Resist Me(5)

By: Chelle Bliss

He wasn’t a bad-looking man for someone his age. His long, gray hair was pulled back in a low-slung ponytail, making his emerald-green eyes stand out. A small patch of salt-and-pepper facial hair framed his thin lips. He looked a little like Santa Claus on crack. The vest covering his black t-shirt was the same cut as the one Flash was wearing, but it had more patches—including one that stated he was the VP.

“Why don’t you sit down with us and have a drink?” He lightly patted the empty chair next to him, never taking his eyes off me.

Flash moved in front of me and started to sit, but the VP grabbed his arm.

“I meant her, you idiot. Not you.”

Flash stopped dead, with his ass hovering just above the seat. “Oh, sorry, man.”

What type of man would let another one talk to him that way? The way he’d said “idiot” hadn’t been the same as when my brothers called each other “jackass” or “dumbfuck.” His dislike for Flash was clearly evident in his tone, but Flash did as he was told, like a good soldier.

I slid into the wooden chair as Flash gripped my shoulder. “Thanks,” I whispered, folding my hands in my lap.

“My name’s Rebel,” he said as he brought my hand to his mouth, running his prickly lips across my skin. “These are the guys.” He placed my hand on his leg, patting it, and then grabbed his beer.

Flash’s grasp on my shoulder hardened, but I didn’t dare look up at him.

Fuck. How had my dumb ass gotten into this situation? Flash was a stupid bastard. I should’ve listened to Joe and Mike, but then again, I never did.

“Hey,” I said, slowly looking around the table. I tried not to linger on any one man too long.

They all said, “Hey,” and smiled—except for one man. The long hair hid his face as he picked at the label on the bottle. His reaction to me wasn’t friendly or welcoming like the others’. Nope, he was avoiding me.

“So, Isabella,” Rebel said, pulling my attention back to him. “Can I call you that? You don’t mind, do you?” He leaned into my personal space and squeezed my thigh. The stench of cigarettes and stale beer invaded my nostrils.

Flash gripped my shoulder and Rebel held my thigh. I knew Flash wouldn’t do shit. He was the prospect, the one trying to get in the club, and Rebel knew it. I just needed to be agreeable and get the hell out of here for my sake and for Flash’s pussy ass.

I bit the corner of my lip before responding. “Sure.” The only people in my life who called me Isabella—who I allowed to call me by my full name—were my parents. I didn’t think telling Rebel to go fuck himself would be good for anyone.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I felt like someone was watching me. Without looking, I noticed him staring at me out of the corner of my eye as I kept my attention on Rebel. It bugged the fuck out of me. I wanted to get a glimpse of him, just for a second, but Rebel wanted my total attention.

“Flash, go fetch me a beer and get something for the beautiful girl too,” Rebel demanded, staring at me, paying no attention to Flash or anyone else.

My eyes flickered to his face as he barked orders to Flash. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything to drink.” The last thing I wanted was to drink anything that wouldn’t allow me to be in control. Being around Flash was one thing, but I didn’t trust the men sitting at the table.

Flash didn’t move. He kept his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and I could almost feel the tension radiating from his body.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fucking drinks, boy!” Rebel roared, slamming his fist on the table.

I jumped. The anger that oozed out of him put me on edge. My heart stuttered in my chest and I wanted to get out of here. Flash released my shoulder, leaving me alone with Rebel.

Rebel leaned over, twirling my hair with his fingers. “So, darlin’ Isabella, tell me about yourself.”

I looked down at my hands, trying to stop the urge to bat him away. “Not much to tell,” I whispered.

He pushed the hair over my shoulder, running his fingertips down my skin, lingering on my collarbone. “I doubt that, Isabella.” As he drew out my name, rolling the last bit off his tongue, his breath tickled my nose.

Small prickles slid down my neck, the hair still standing at attention. I leaned back in my chair, trying to escape his invasion of my personal space, pissed off that Flash had brought me here and then left me like a pansy ass.

“Tell me about you, Rebel.” I was deflecting. A man like him had to be full of himself, drunk off power, and I prayed it would take the focus off me.

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