted, pulling myself toward the desk.
“Not when you have pu**y on your mind.”
“I got this shit, Bobby.”
He stood and walked toward my desk. Leaning over, he placed his fists against the surface. “Sort your shit out. Got me?”
“Yes, sir.” I knew he was f**king right.
One thing I’d gathered about Izzy through conversations with Thomas was that she was the most stubborn person he’d ever known. Izzy wouldn’t be the one to make the first step or reach out to me. I knew I had to be the bigger person in this nonexistent relationship.
I needed to at least contact her and hope she had changed her mind. If she hadn’t, I needed to find a way to help her do that. I needed to break down her walls. Finding the crack was the problem. Once I did, victory would be mine.
Me: Thinking of me?
Hopefully she hadn’t blocked my number. The girl was feisty enough that she’d do something like that. Try and remove all temptation from her life. I knew that if she responded, I had her.
I threw the phone down on my desk, grabbing a cup of coffee before going through some surveillance footage that had been gathered the night before. When I returned to my desk, I had a message waiting. I smiled to myself as I read her words, feeling victorious.
Sexy Fugitive: Hey.
It wasn’t much, but it was a reply. The name I’d put in my phone when saving her number fit our situation perfectly. I tapped my pencil against the desk, debating on how to respond.
Sexy Fugitive: I’m sorry.
I almost fell off my chair as I read her message. Izzy didn’t seem like the type of girl who used those words often. Her stubbornness did not allow her to admit when she was wrong or regretted something. My heart started to pound as I saw a glimmer of hope for us.
Rubbing my chin, I wondered if I should ask about which part. It could be about a myriad of things, including f**king me or kicking me out of bed afterward.
I’d let her be the one to explain her need to apologize. No way was I going to f**k up the one inroad I had. No f**king way in hell. Once that shit vanished, it would be gone for good.
I set my phone down, starting the video on my laptop of the MC in action last night. We had surveillance cameras everywhere outside their compound, and in areas Thomas had told us were usual spots where club business took place. When we were finally able to bring them down, we’d have video proof to back up the allegations.
Letting it continue to play, I picked up my phone to read her reply.
Sexy Fugitive: For being a bitch.