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.”
Even though I wasn’t looking at her, I could still feel her judgmental eyes narrow into slits. “You certain about that? He sure seems to think so.”
Humorless laughter seeped from me, and I lifted the container that held all the condiments and scrubbed under it before I set it back down. “Lots of guys think we’re friends,” I said with all the sarcasm I could muster.
“He seems to be the first one you’re inclined to agree.”
I stopped to look at her. “What?”
Red lips spread into a knowing smirk. “Oh, come on, Shea, you’ve been a jittery mess since the moment he came waltzing in here last night.”