She wears savage and darkness equally well, the girl has always been half goddess and half hell.
The next day
I just pulled into the clubhouse lot to meet up with Ashton to have breakfast with his parents. I get out of my car and head inside. I scan the room in search of him but no dice. I take a seat at one of the tables and I pull out my phone.
I was fixing to send Ashton a text when someone clears their throat in order to obtain my attention. I look up and meet the gaze of a girl in her mid twenties. “Yes?” I ask. “Your not supposed to be here for the interview until later.” She tells me.
“Excuse me?” I ask genuinely confused. “The interview to be the new dancer.” She tells me. I chuckle. “What’s so funny?” She asks irritated. “Oh nothing. But I think you have the wrong person.” I tell her. Then I see Ashton walk down the stairs and into the main area.
“Over here Ash!” I yell as I stand up. “You don’t address him that way.” The woman scolds as she gets in my way. “I do whatever I want. Now if you would kindly get out of my space it would be greatly appreciated.” I tell her as I go to walk around her.
She grabs my shoulder. “Bitch you don’t get to act like you are better than me.” She tells me as she stands on her tiptoes just so she can get in my face. “I am better than you slut.” I tell her as I refer to her attire.
She goes to slap me but her hand is caught, and not by me. “You’re out of here.” Ashton grits out angrily. “But she..” The woman starts. “I don’t care. I want you gone.” He says cutting off what she was about to say. She goes to start again but one look from Ashton quickly shut her up. She leaves and he returns to his normal self. “Ready to go?” He asks. “Yep.” I tell him as we start to make our way to the door.
We get outside and I head for his truck. “Where are you going?” He asks. “To your truck unless you want me to drive my car.” I tell him. “I thought we could take my bike.” He tells me. “Sounds good to me.” I tell him as I turn to follow him to his bike.
We get on and I try to decide where I want to put my hands his waist or his shoulders, but that decision was taken away from me when he takes my hands and wraps them around his waist and puts them under his leather jacket.
The only thing between my hands and his chest is a thin black t-shirt. I restrain myself from running my fingers over his muscles that ripple under the material as he moves with the bike. We arrive all to soon at his parents house.