Shea laughed, the sound jarring through my senses, light and soft and alluring. “Well then, doubles it is.”
She turned on her heel, which tonight was about four-inches tall. The girl wore a pair of the sexiest boots I’d ever seen—black leather climbing her calves, ending just below her knees. And a skirt…this black skirt that was way too short, flowing down to brush at the lush flesh at the middle of her thighs. A thin white sweater hugged her waist, loose up top, dripping off one shoulder, a white little tank playing peek-a-boo from underneath.
My mouth was watering and I itched, my gaze refusing to leave her as she strutted away.
Ash poked his head up behind my shoulder, talking near my ear. “Damn, look at those legs. No wonder you keep crawling back here night after night.”
I elbowed him in the gut.
Laughing, he doubled over and clutched his stomach. But then he sent me this searching look that was a whole lot more wary than the constant ribbing he usually gave. Zee and Lyrik headed for the booth, and Ash took a couple steps backward, still facing me where I seemed to be rooted to the floor. “Need to tell her, man. You’re digging yourself a very deep grave.”
Agitation curled through me, and my eyes shifted between him and Shea who was now at the bar, chatting easily with Tamar, while she placed drinks on her tray.
But telling her would mean losing what she and I had. She’d know and she’d no longer look at me the way she did, like she saw beneath all the bullshit to what mattered. I wasn’t ready to give up the best thing I’d ever had.
I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Drawn, I steered in Shea’s direction, some kind of agitation spurring me on. I edged up behind her, hands going to the outside of her thighs, and my nose seeking safety in the full fall of her hair. I breathed her in.
Vanilla.
Sweet.
Sweet.
Sweet.
She jerked in surprise, then released a small giggle and leaned back into my hold.
With my nose, I brushed back some of the hair from her neck and whispered near her ear, “What the hell are you wearing?”
Over her shoulder, she smirked, and she lifted up the delicate cap of her delicious shoulder. “A skirt.”
“Really? Doesn’t look much like a skirt to me. Looks like a weapon of mass destruction, created with the sole purpose of driving men right out of their goddamned minds. What are you trying to do, make me insane?”
She shrugged a coy little shrug. “There’s just this boy I was hoping I might be able to lure home tonight.”
“Not much worry in that, baby. I’d follow you anywhere.”
“Really?” Vulnerability seeped into her tone. Speared by it, I stilled.
And I could hear her voice coming back to me from that first night. Will you stay? The fucked-up thing was, I was so desperate to keep her looking at me that way, but in that look was hope for what she shouldn’t be hoping for.
I was riding on it.
Biding my time until I crushed it.
Regret flamed at my insides, and softly I nudged her around and edged her up against the bar, sealing my mouth over hers. Her honeyed tongue was so warm and wet and welcoming.
God, I was truly losing my grip on my own fucked-up reality.
A dishtowel hit the side of our faces, and we both jerked back. Charlie flashed an impish grin from behind the bar. “Hey. No making out with the customers, Shea Bear.”
A chuckle rolled from me as Shea lit up in embarrassment. Just because I couldn’t resist, I leaned in to steal one more quick kiss.
She fisted my shirt in her hands, dragging me to her to steal her own, before she pushed me away by it. “Go on…let me grab your drinks and I’ll be right over with them.” Her chin lifted in a gesture behind me to the spot tucked in the corner, her voice raspy and low. “I think the guys think they’re about to get a show.”