Trust: Not Until You, Part 4. Roni Loren
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I don’t fucking need this tonight. I’m going to bed. Try to keep it down.” He turned around and strode toward his bedroom ready to charge right through the solid wood of his door just to take the edge off his anger.
“Dude, calm the hell down,” Pike said from behind him. “It’s not—”
He slammed his door, blocking out the rest of Pike’s sentence. Asshole. All the girls in the world Pike could have, and he was going to mess with the only one that Foster couldn’t bear to imagine with anyone else.
There was a hard knock on his door. “Come on, man. Let me in.”
But Foster just ignored him as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, one of the buttons popping off completely in his haste to get in the shower and a block out everything outside. But right as he tossed his shirt on the bed, there was another knock on the door, this one not as heavy but just as urgent.
“Foster, open this door right now,” Cela demanded.
He turned toward the door, surprised at the ire in her voice. He’d heard her nervous, he’d heard her confused, and he knew exactly what she sounded like when he drew his tongue along the shell of her ear or up her thigh—but never had he heard her angry. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, he stalked to the door and swung it open. There she stood in her wrinkled pink scrub pants and a T-shirt, cheeks stained with color, and hair a little wild—looking as enticing as he’d ever seen her.
“We don’t need to do this, ang— Cela.” He caught himself right before he called her angel.
“The hell we don’t!” She pushed past him and into his room without invitation. “You can’t just walk in and throw out accusations when you don’t even know what’s going on.”
“Well, it’s not that hard a puzzle to put together.”
She gave him a disbelieving look, then put her hands to her temples and let out a diatribe in Spanish—his shy neighbor switching into some fiery Latina mode he didn’t know she was capable of. “You’re so—ugh. I can’t even believe you’re acting like this. Pike got a freaking dog, okay? I’ve been here all night trying to help him get everything set up for Monty, to teach him how to train him.”
“He did what?”
“If you had taken the time to ask the question or see the kennel in the corner, maybe you could’ve saved yourself from lighting into Pike and insulting me.”
“Insulting you?”
She held her hands out to her side, exasperated. “Foster, you just accused me of being the kind of girl who would sleep with you and then sneak around with your best friend. Why not just call me a slut and call it a day?”
He cringed. “I didn’t—”
“Speaking of which,” she continued, apparently not in the mood to listen to an apology. “What right do you have to come stomping through here like you have some right to me anyway? You walked away. You said good-bye. Who I hang out with is not your business.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “You know why I walked away.”
“Right. Yes. You’re the Big Bad Wolf, and I’m innocent Little Red Riding Hood. Got it. Let me go find my freaking picnic basket.”
She moved to walk past him, hair whipping behind her, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her. “You know it’s more than that. Don’t act like it’s a small thing.”
Those chocolate eyes held challenge as she met his gaze. “Isn’t it, though? So you’re a little kinky. Whatever. Big deal.”
“Whatever?”
She gave a petulant little shrug, and he wanted to turn her over his knee right there.
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