A Stone in the Sea(11)

Then she untangled herself and took two steps forward, her shoulders slumped and her head dropped toward the ground.

Defeated.

Pausing, she looked back at me. Warily. With sadness? I wanted to wipe that look from those caramel eyes, eyes whose golden flecks glinted in the light above us.

Maybe that’s why I was here, because I could feel her inner turmoil, something deep and dark, just like me, something hard and tainted that was searching for freedom.

I felt my control slip a little further.

I knew it then. What I wanted.

To lose control.

Just for a few hours.

And I wanted to lose it with her.





I SQUINTED THROUGH THE HAZE of light shed by the sagging lamp swinging from the low ceiling, peering over my shoulder deeper into the hallway where I’d left Baz staring back at me. I wanted to make sense of his expression. To make sense of the confusion and hunger smoldering in those strange grey eyes. To make sense of the crazy reaction he’d sent curling through every last one of my nerves.

This wasn’t me.

Heart thundering, legs shaking, desire a constant throb right between my thighs.

Yet here I was, my senses on overload, all from a stranger’s accosted touch in a dim, dank hallway. It wasn’t as if I didn’t get hit on all the time. It came with the territory of working at a bar. The alcohol-coated pick-up lines, things guys would never have the guts to say without the courage found in the bottles lined up behind the bar, too friendly hands, and leering eyes.

I’d always remained immune.

Until him.

Baz.

This guy who looked at me as if he wanted to sink inside me, searching for a place to drown.

I wanted to let him.

My eyes got stuck on the bob of his thick, strong neck when he swallowed. I knew he’d caught me when his jaw clenched and his hands fisted, before his body took on a confident swagger as he came toward me. He slowed, and his mouth brushed against my jawline that was still twisted his direction as he passed. “Until next time, Shea from Savannah.”

His voice was like gravel and scraped across my skin.

God, I liked it.

Ripples of need surged through my veins. I stood there, trying to catch my breath as I slowly unfolded myself and watched him wind his way back to the hidden booth in the very corner of the bar. I was pretty sure I would forevermore think of it as his. Digging his wallet from his back pocket, he tossed another bill onto the table, which I had to assume was only going to be another outrageous example of this guy’s oppressive presence.

Too big and strong and mysterious.

Was he trying to impress me?

I shook my head.

No.

Somehow I knew he had nothing to prove.

Exactly the opposite, actually. It was like this stranger was begging me to see beneath all that coarse, harsh beauty.

Guys like him had never been my style, if I even really had a style anymore. I never went for the boy who screamed trouble and heartache and a fast, hard, blinding bliss kind of ride before he ripped apart your little world when he left.

Didn’t matter anyway.

Because what I’d told him was the truth. He didn’t understand. And he wouldn’t. They never did. And I didn’t have time for those types of distractions. Because guys like him? That’s the only thing they’d ever allow me to be.

On shaky feet, I forced myself to get back to work. I slipped out from the hallway, feeling another shudder roll through me when I caught the way Tamar was eyeing me when I ducked beneath the opening to the bar at the far end. I grabbed a towel and began scrubbing down the gleaming surface, head bowed, and pretending I couldn’t feel the intensity radiating from both of Sebastian and Tamar.

But I couldn’t help myself, and my gaze got drawn to the movement. In my periphery, I watched the shadowy figure make his way back through the twist of high-top tables toward the entrance. Was it sick that I was hit with the overwhelming urge to drop everything I was doing and follow?

He was tall, but not extremely so, maybe six feet, but it was the way he moved across the floor, the power behind his long stride and the ripple of corded muscles exposed in his arms that made him appear massive. A black tee was stretched across his wide, wide shoulders, snug where it clung to the strength of his back, gripping tight at his narrow waist.

God.

He was beautiful.

Glancing back, he pushed his hand through the longer pieces of brown hair that fell across his eye, and my hands felt shaky, fingers tingly, shattered with the need to be doing that myself.

Tamar stepped into my view, her vivid blue eyes filled with far too much interest. Subtly she cocked her head toward Baz, continuing to dry off the glass she held in her hand. “Who’s your friend?”

I tore my gaze from Baz who’d stopped to look back at me and dismissed her with a shake of my head, diving back into wiping down the bar top. “Not my friend.”