Resistance Read online

  “Hi.” She smiles coyly.

  “Hi,” I grind out.

  “Dance with me?” she asks, looking up at me through thick black lashes. I reach out and spread the palms of my hands on her hips before pulling her closer a little more roughly than anticipated. Her small hands come up and rest on my biceps as I start to move us to the music. “Tambourine” blares from the speakers. I’m not the best dancer but I’m not the worst either. Pepper shakes her hips, sending shock waves through me straight to my dick. Greta watches me from the corner of her eye as she shimmies with a tall, strapping guy next to us. I glide my hands up to Pepper’s waist, my thumbs almost able to stroke the sides of her breasts. From my height I can watch the sway of her breasts as she moves perfectly. A long, gold chain hangs between them, a ring hanging off it. The diamond glints in the blinking lights surrounding the dance floor.

  A ring? She twists just as I’m about to make contact with the soft, full mounds, pushing her rear into my crotch just slightly. My dick jumps to attention and a groan falls out of me. My hands grip her waist tightly, trying to hold her in place as she dances. Her hands cover mine and squeeze gently. She turns again, facing me, hands on either side of my neck, and pulls my face closer to hers. Thank God. Her lips graze the shell of my ear as she says, “You’re a good dancer.” I laugh and shake my head at her. Her hands drop to my forearms and slide lower until she takes my hands in hers. I release one hand and use the other to twirl her. She cackles with laughter as I pull her back to me and rock us back and forth.

  “Who’s that?” she shouts over the music, eyeing Hoot who is now dancing with Greta. Unfortunately Greta looks bored.

  “Hoot. MC brother,” I answer.

  “Boys’ night out?”

  “Girls’ night out?” I ask.

  “Fun night out,” she states. “Blowing off steam.” Her eyes gleam with mischief. I lean closer to her. Her eyes are mildly bloodshot. I wonder if she’s high again.

  “Ditto,” I mouth in her ear. Goose bumps break out down her neck and arms. I push in a half an inch further to kiss the spot under her ear but she pulls away before I make contact. Damn.

  “Control yourself, friend,” she chastises playfully. A light sheen of sweat coats her face and cleavage. I want to taste it. She looks wild with her hair tousled, her dark, stormy eye makeup, her revealing outfit. Her legs appear to go on for days in those heels. And those pouty, full lips…

  “Working on it,” I mutter, discouraged. Her hand moves like lightning, cupping me. Her eyes widen with mine as she feels my obvious hardness and then she smirks, removing her hand and backing up a step. I feel like I’m going to explode. She doesn’t seem to play fair. Carmine slams his hand on my shoulder, hard, jarring me.

  “Pepper, this is Carmine,” I say, trying to discreetly adjust my erection. Carmine nods and extends a hand to her. Pepper’s eyes narrow at him but she quickly shakes his hand. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her, like he wants to consume her, but not in a sexual way, in a way that screams rage. Greta obviously picks up on this too because in an instant she’s stepping in front of Pepper, introducing herself. Carmine tears his gaze from Pepper and smiles at Greta.

  “You ladies want a drink?” he asks.

  “No thanks. We’re about ready to leave,” Greta answers.

  “Shame,” Carmine replies.

  “Not the way I see it,” Greta responds coolly. Carmine’s lips lift into a faint snarl. What the hell is going on? I really don’t like drunk Carmine. At. All. This is embarrassing.

  “You got something to say?” he questions menacingly. I need to get them apart. Greta, although trained to do damage, would never forgive me if anything happened to her or Pepper at the hands of a man. My instincts are screaming at me, shouting that Carmine would absolutely put his hands on a woman. It makes my stomach roll.

  “Dude. Let’s bail. It’s last call anyways,” I shout over the music. Greta looks ready to pounce and Pepper wobbles, slightly buzzed, behind her with Hoot at her side.

  “I wanna hear what blondey here has to say,” Carmine bites out, not backing down. I slap a hand on his shoulder and spin him to me.

  “What the fuck, man. Grab the redhead and let’s go,” I state firmly. Carmine stares me down for what seems like an eternity until finally nodding his head and stalking off.

  “Some friend,” Greta spits viciously.

  “I’m not sure we’re friends after tonight. He’s a Mayhem prospect too but...” I trail off. The music abruptly stops and a loud pop explodes from the speaker. I flinch at the unexpected noise. Greta whirls around, looking for the source of the sound, and Pepper crouches, eyes wide, terrified. Hoot reaches his hand to her and she cautiously stands, eyes trailing over every dark corner of the bar. Curious. Most everyone in the bar jumped, flinched, or was already too drunk or deaf to react. Greta grabs Pepper’s hand and tugs her towards the door in a rush. You’d think by their reaction that a gunshot sounded off. Pepper halts and turns back to me.

  “Night,” she calls out. I raise a hand at her, signaling my goodbye as Greta tugs on her hand and she disappears out the bar door. I’m rooted in my spot wondering about too many different things. I’ve been cockblocked, turned on, shot down, and offended by someone who’s supposed to be a friend. I should have just stayed home tonight.

  Chapter 12

  Counter Resistance...Kinda

  Saturday morning I had the brilliant idea to see if Pepper wanted to hike Cascades Waterfalls with me. After a witty exchange of texts she said that Greta and she would happily join me after their morning gym session. I called Hoot to see if he wanted to come along too so it’s not just Greta and Pepper picking on me the entire time. Hoot agreed and we all piled into my truck around ten a.m.

  A little over twenty miles northwest of Blacksburg are the Cascades, one of my favorite places to go and clear my head. It’s a beautiful spot. Normally I enjoy the ride on my bike, but today I’m taking the truck so we can all ride together. There is a picnic area by the river where you park that has bathrooms. I shell out the three dollars to park and we pull into a vacant space near the restrooms.

  “The trailhead is at the upper end of the parking lot.” I nod towards the trailhead as I pull my hiking pack from the bed of the truck. Hoot grabs his bag and turns to Greta.

  “You might need to hold my hand in a few tricky places,” he says and waggles his eyebrows. I quietly chuckle and make a face at Pepper. We both know Greta won’t need help with anything. Pepper and Greta hit the restrooms before we get going.

  “Hoot, man, you gotta lay off Greta. I’m telling you, she could do serious damage.”

  “I think she likes my sense of humor. Until she lays me out, I’ll stick to my tactics.”

  I snort at him, rolling my eyes. He’s a great guy, just not so fast at learning how to talk to women. After the ladies use the restrooms we start on the trail. The weather today is perfect, seventy and sunny. Pepper’s khaki shorts and loose-fitting tank make her skin look even more tan than usual. I purposely walk behind her a step to take in the glorious view that is her ass. A few long, wispy strands of hair that have fallen loose from her messy bun curl in the light humidity. The trail follows Big Stoney Creek upstream, forking into an upper and lower trail. Pepper walks silently with swift, weightless steps, taking in the views before her.

  “This place is stunning,” Greta comments.

  “So are you,” Hoot retorts.

  “Please, stop the drivel,” Greta remarks, sending Pepper into a fit of laughter.

  “Ouch, that was harsh,” I say.

  “Flattery is useless to me,” Greta says as if that explains something deep about her.

  “But nice to hear sometimes,” Pepper chimes in optimistically. She pats Hoot on the back and winks. It’s adorable to watch her try and motivate him even though Greta is clearly rejecting the kid.

  “Greta, you’re a tough nut to crack,” Hoot says and then chuckles.

  “I’m an acq
uired taste is all,” she smirks. I grab Pepper’s hand and tug it gently until she pulls back from Greta and Hoot, falling into step with me.

  “Are you having fun?”

  “This place really is amazing. I love the sound of the rushing water. It’s really peaceful,” she answers.

  “Good.” I grin.

  “You’re decent company too,” she admits and smiles back at me.

  “Just decent huh?” I ask. Her response comes in the form of a wink.

  When we finally cross the second bridge, we’ve reached the halfway point to the waterfall. The trail follows the stream closely past beautiful cascades and pools. Pepper stays close, shoulder brushing my arm and occasionally taking my hand to help her across tricky portions of the trail. I want to grab her hand in mine or wrap an arm around her as we go but I know that I’m supposed to be friend-zoned so I don’t. I let her lead. Shared smirks, brushing limbs, and the peacefulness that surrounds us make me hard and I have to keep mentally picturing baby seal clubbers to stifle my raging hard-on. The sexual tension between us is palpable. Every casual touch lingers just slightly too long, every shared glance meaning just a little too much. She’d be a fool if she thinks I haven’t noticed her eyes wandering, following the movements of my muscles as we hike.

  After the trails rejoin, they snake their way through the narrow gorge between high cliff walls, winding through moss-covered boulders and cutting through rhododendron thickets. The roar of Little Stony is a constant companion as we climb toward the main waterfall. The trail clings more desperately to the steep banks of the gorge here. Raised stone walkways, held together with steel pins, make it passable. But the rougher the terrain gets, the more impressive the sights. And the more Pepper looks to me for help navigating the terrain. Her quiet nature and natural beauty draw me in with every step we take. Furious white water rips between boulders to fall, churning into a pool below. Up ahead, a small stream tumbles down the side of a cliff into Little Stony.

  After passing an old stone building, the falls come into view, a stunning climax to the trek we’ve just made. The base of the sixty-six-foot waterfall reveals lots of people relaxing and picnicking, just as we’re about to do.

  “Pick a spot ladies and let’s have lunch!” I shout over the roaring water. The waterfall reigns in a bowl-shaped arena it has carved from the mountain. The rushing waters leap from the edge, cascading down the rock wall, landing in churning turmoil in the pool below. The sight is spectacular. I’m hoping that Pepper thinks so, too. I want her to enjoy herself. I want her to see that she can have a life that’s full and inclusive of me. It doesn’t just have to be friends or fuck buddies.

  Pepper plops down on a flat rock near the water’s edge and tucks her knees up under her chin while taking in our surroundings. Greta and Hoot are still bickering good-naturedly but the sound of the water pummeling into the pool drowns them out. I set my pack down and crouch next to Pepper.

  “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “It’s really amazing. Like a little slice of heaven tucked away in the woods. Do you think the water’s warm?” she asks, staring at it longingly. A bead of sweat trickles down her neck. I reach out and wipe it away with a finger. Goose bumps break out along her skin. Her pupils dilate at her body’s traitorous reaction.

  “Care to find out?” I ask, still crouching next to her.

  “What are you doing?” she asks carefully. Her mouth forms a perfect “O” as I hoist her up into my arms swiftly.

  “Checking the water temperature.” I laugh and swing her up in a bridal hold and leap off the rock, clothes on, into the water. She pops up, still squealing and wiping water from her eyes. Looking around furiously, she spots me and swims over.

  “You shit! It’s cold!” she says, trying not to let the smile creep over her face.

  “That it is.” I laugh, swimming away towards the shoreline. She follows, climbing out behind me, her clothes saturated and clinging to her body, the white of her tank, sheer and skin-colored—it makes my heart race. Her perky breasts stand at attention from the cold water and a pale pink bra does little to hide her.

  “Eh hem…” she clears her throat, hand extended outward. I snap my eyes to hers, embarrassed that I’ve been caught staring at her chest.

  “What?”

  “Your shirt. There are kids here,” she says, eyes bugging out, alluding to her see-through top. I strip off my sopping wet black tee and hand it over. Her eyes linger on the ridges and plains of my stomach a little too long to just be friends. Although her six-pack totally rivals mine, she seems fixated on my naked upper half. I stretch, flexing my muscles and enjoying inflicting a little sexual-tension torture on her.

  “Damn, Sawyer, you’re making me look bad!” Hoot calls out on a laugh. He’s topless, propped up on his elbows, catching some sun. He does not have a six-pack, but he’s not pudgy either. He simply is firm with no definition. I snort and sit down on the rock next to Pepper. She looks adorable swallowed up in my tee. Her shorts are lying flat on the rock next to her, drying in the sun. When did she remove her pants?

  “No pants?” I question.

  “I think your t-shirt covers all my bits,” she says and chuckles. I stifle a groan as I lean back on my arms and tilt my face up to the sky.

  “I am starving,” Greta declares with a sly smile. “What’d you bring for lunch?”

  “Well you’re in luck because I didn’t let Hoot pack the food,” I answer. “Otherwise we’d be enjoying a twelve-pack and some salt and vinegar chips.” Greta cackles and scoots closer to Pepper, leaning in and whispering something in her ear that brings a brilliant smile to her face while I rummage through my pack, pulling out our lunches.

  We’re all packed up, full and mostly dry from our lunch at the waterfall. “Tradition states that the upper trail be taken back,” I announce to the group.

  “Says who?” Pepper questions.

  “Tradition.”

  “But that view was really pretty, why not do it again?”

  “Why not try something new?” I push.

  “New is overrated sometimes,” she says, looking away.

  “The lower trail is definitely the more beautiful of the two but I think you’ll like the upper trail too. And new is really good sometimes,” I say, nudging her playfully. Her lips turn up just slightly before we all start our trip back.

  From its lofty perch on the side of the gorge, this trail gives a new perspective of Little Stony. The hike ends where it began, at the parking lot. The girls scurry off to the bathroom to relieve themselves as Hoot and I toss our now empty backpacks into the bed of the truck.

  “Think Greta will say yes if I ask her out?” Hoot asks.

  “Maybe?” I shrug.

  “She’s so flippin’ hot. Like, I want to maul her every time I see her.” He smiles.

  “So, all two times?” I laugh. He punches my arm and laughs with me.

  “It’s five already!” Greta declares in mock horror.

  “It took three-and-a-half hours to do the hike both ways. But we also stopped to eat.”

  “Felt like six but then I don’t do a lot of hikes,” she grumbles good-naturedly.

  We pile into the truck, Greta and Hoot in the back and Pepper and me up front. The drive is quiet and rather uneventful as everyone’s tired from a day out in the fresh air. Pulling into the driveway at home, Hoot files out first, helping Greta down and slapping her ass as she walks to her car. She glowers at him while Pepper and I laugh at their ridiculous antics. Greta pulls out of the driveway followed by Hoot, leaving Pepper and me alone.

  “Need any help bringing anything in?” she asks, hands tucked into her damp pockets. Her hair blows in the wind, sending it swirling around her face. She looks angelic. I fight the urge to tuck her hair behind her ears.

  “Nah. I’m good,” I answer, holding the empty backpack up.

  “Okay,” she says more to her toes than to me. I want to tell her to come inside. I want to take her in my arms and k
iss her. I want to do a lot of things but I don't. I won’t. She wants to make the first move. So I’ll let her.

  “Thanks for coming today. It’s better with someone else,” I say. Her eyes meet mine, holding them. I feel like I have the world at my feet but I’m tripping over it somehow. I try to look away from her, from the need and want I see her warring with, but I can’t. Trapped in silent warfare, I wait, poised to strike if she gives me just the faintest of signs that she wants it. A faint scar runs the length of an inch near her temple, and another at the crook of her armpit. I want to touch them, kiss them. I want to know where they came from. She takes a hesitant step towards me and I war with my body to stay still.

  “Thanks for a really nice day, Sawyer,” she says, stepping into my space. She wraps her hands around my torso and squeezes. A hug. I let my disappointment out on an exhale and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Her arms linger around me just a little too long for friends. She releases me with a timid smile and heads to her car.

  “Bye,” I call out. We talked. We laughed. We sat real close and held hands. By the time she pulls out of the driveway, I know I’m already a goner.

  Chapter 13

  Sickness Brings Tenderness

  Fuck. My head feels like it’s going to explode with pressure. My nose is thick and swollen with mucus, my throat’s burning, and my chest is tight. Sick. As. Fuck. I hate being sick with a passion. I am a whiny baby. I want someone to dote on me and baby me. I roll to my side and grab a tissue from my nightstand, tossing it to the floor with a groan when it’s used. I sit up gingerly, wondering how in the hell a full-blown cold can develop in the course of twelve hours. I felt just fine yesterday. The house phone rings. Its shrill noise makes me cringe. I shuffle to the nearest portable and grab it. Who the hell is calling at seven thirty a.m.?

  “What?” I snap into the receiver.

  “That’s mean,” Allie scoffs. I drag a hand down my face and toy with my lip ring.