Chapter 5
I watch him walk off into the darkness and want to follow him.
The tension between him and Silas was something I’ve never seen before.
Two men are well over six feet and heavily muscled.
Silas has always been intense, borderline antisocial, with dark, sadness-filled eyes.
I’ve grown accustomed to his gruffness. For a long time, I couldn’t understand my extroverted brother’s friendship with the reclusive boy who was being raised by his grandmother.
And now there’s another man with whom Jace is friends who feels even more distant and antagonistic. He does not like me; that much is clear.
Not that I expect men to fawn all over me.
Yes, it happens because of my wealth, but I can tell when it’s artificial and grasping.
I’ve been around those types of men all my life.
Sons of my father’s friends who want to get close to me because it benefits them to do so, or because they feel obligated due to our parents’ association.
But the look he gave me across the pool wasn’t because of who I was.
It was the look a man gives a woman he wants to have sex with.
I’ve seen it countless times before, but it’s the first time I wanted to give it back.
The first time, I wanted to meet the challenge and have sex for sex.
I still can’t stop thinking about what happened in the bathroom.
The moment I barged in and practically fell into Stone’s chest. The sight of his wet face, the drops of water falling off his lip.
The silver hoop at the bottom. The way he held onto my hips, digging his fingers into my muscles, bringing me close enough that I could see the small heart tattoo under his eye, that I missed when he was wearing his shades.
I catalogued every centimeter of his face.
His scar. The skulls and designs on his neck.
The two gray hairs in one eyebrow. The dark scruff on his jaw and cheek.
He smelled like my soap and him--a mix of smoke and something sweet.
The three men of my past never smelled like that, and even now, I remember the way my body reacted.
My nipples felt tighter, and that heaviness was in my lower tummy. The one I get when I masturbate.
His black eyes lowered to my mouth, and I swore he was going to kiss me, and lewd thoughts barreled through my brain, of him kissing me, eating at my mouth while he lifted me and pushed me against the wall, pulling my bathing suit bottoms to the side.
Squeezing my legs together, the earlier fantasy comes back.
Of him fingering me, before he hoisted me up, propping me on the sink the same way the main character in my last romance book did.
I pictured us fucking, me holding onto his back while he fucking me.
Maybe even holding his hand over my mouth so I didn’t make a noise.
Then he would cum inside me and force me to walk outside with his ejaculate dripping out of me.
There was something in his eyes, something I didn’t, couldn’t understand.
Whatever it was, it made me feel scorched, on fire to have sex with a man I just met.
But instead of a sexy bathroom moment, he thrust me away from him like I had leprosy, scowling and curling the lips I wanted to be pressed against mine.
And did he say I called him a thief? His question was mocking.
Clearly, he thought of me as some sort of rich bitch, and I was embarrassed that he might have thought of me that way.
When he scanned my body contemptuously, I felt dismissed, tongue-tied.
I hauled ass and ran to the kitchen, pushing my face into the freezer, hoping to cool off my libido and irritation.
I grabbed the plate of fruit I brought, hoping to hurry back outside and avoid him, only to see him again moments later.
We stood watching each other until he turned away and walked back outside, not saying one word to me.
Now, I listen to the sound of his bike in the distance, which makes me wonder where he’s going. Where does he live? And I shouldn’t care. He obviously finds me lacking, and I need to stop thinking about him.
So after he walked out, taking his sex appeal with him, I hauled up stairs and into the bathroom he just vacated.
I leaned against the wall, still smelling him.
The ash from the cigarette he smoked before.
I used the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat, shaky and horny.
When I cleaned myself up, I touched my pussy and discovered I was slick, swollen, and more turned on than I had a right to be, considering that he walked away from me.
Getting up, I turned on the water and froze when I saw the chunky silver ring sitting on the shallow edge of the porcelain sink, glass sink.
His ring.
My fingers touched the cold, smooth metal.
I examined it closely. Two snakes wrap around a skull, their bodies surrounded by bones.
There were some red and yellow bits and pieces in the ring, and I rinsed it, picking out the dried brownish flecks.
It looked like dried paint, and I wonder if he does other art besides tattooing.
I slid it on each finger, testing its fit, and the only one it somewhat fit on was my thumb. It felt strangely good on my finger.
Don’t ask me why I went to the guest room I use at Jace’s house and found an old pair of shorts I left behind from some summer long ago.
Don’t ask me why I pulled on those cut-off jeans and stuffed his ring in the pocket.
Don’t ask me why I didn’t walk back outside and tell him I found his ring.
Don’t ask me why I pushed my hand in my pocket and fingered his ring, twirling it in my pocket like Bilbo did in The Hobbit, seeking comfort from it.
I intend to take it with me when I leave.
Don’t ask me why, because I have no fucking clue why I’m stealing his ring.
Especially not after I came outside to find him sitting next to Dru on one of the low pool loungers.
It bothered me. I bit my tongue, schooling my facial features, refusing to show how much it bothered me that one of my new friends was cozying up next to him.
My feet were rooted to the ground when I saw how much Stone was clearly into her, and honestly, I could see him with Dru.
Yeah, she’s dating Silas or whatever the fuck they’re doing, but who knows what will happen.
Something very well could because he had no issues touching her arm.
I turned away and sat on one of the loungers, pushing back on my sunglasses even though the bright sunshine was long gone. I was jealous of my friend, enraged that he’d had no problem smiling with her when I got scowls.
The sound of Sophia shouting has me looking up.
Silas is dragging Dru up the hill into the house, and she’s putting up a fight, telling him to let her go.
My brother is trying to hold Sophia back, and she pushes against his arm, cursing him loudly in Spanish.
Whatever she’s saying doesn’t sound complimentary.
Too bad I didn’t study Spanish. It sounds like a tongue lashing, but my brother just smiles, pulling her closer.
“You’re an asshole!” Dru yells, yanking on Silas’s hand.
“Yes. I am.” Silas nods.
There’s no apology behind his words, and I raise my eyebrows.
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him speak in such a tortured way.
He looks ready to kill, and again I wonder what he fuck is happening between them.
His hold on her arm is not how you hold your employee.
He leans down to Dru, whispering in her ear.
Eventually, she goes with him into the house.
Sophia keeps cursing and shoving my brother back. “Keep your hands to yourself, Park! Men need permission to touch me.”
I don’t listen to his response, suddenly exhausted. Between their bickering all day, the intensity with Dru and Silas, and my nuclear implosion around Stone, I’m drained.
“Fifty bucks says they are going to end up fucking.”
Jacks grins, chugging on a bottle of water.”
“That’s an easy bet to win,” Sloane Alexander, the new CFO of Silas’s company, responds, lifting his own bottle of water. Everyone laughs, but I can’t help but think about what Dru and Silas may be doing, envious of them.
When they return 15 minutes later, Dru looks wrecked, her hair a mess. Silas looks sweaty and very relaxed. I grin, giggling when Jace shouts, “Did you two fuck in my bathroom!?”
Everyone is quiet, then Jace squeaks, “Not in my goddamn bed!? Those sheets have a 1,000 thread count!”
Silas and Dru don’t answer, but I see Dru’s blush. Jace groans, shaking his head. “Dammit! I hope you at least cleaned up!”
“Will your car make it back?” Jace leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms. His BBQ is long over, guests gone, and it’s just the two of us.
I wince. The engine of my Beetle has been rattling for the last month. I remind myself that I need to get the engine checked out. I can still hear Kingsley’s scolding lecture about my car.
“I get it, babe. You want to stick it to dear old dad, but this is nuts. You’re driving around a death trap of a car when you could easily buy a brand new one. You’re going to stop in the middle of the highway one day.”
King was right, but I liked my vintage 1960s Volkswagen Beetle.
The mint green color was so cute. Yes, the engine needs work, but I haven’t had time to research someone who could fix it.
I am determined to live on my own terms, and if that means that I have a shitty car, that is preferable to being chauffeured around and waited on.
“Yeah. I think so. She still has some life in her.”
“You need to dump that piece of shit car, Camryn. Buy something new.”