Chapter 2 #3
“Where are you going? Has Harley seen that yet? What am I even saying? Of course he hasn’t, because there’s no way you’ll be going out tonight once he does.”
Rolling my eyes with a grin, I shake my head at her antics.
“You really think he’s going to lose his head over this?
I’m just finishing my last job; you can’t go to the docks without showing some skin.
Harley knows the score, he’ll be fine. Honestly, this is nothing compared to what some of the other girls wear down there. ”
Avery smirks at me and still manages to look like an evil queen while wearing her fluffy Chanel robe.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll have a lot more to say on the subject than you think, Mounty.
Ash just took a call from him so you should be prepared for them both to throw a fit…
or to take advantage of modern advancement by attempting a long-distance three-way via video call. ”
My cheeks heat even as I scoff at her, twirling on the spot one last time to make sure the tape holds and get a feel of how much movement I still have.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Aves; the outfit is good. That’s all I needed to hear.
Save your hype-girl energy for when we’re back at school and I’m elbow deep in hot, filthy rich girls desperate for the three of them.
I’m sure I’ll get in my feelings over how little I can compare at some point. ”
I’m joking, mostly, especially after my conversation with Harley, but I’ve been trying to learn how to be a good friend and Avery has grumbled at me more than once for not leaning on her.
Emotionally. Jesus fuck, I’ve barely come around to acknowledging I have feelings, so being able to speak about them is almost impossible.
Still, I’d do anything for that girl, so I try.
Typically, Avery eyes me with that searing and clinically assessing look of hers before she cackles down the phone at me, teasing in a sing-song voice that would be cutting if it wasn’t drenched in affection. “Would you look at that, Mounty? You are human, after all.”
I grimace, but she rolls her eyes at me before I can overthink it too much.
“We finally found something you’re not good at, which is seeing how utterly obsessed those idiot boys are with you because you could walk out of that bathroom in a trash bag and they’d be falling over themselves to get their hands on you.
Together, separately, all-at-once, one-after-the-other; it doesn’t matter.
However they can have you, they want you.
So don’t second guess yourself, or how hot you are.
You should even have a little fun with it, Lips. ”
Any reply I could have is lodged in my throat, and when I nod, absently, I’m once again struck by the realization that, more than anyone else I’ve ever met, Avery Beaumont can read me like a book.
The soft smile she was giving me, an obvious but heartfelt coddling, only lasts for a second as her words sink in, before it sharpens into her signature ice-cold smirk that she wields like the weapon it is.
“You’re the Wolf of Mounts Bay; make them beg.”
Chuckling as I end the call, I look over my outfit one last time and try to see whatever the hell it is that she was seeing, but all I find staring back at me is the little broken girl from the Bay.
Okay, fine, I know my tits look amazing and I spent a long time learning how to do my makeup to blend into the crowd so, objectively, I know I’m attractive enough.
I guess I’ve just never thought about myself in that way before.
Probably because I was trying my best to not attract anyone, so now I’m scrambling trying to figure out how the absolute fuck to… god, I don’t even know what.
Shoving that mental clusterfuck out of my head for the night, I flounce out of the bathroom and stand in front of the full-length mirror in the living room.
There’s only one real way to be sure the tape will hold, so I dance around and shake my butt to check that it’s secure.
When nothing budges, I throw in a slut drop for good measure.
A strangled sort of noise from behind me startles me, before it quickly devolves into a choking cough.
Harley is sitting at the breakfast bar looking fucking devastating in his dark jeans and tight white shirt.
His mom’s necklace catches in the light, his tattooed jawline defined as his head tips back a little, and, my god, there’s something about that broad set of shoulders of his that just gets me going.
My breath catches in my chest for a second, my heart stuttering only to thump violently when I see the possessive, predatory look in his eyes as he watches me.
Glancing away from him before I’m the one to beg, my gaze lands on his laptop which is still on the table, but the screen has been turned around so Ash and Blaise can see my outfit. Ah. They’ve just been watching me dance Mounty-style. Oops.
Blushing like an idiot, I give them a little awkward wave, but they’re too busy gaping at me to notice.
“Fuck. Pick something else to wear,” Blaise finally chokes out, and Ash snorts at him.
“If you start with that shit, it’ll only come back to bite us all in the ass. You remember the last outfit we saw her in at the docks, right?”
Blaise replies with a smothered groan, a look of shared torment on both of their faces, and I swallow painfully, my mouth is practically a desert at this point.
Harley rubs the back of his neck and grumbles, “You think that one was bad, you didn’t see those fucking booty shorts.
The photos didn’t do them justice. This is tame in comparison, but I’d still prefer it if you wore a bra.
Fuck, this can only end in bloodshed. One of you two will pay my bail, right? ”
Ash nods absently, his eyes like a brand on my skin as he picks me over before he waves a hand at me. “Do another one of those squat things. Slowly.”
My blush only deepens as I laugh at him, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells me he’s dead serious and, well, what’s a little reckless fun?
Better to do it now and get it out of my system than to risk anything happening at the party.
I duck back into the bedroom to grab my phone, flicking through the songs until I find something with a decent beat.
Harley smirks when I step back out and start the song, leaning back like he’s getting ready for the show of a lifetime.
Not only was he born and bred in the Bay, but we’ve danced together before, so he knows what’s coming.
The other two haven’t, and I doubt they know much about how Mounties get down.
“No filming,” I warn him sternly, and he holds up his hands in a mock surrender.
It feels kind of strange to dance by myself, with three sets of eyes on me, but I’ve spent countless summers at a party of some kind, working and making connections to get me free of the traps surrounding me.
I’m not sure if it’s that constant exposure alone, but music now lives in my soul.
I shut my eyes and just let myself move instinctively, not trying to be sexy or seductive, but knowing that to prim rich kids, the Mounty-style will look fucking erotic.
When the song finishes, I glance up and Harley is fucking sweating.
Damn, does that make me feel good.
Blaise is also gaping at me, his mouth hanging open like he’s never seen me before.
Well, no, there’s an edge to it that’s way too obsessed for that to be true.
More like he’s just had his biggest fantasy, that he didn’t even know about, fulfilled by me in front of him and his brain is now leaking out of his ears.
I know the feeling well, so I can spot it easily.
Ash is staring me down with a look so intense, it’s almost too much for me.
Fuck, he looks ready to drive down here and eat me alive.
I don’t want to admit how badly I want that, how much I miss him and how desperately I crave that heat of his.
I shiver in anticipation instinctively, my nipples tightening and only the thick silicone of the stick-on covers stops them from being on display.
Harley’s eyes darken dangerously as my thighs rub together and I start to rethink our plans for the night because I need him more than I need air—
The knock at the door freezes me in place.
Harley breaks our eye contact as Ash swears viciously, his head snapping around on his shoulders as he scowls at the door.
I bend at the waist as I stalk over, motioning for the two on the video call to stay quiet.
My feet are silent, and there’s no cover on the peephole to give me away, but the moment I see the giant mass of tattooed muscle and silvery-blond hair standing on the doorstep, I let out a sigh so long it must’ve come from the depths of my soul.
God help me.
Harley is going to have a fucking aneurysm.
With a groan, I unlock the door before I chicken out. Before I open it, I meet Harley’s gaze over my shoulder and say, as calmly as I can, “I know you disagree with me, but I swear to you, he’s a good guy. I trust him. Just stay calm and hear him out. It must be important if he’s here.”
And then Johnny Illium, the Butcher of the Bay, or just plain Illi to me, sweeps me into a bone-crushing hug.
It takes a whole lot of restraint not to punch the ass in the ribs for it, or stick my knife between them, but he doesn’t seem to notice my efforts at all.
I do not care that he’s the most notorious cage fighter and enforcer-for-hire amongst the Twelve; I don’t do hugs.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get off me,” I gasp out, and he grunts at me.