A Stone in the Sea(32)
Fire and light.
I watched as her breath punched from her lungs. For a flash, her knees went weak when her attention was drawn across the room and she found me there. I got the feeling she did it every time she entered the bar, like that same curiosity that had brought me here time and time again compelled her to watch for my return.
Because Shea was hoping for something she shouldn’t have, too.
The crumpled expression that slashed lines across that gorgeous face told me she hated herself for being defenseless against it and that she’d never expected me to actually be here.
Hurt.
Hurt.
Hurt.
That emotion zinged through the stifled air like little bolts of lightning.
Hated that I was the one who was responsible for it.
She dropped her eyes to hide the vulnerability of her reaction just about as fast as they’d locked on mine. Rapidly, her shoulders lifted and fell as she studied the floor, like she was calling back her storm, gathering it up, all of that energy condensing to the size of a pinpoint.
It would only be a matter of time before it burst.
Deliberately, she lifted her face and looked at me, the quandary of emotions collected and locked down. Her sweet candied mouth tweaked in a firm set of defiance, every defense mechanism this girl had set to high power as she strutted over to our table, all long legs and slender shoulders and soft seduction.
Anticipation hardened every inch of my body.
Ash grinned at her when she stopped at our table. “Well if it isn’t Shea.”
“Yep, that’s me,” she said, clearly trying to blow off his enthusiasm, not at all interested in bar banter.
“What have you been up to, darlin’?” Apparently Ash was too dense to pick up on it or he just didn’t care.
Like he didn’t expect her to answer, he continued, “Figured there was no better place to be on a Friday night than surrounded by great music and an even prettier face. So here we are.”
That pretty face twisted up in some kind of agony, for a second those compressed emotions spilling over.
“That’s nice of you to say,” she muttered below her breath, seeking relief over her shoulder, scouring for the nearest escape route. Reluctantly, she turned back to us. “What can I get for y’all tonight? It’s happy hour and drafts are half off.”
She said it as if she hadn’t spent a night of flirting and playing just the week before, as if she didn’t recognize any of us and she didn’t know every single one of us by name.
As if she hadn’t climbed on the back of my bike and I hadn’t had her pinned against her outside wall.
Of course Zee and Lyrik sensed her discomfort. Lyrik just razzed me with a satisfied grin because the asshole seriously thought he was doing me a favor, while Zee frowned. Concern tipped his head as he studied her, eyes narrowed as he sat back in the booth. Mark had never been like that. Concerned. He didn’t give a whole lot of concern about anything but his brother and the band. Didn’t even care about himself. Maybe that’s why Zee was the complete opposite, making up for his brother’s many inadequacies.
Caring.
Caring.
Caring.
“Why don’t you just bring us all what we had last week?” Zee offered, and Shea sucked the edge of that plush, pink bottom lip between her teeth, chewed at it as she gave him a tight nod and took a step back, her glance tentative and swift as it passed over me, before she whirled around and went straight for the bar. She returned just a few minutes later, delivered the drinks as if I didn’t exist and she wanted me to remain that way.
“Thanks, darlin’,” Ash said, laying it on thick because he always did. Dude didn’t know any other way.
“Anytime,” she whispered.
When she left, Lyrik sprawled his arms out over the back of the booth, his tone all kinds of casual and directed entirely at me. “Do you want to know what I think? I think what we all need is to get laid tonight.” He patted me on the back of the head like I was a little kid. “What do you think, Baz Boy?”
My dick was definitely on board, but that was not gonna happen because somehow Shea had become the only thing I wanted, this untouchable girl the only thing I craved. I was itching to get lost in caramel eyes and to swim in honey skin. To be blinded by her light while she drowned me in her sea of dark.
I wanted to fuck and taste and explore. To skim along the fringes of sanity. To slip over the edges of it. To fall and do it without a shred of control.
Somehow I knew it was something I could only experience with her. Getting lost in wide, guileless eyes that still held a million secrets. Feeding off that sweet naivety while she owned me with clever, cunning hands.
No. The simplicity of Shea could never be mistaken for ignorance.