“Apartment number, Livi?”
“1223,” she mumbles.
“When you’re dressed, we’ll get your car so you can go back home and chill. Eat, Livi.” I point to the food. “I’ll be back soon.”
I walk down the stairs and look at Jag who has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Shut the fuck up and come with me. We’ll give Livi some privacy while we grab her car. Then you need to get your ass to the bar.”
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia
I hate that he is going to see where I live. I mean, it’s not a hole in the wall, but it’s not like his place, either. Although, I guess I have nothing to be ashamed of. It is mine, and I am supporting myself.
I rub my butt and nothing. I am in his sweats
The feeling of the material against my exposed skin is a reminder of how out of control I get whenever Hendrix Caldwell is concerned. I have never been this eager and free to have sex with anyone before. I have been on this journey since adolescence to find a way to be comfortable in my own skin.
Bryce was a teen boy. I was a young, teen girl. Neither of us were old enough or mature enough to deal with our hormones, much less what he would do in my bedroom those nights. It wasn’t until I found the website to order my empowerment panties that I was able to begin to feel okay about my own strange desires when he would touch me.
Sure, I didn’t ask for it. Yes, I would say no, even if it was in a whisper behind the cover of my shirt. My head was always covered. He didn’t have to look at my face, and I didn’t have to worry about my own embarrassment as my body reacted. I said no, but I didn’t fight. I didn’t resist. I wasn’t an active participant, but I felt. I felt it all.
Walking around to find a linen closet, I feel the ache between my legs, a reminder of my activities with Hendrix. I felt him, too. I felt it all, and it felt good, really good. I smile to myself.
He says it is a give and take between us. If he could only understand, he is giving me more than anyone ever has. He is allowing me to take back my body, my sexuality. He is allowing me to take back myself. Hendrix Caldwell, mister Broody himself, is giving me back a piece of myself that was lost so long ago.
I continue to smile to myself as I find the linen closet to change the bed sheets. Stripping his bed, I can’t help lifting the sheets to my face and breathing them in. The scent, a mix of me, him, and sex. It is heady, it is naughty, and it makes me hot all over again.
An hour later, the door opens while I am cleaning up the kitchen. I watch as Hendrix walks in with two big boxes with Jagger behind him, carrying two huge garbage bags.
“What’s going on?” I ask, taking one of the boxes to ease his load.
“You aren’t going back there,” Hendrix says as he sets a box down and starts heading to the door. Broody is back in full effect.
Jagger looks at me, winks, shrugs, and then sets the bags down.
“Wait, is this my stuff?” I gasp.
Hendrix pauses, while Jagger walks right past him and down the stairs. Hendrix turns around and looks at me. His lips are in a straight line as he stares at me.
“Hendrix?”
“You’re gonna stay here till we find you a place that’s—”
“Wait, hold on, stop right there.”
“Livi, I blew on your door, and the fucking thing opened. The hallway smells like animal and human waste, and your apartment reeks of bleach, so I know you are trying, but no one else is. I passed a cockroach trying to carry your couch out the fucking door.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine,” he snaps and waves his hand around the space. “This is fine. That place…” He starts pacing. “There was a crack-head in the hallway, passed out. When I walked in, there was a flood on the floor from pipes bursting. The clothes in that bag are soaked.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. I have plenty of room here. You’ll stay, or you can call a friend, but I’ll be damned if the chick who shared my bed last night lives like that.”
“You’re hurting my feelings.” I know I am going to cry. I feel the burn of the tears building.
“Babe, I’m not trying to, okay?”
“What does Sadi’s place look like, a palace?” My voice fails me by the end of my question, cracking.
“I don’t give a shit if she’s neighbors with the fucker selling crack out of your building right in the hall, right outside your door. She’s not you,” he snaps.