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CHAPTER EIGHT

  I love her… I hate myself, but I love her.

  Tex

  I pulled Mo aside while the new girl sat at the table gawking at all the fancy decorations.

  "Tex," she hissed, elbowing me in the stomach, "Not now. My roommate's right over there."

  "But…" I slid my hand up her back. "…I'm right here."

  She rolled her eyes.

  I kissed her neck. "Skip the dance."

  "No." She piled some food onto her plate and smirked. I knew her game; she knew mine. We flirted, we made out, and sometimes when she was feeling generous, she'd let me take off her shirt. But nothing had gone further, not since Nixon had discovered I was fascinated with his twin and thought his gun needed polishing.

  But I couldn't stop thinking about her mouth, her smile — damn, just everything about that woman had me wanting to fall to my knees in worship. The stupid part? I wanted it to be her — Mo. I wanted her to be the one I finally came clean to about all the shit from my past. Recently, it had been building. First finding my dad's pot getting distributed in the area. Second, seeing Nixon fully step into his part… as boss? Even while his dad lived? It made me wonder, it made me… want to have that kind of legacy. But I had nothing.

  Nothing but Mo.

  Which, honestly, I decided would be enough.

  I didn't need to be boss.

  I didn't need the responsibility of people looking to me for decisions.

  I just wanted her.

  "You're gorgeous," I whispered in her hair. "Tonight? When the girl who moos like a cow goes to bed…" I bit down on her lower lip and sucked. "…you're mine."

  She pulled away, her eyes hazy. "What? Are you sneaking into my room?"

  "Hell no." I smacked her ass. "You're sneaking into mine."

  "Dream on, Tex."

  "Oh I do, sweetheart. Believe you me." I licked my lips and closed my eyes, "I dream…"

  "Go bother someone else."

  "Tonight, Mo…" I winked. "…you'll be in my bed."

  She shifted uneasily on her feet. "Sleeping with the enemy, hmm?"

  It was like a bucket of ice water getting thrown over my entire body. Muscles rigid, I pulled back from her, forcing myself not to clam up. One simple taunting remark had me feeling like a kid again.

  When I'd been unloved, unwanted, uncared for.

  Hell, even now I belonged to no one.

  And she'd reminded me — that I didn't even belong to her.

  And probably never would.

  "You're roomie's waiting," I said in a detached voice and walked off, wishing like hell I would have been born with a different name than Tex Campisi.