Gash (The Skulls #13)(6)

By: Sam Crescent



Gash laughed. “It’ll only be a matter of time before she starts causing trouble.”

“I own a lot of knives and guns. Let the little dicks think they can get close to her. I’ll handle each and every one of them.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Gash stared at the curve of Charlotte’s back, and a memory that was distant of another back, a naked back, flashed through his mind. Blinking back the memories, he focused back on the call. “I’ve got to go.”





Chapter Two



Charlotte chopped the ingredients for the salad, trying her hardest not to listen to him, or to pay any attention to him. They were going back to The Skulls clubhouse. She never had anything to do with the club seven years ago, and Gash wasn’t the same man he used to be. Then again, she wasn’t the same woman. A lot had happened over the years to change her, and there was no way she’d ever be that same carefree woman again.

He ended the call, and she heard him move away from the table. She kept on chopping even as he moved up behind her.

“Did you have any other friends when we were younger?” he asked.

He moved her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck. His breath fanned across her ear, and she couldn’t help but close her eyes. Gash was stirring feelings and memories inside her that he couldn’t even remember. She recalled another night where he’d been like this, touching her, caressing her.

“Back away,” she said, whispering the words. It was hard as the two different times seem to merge in the one. She fought it. Charlotte wasn’t about to let herself be brought down by memories. They were her memories.

“You don’t sound like you want me to move away.” His hand gripped her hip while the other forced her to pause on chopping the salad. “Did you have a friend back then besides Rebecca?”

“I’ve told you before, Rebecca and I were roommates, that’s all. There was no one else.” Charlotte knew why he was asking, but she wouldn’t tell him what happened between them. He’d only laugh in her face. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Gash wanted to believe there was someone else there rather than see that it was her all along. He didn’t even suspect it could be her, and that fucking hurt.

“You feel so familiar, and you smell so damn good.” He pressed his face against her neck, taking a deep breath.

She gasped out at the flood of arousal that he caused, taking her off guard. She was transported to another time. The only difference between then and now was the fact he didn’t have the scent of alcohol on his breath. Last time, he’d been drinking, and at first, she had brushed him off. The biggest problem for her was the fact she had always had a crush on him, always. From the moment she first met him, she’d loved him. She had watched him with Rebecca, and even though there had been moments of jealousy, she never did anything about it. That night though, he’d been different. Yes, he’d been drunk, but she truly believed he had been himself. Gash had been sweet, nice, and tender, and he’d made her fall for him even more. He’d told her how beautiful she was, and how he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Even though he’d been drunk, she’d been pulled into his words, and that had been her mistake, and she shouldn’t have fallen for him.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“Why does this feel good?”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself a few seconds of enjoying his closeness when reality came back. He had attacked her. Gash had been more than ready to kill her, and she wasn’t ready to give in to him. She pushed him back with her ass. “Give me some space. It’s not very nice to invade my personal area.”

Charlotte finished chopping the salad, tossing the ingredients together and giving it a quick dressing before serving. Gash hadn’t moved away, but she ignored him. The last thing she wanted to do was cave. She had only known him for a short time when he was screwing Rebecca. She’d never wanted to be one of those women that dropped her panties the moment a guy looked her way, but Gash, he’d been different. At least, she thought he’d been different.

Putting his plate on the table, she took a seat, opening the food magazine that she had been reading that morning when her life had seemed so normal. She tried her hardest to ignore him. When he sat down, and his knees grazed hers, she struggled not to tense up from the simplest contact.

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