Rock Me Faster (Licks of Leather #4) - Jenna Jacob Page 0,10
him with alexithymia disorder, coupled with his anti-social behavior, and he’d feared that he’d been unable to love and would thus spend his life alone. Sources also report that Jennings, Ash, Page, and Wilson had been maintaining a twenty-four-seven suicide vigil in an attempt to keep Walker alive. Sadly, they failed and all fear that Walker is DEAD.
“Sources, my ass. Your sources are a couple of monkeys playing with a Magic 8 Ball.”
Unable to stomach the lies, I closed the app and pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache climbing my skull. I counted to ten, then reached for more coffee when my attention was snagged by a bottle of Jack at the bar. Yeah, I needed something stronger than caffeine, but it was only eight o’clock in the morning.
“Yeah, but it’s five thirty in Nepal,” I mumbled bitterly.
As I stood to pour a strong one, my cell phone pinged. I reached for the device, hoping a reporter hadn’t managed to get my number. If so, I’d need a new phone, because this one would be embedded in the drywall across the fucking room. My rage ebbed slightly when I glanced at the text from Angie, asking if I was all right. Sinking back onto the couch, I shook my head. Instead of texting her back, I punched in her number.
“Oh, thank god. You’re alive,” she exhaled in relief.
“And ready to kick some tabloid ass. Yes, I am.”
“I knew in my gut, but I had to make sure.”
“Why the fuck are you reading that trash anyway? You know better.”
“I do, but I turned on the television while folding clothes and—”
“You did laundry before I left yesterday. What are you washing now?”
“Your sheets.”
Alarm bells began clanging in my head. Angie never washed the sheets until I’d been gone for a week. She liked sleeping in my bed and smelling my scent. Coupled with the fact that she’d gone totally silent on me, it made the ominous gonging grow even louder.
I’m not going to be here forever…
The words she’d uttered yesterday morning made my stomach twist. She’d been trying to tell me something, but I hadn’t wanted to listen. I was listening now…to a silence that said way too much.
“What’s his name?” Forcing the question off my tongue, I scrubbed a hand over my head and struggled to tamp down my panic.
“Ross…”
“What’s his name?” I barked.
“Thomas Iverson.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as the bottom of my world fell out from under me.
“What does he do?”
“He’s an investment banker.”
He can take care of her.
“How old is he?”
“Fifty-three.”
He can take her to dinner, dancing, and the movies without judgmental stares.
“Have you fucked him?”
“No,” she bit out tersely.
But she’s planning on it…soon.
“Don’t fuck him in my bed.”
Why the hell did I say that?
“That’s not why I’m washing your sheets, Ross.”
“I know.” She’d washed them to symbolically free herself from my ghost.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No. Don’t you dare apologize. Understood?” I growled.
“I meant it when I said it’s time you started living again. Not because of me and Thomas…but for you. You deserve happ—”
“Does Thomas make you happy?” I purposely cut her off. I was the last bastard who deserved any fragments of joy.
“So far. It’s still new.”
“How long?”
“A couple of months.”
“Do you plan to be there when I get back?”
Why am I being such a selfish asshole? Angie deserves much more than this…than me.
“Of course.”
“If you’re with him when I come home, I don’t expect you to fuck me anymore.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so important for you to learn how to—”
“Sorry, babe. I gotta go. I’m meeting Quinn and the guys in the restaurant for breakfast and I’m late. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Ross.”
“You go live and have fun. I’m going to be just fine.” Liar.
“You will, because I’ll always be in your corner, cheering you on, no matter what.”
“Thanks, Ang. You’re amazing. I’ll touch base with you in a couple days.”
I ended the call completely gutted. A part of me felt as if Angie had just been plucked up by a rescue boat, leaving me alone on my isolated island.
I let out an angry growl. Self-pity wasn’t my style.
Besides, I couldn’t fault her for wanting more from life than coexisting with a fucked-up asshole like me. She was a warm, caring, giving woman who deserved a shit-ton of happiness. If push came to shove, there was always Club Genesis. Mika LeBrache would happily find me a switch who’d sate my sexual needs…with her fist. It’d be a miracle to