He leans in close and whispers in her ear. Her lips move, and whatever she says brings his hand to her hair. With a few passes of his thumb against her jaw, he coaxes her lips closer to his. Oh, God. He’s going to kiss her.
Again, I try to avert my gaze. Unable to break the hypnosis, I watch in animal-documentary slow motion as he tightens his fingers in her hair and pulls her to his mouth. She melts into his hold, and he dissolves the space between them. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and my chest constricts.
I scan the room, searching for something, anything to look at, but my eyes gravitate back like heat-seeking missiles. And holy hell is there heat. It’s practically peeling the paint off the walls. His huge body presses her back, pinning her with his hips. His hands move over her body like he’s memorizing every curve.
I’ve never been kissed like that. Stewart never kissed me at all unless he was between my legs, grunting like a rooting pig. My heart pinches painfully.
“Layla?” Mac’s voice gets my attention.
“Hmm?” I blink a few times and take a long pull of my beer. No longer facing Blake and his female companion, I imagine where they’re at in terms of bases. My guess is second.
Mac’s unique tawny-colored eyes study mine. “You okay?” She motions to her own face but nods toward me. “You went pale.”
I wave her off and swallow the last of my beer. Boy, that went down fast. “Nah, I’m fine.” Although my back feels like it’s on fire from the intensity of what’s going on behind me.
Mac’s eyes move over my shoulder. Her face scrunches up. “Oh, God. Those two need a condom. Fast.”
I blow a slow breath out my mouth. Gosh dammit. What is wrong with me? Why does this hurt so badly? We’re just friends, but the way I’ve respond to the mere thought of him with a girl isn’t healthy. And seeing the eyeball-burning live version is like having my guts ripped out, William Wallace style.
Mac drops another beer down in front of me, and I make quick work of the golden liquid. Anything to keep from turning around. Ataxia starts their first set, and as much as I’d like to watch them, I can’t bring myself to face what might be going on behind me.
“It’s okay. You can turn around now.”
I peek up into sympathetic eyes. We’ve only just met, but I can’t help but feel like she knows more than I’ve told her.
“He’s gone. Left just a minute ago.”
Rolling my lips between my teeth, I wonder if I can ask the question that’s clawing at my skull without giving myself away. “Did he leave alone?”
Her expression softens with what looks like sadness. “No.”
I nod once, twice, three… Oh no, I’m doing the crazy quick nods. The kind I do right before I’m about to cry. This is so stupid. Why on earth would I cry? We aren’t together. Even if there was a possibility of us hooking up, that would be a twelve-degree fuck-up on my end. I’m here to focus on rebuilding my life with my daughter. Not to gallivant around with a guy, albeit a seriously hot guy, from my work. On top of that, there are probably strict rules that discourage interoffice dating. I can’t risk losing my job.
But my eyes still burn as I wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Blake’s attention. I’ve felt only a sliver of what he gave that girl tonight, and I was light headed. Maybe that’s all it is. Not Blake the man, but the way he makes me feel. I’ve never been looked at the way he looks at me. Like I’m some forbidden indulgence he’s been deprived of his whole life.
And if that’s the case, what does that say about me? That I’d be willing to cast aside my future, my plan to rebuild a life for Elle, all because some guy makes me feel wanted. I fist my hands into my hair. Ugh, I’m sicker than I thought.
“Mac, I need a shot of…” I study the bottles. “Whatever you got. Just, make it strong.”
She chews the inside of her mouth, her thoughtful eyes on me. “I’ve got just the thing.” Whirling around, she grabs a bottle.
Within minutes I’ve downed three shots of what I’m pretty sure is some fancy-ass kind of tequila. My head feels light, but my thoughts have turned to dead weight. Dammit.
I blink to focus and suddenly feel suffocated in the crowded bar. Fresh air.
Digging through my wallet for cash, I curse my impulsiveness. Those shots probably cost me a week’s worth of food.
“Layla, no.” Mac shakes her head, dropping a full drink in front of my heavily pierced neighbor at the bar. “It’s on the house.”
Oh, thank God. “Are you sure?”
She smiles, but there’s sadness in her eyes. Great. Now she feels sorry for me. I need to get out of here.
I drop a twenty on the bar and tell Mac goodnight. On my way out, I wave to Rex on stage, and he rewards me with a lip-ringed smile.
Now he’s a nice guy. I’ve been here for two of his shows and have yet to see him all over a girl. It’s possible to practice some self-control.