Page 7 of His Greatest Muse
Right. Her new manager/trainer.
Frustration bubbles in my gut. This fucking argument again. “It will be fine.”
My spine stiffens when I hear her walking toward me. She sighs, and a beat later, she touches my shoulder. I grind my jaw at the touch. It feels too good. Always does.
“I’ll be with you whenever I can, okay? Plus, we don’t want you to get too sick of me.”
“If I was going to get sick of you, I would have already.”
It’s not as if I want to be this attached to her. I’ve never wanted that. Never asked for this dependency that I have for her. It just happened, as if the universe was punishing her for something she did in a past life by giving her to me. There’s no other explanation.
She might be my salvation, but I’m her damnation.
I always will be.
“That’s true, I guess,” she murmurs, removing her hand from my back only to slip in front of me and grip my wrist when I start to tap the tops of my thighs. Her fingers can barely touch around the thickness of it, and a sick satisfaction tears through me.
I stare down at our hands, the heat from her touch seeping into my wrist bone. “I want you there. Don’t make me go without you again.” The words are gruff, my emotions far too exposed.
Tinsley blinks up at me, silver eyes shining with sympathy in a way I detest. “Let’s just enjoy the next few weeks together, yeah?” she offers quickly, not missing my dwindling patience. “I’ve been missing seeing you play, and I assume you’ll be playing around here while you’re home, right?”
I nod. If I don’t play, I’ll be bored. And when I’m bored . . . I just don’t fucking like it. Music empties my head. Quiets the world.
She smiles at me and drops my hand, taking a step back. “Perfect. I’m going to shower, and then we can go home? You brought my present, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you back here.”
With a nod and a new pep in her step, she heads to the women’s locker room, disappearing from my sight. I stand there for too long after, simply staring at the wall I know hides the showers as every instinct in me screams to follow her and make sure she’s safe. It’s possessive, ridiculous.It’s me. I’ve never been able to shake the urge to protect her. Even when it comes to protecting her from myself.
It’s why she didn’t invite me to follow her to the shower. Why she never has and never will. The only danger to Tinsley is myself, yet I’ll never be willing to eliminate the threat.
3
TINSLEY
To no one’s surprise,we find Josh passed out on the sofa when we get home. The smell of sweat, booze, and something else that makes my stomach roll wafts off his clothes, filling the air. I crinkle my nose and leave Noah in the doorway, needing away from our roommate before I spew chunks.
I come to an abrupt halt when I hear a pained groan and then a thump. Spinning, I suck in a sharp breath as I take in the sight. Noah has yanked Josh off the couch, leaving him sprawled out on the floor, gasping in shock. With an eerie calmness, Noah crouches in front of him and cocks an eyebrow.
“Just leave him,” I say on a tired exhale. The last thing I want after a day of training is to have to peel the two of them apart, even if Josh had it coming.
Plus, I want to put my new present away. The dainty golden chain sits heavily in the pocket of my shorts, and I’m itching to add it to the collection of jewelry Noah has gotten me over the years.
Noah lifts his eyes and looks at me, face blank. Then, he just shakes his head, glaring at Josh again.
“You smell like pussy and kush. I told you not to bring that shit here,” he says, the words bitter and cold.
“I didn’t bring it here. Do you see any pussy, asshole?” Josh smarts, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes. With a smirk, he adds, “And I don’t mean Tinsley.”
Noah’s jaw pulses. His fingers curl where he has them holding his knees. “I would fucking hope you weren’t referring to her as pussy.”
I roll my eyes, huffing a breath. “Josh, can you just go shower, please. You really do stink. It’s all over the living room.”
He grunts and pushes to his feet, struggling far too much to gain balance. We really do need to get him out of our house and into one of his own. But would he even survive on his own at this rate? I’m sure having us here with him is the only thing keeping him from totally losing it.
“Thanks for the wake-up call, Mom and Dad,” he mumbles. As he stalks off, he sways on his feet, knocking his shoulder into the wall before slipping into the bathroom.
“He needs to leave,” Noah announces.