Spiked by Love (Bellevue Bullies 6)
He looks from me, unsettled, to his buddy, who is gawking at me. “She’s accusing me of touching her, when I only touched what she offered up. She was dancing like a porn star. She wanted to be touched.”
“Did she give you consent?” I scream, and his eyes widen as they fill with darkness. “She can wear nothing in the middle of the commons, twerk, and pop ping-pong balls out of her pussy, and you still have no right to touch her.”
“Ally, stop. It’s over.” I hear Angie say, but I’m already going.
“Whatever. She wanted it,” he says, so unconcerned for her well-being and disrespectful of me. I knew he was shit. I knew it, yet I let him around my cousin and myself. My anger shakes me to my core as the tears start to fall.
“You don’t get to decide that!”
“Get the fuck out of my face. You ain’t shit.”
I can’t even think straight, to be honest. I don’t think—I just shove him, hard, catching him off-balance, and he tumbles to the ground. He starts to get up as I scream, “I am calling the police on you, and—”
Before I can finish, his hand is at my throat, lifting me up to my tippy-toes. I cry out, holding his wrist as everyone screams around us, trying to stop him. His face comes close to mine, and I swear I see the devil in his soul. His grip on me is tight, blocking my airway, and I slam my fist into his wrist, trying to get him to let go of me. His eyes burn into mine, unflinching, as he yells, “You put your hands on me again, I will kill—”
His words don’t make it out of his mouth before his head is whipped to the side by a really big fist. His hold on me is gone, and I stumble back into Angie’s arms. I’m disoriented, but when I see him, I can’t breathe.
Asher.
Chapter Fifteen
Asher
When Ally leaves, I don’t answer Wes’s question about us. There is no point; she made it very clear we are nothing. Multiple times. I’m unsure why that bothers me, but it does. Makes no sense, yet here I am in my feelings as I scroll through Facebook. I don’t even understand these emotions. They’ve come out of left field. Our game night stops once Ally is gone, and soon after, Shelli and Aiden show Boon and Posey the rest of the place. I guess neither Wes nor I care because we stay where we are, on our phones. I text Tony to let him know I will be heading in to get the jumbotron cleaned and to change the bulbs that finally came in. I feel kind of rude not talking to Wes, he’s obviously important to my brother, so I clear my throat as I set down my phone. Really, I’m just trying to distract myself from thinking of Ally.
I hate that she’s going out with Taco. I really don’t know why she is. They haven’t been talking much, and he’s still a douchenozzle. I also hate that I can’t get the memory of her thighs out of my mind. It’s as if the image is seared into my brain. I guess I could have worse things seared in there, but it makes no sense. I’ve seen her in her Spanx, jumping and being a badass volleyball star, but it was her regular-length shorts that had me drooling.
What. In. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck.
“So, Wes, are you the Wes that my sister thinks is hot?”
&nbs
p; His brow perks as he looks up at me. He is totally someone Stella would go after. Simply because he plays hockey. I feel like that’s her only condition. I really don’t get it since we grew up without our dad for months when we were younger—why she would want to be involved with that? But she has only dated hockey players. Love them, craves them. She’s weird.
“Stella thinks I’m hot?”
“If you’re the Wes she talks about, then, yes, I assume so.”
“Man, she’s so fucking hot.” That bothers me a bit. Funny, I usually don’t care. I mean, Stella is beautiful and so is Emery, but in all reality, no bad dude would survive with either of them. No guy has ever spoken about my sisters. Wes nods, this shit-eating grin on his face, but then it vanishes. “Aiden told me to stay clear.”
“Eh, I’m not surprised. But I know Stella. She’ll do what she wants.”
He strokes his jaw as he sets down his phone. “I’m not a relationship kind of person, so I wouldn’t be good for her.”
I shrug. “Ah, okay.”
“Is that Ally girl really dating a dude name Taco?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, apparently.”
“So, she’s one of those serious relationship types? No hookups?”
I blink. “I don’t know. It changes. Right now, he’s a hookup but almost a potential relationship.” Why does it make me gag saying that? Wes nods, and I ask, “Why do you ask?”
“She’s hot. Thought I would see if she was interested.”
Why am I squinting and wishing this guy to the place where Shelli’s Wedding Book from Hell belongs? “But you just said you don’t want a relationship.”