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She finally looks up at me, really looks, and blinks. “What are you doing here?”
I jab a thumb toward where Phoenix is changing in her bedroom. “We’re going out clubbing.”
She frowns. “Why on earth would you do that?”
I don’t want to lie to her, especially knowing that in spite of what Phoenix thinks, we could use her help. But I respect Phoenix’s wishes and whatever’s going on between them. I might not know much, but from the little Phoenix has told me, being best friends for as long as they have isn’t always a smooth road.
“Haven’t you heard?” I smile. “We’re on our honeymoon.”
Sabra rolls her eyes and goes back to her chalking. “It’s about time. You two have been eye-fucking each other since the first day I found you two shacked up in that cabin together.”
“What?” I cough out. “I don’t know what you’re—”
Thankfully Phoenix opens her door then, saving me from having to reply to Sabra’s completely off-base comment.
But then I really get a good look at Phoenix and all but swallow my tongue for a completely different reason. Her hair is sleeked back, and she’s wearing a slinky black and silver dress with smoky eye makeup… The hunger inside me roars.
“Told you so,” Sabra sing-songs.
I hop up off the couch and ask, “Ready?” about an octave higher than my normal voice as I hold out an arm for her to take. Touch. I want to touch her so badly. Phoenix ignores my arm and stomps in front of me out the door and down the stairs, which has Sabra chuckling. “Oh my god, tell me she’s not still blue-balling you?”
That doesn’t dignify a reply, so I ignore her and head after Phoenix. I want to talk to her and maybe make a game plan before we get to the club, but she just throws a leg over her motorcycle and gestures for me to get on behind her.
It’s hard not to look at the acre of exposed thigh as I climb on. But I can still feel her warmth as the smooth denim of my jeans nestles against her outer thighs, and I wrap my arms around her waist. Touuuuuuch. The hungering beast inside me rumbles in satisfaction at the pressure of her in my arms, but only for a moment before a craving for more is like a drumbeat inside my head. I grind my teeth against it. It feels too good to be wrapped around her like this.
If she thinks anything similar, I have no idea because she just immediately takes off. If I thought the car was bad, it’s nothing to the way the bike zips and zooms through traffic. At least it’s both an excuse to hold as tight to her as I like and a distraction from the monster in my belly that craves more.
Still, by the time we get to the club, I leap off the damn death trap. “Why the fuck do you ride this thing?”
She laughs in my face. “What does it matter? We’re immortal. It’s exhilarating to have the wind in my hair.”
I get now why she slicked it back so much. She ruffles her fingers through it. With it wild and wind-swept like that, it looks like she just had sex. Dammit, I don’t need to be having thoughts like that.
“You look good,” I say in a gruff tone.
“Oh?” Her eyebrows rise like I’ve genuinely surprised her, one hand still in her hair. It catches on one of her rings, and pink colors her cheeks as she tries to yank it out, only getting it caught more.
“Here,” I say, reaching over and helping her untangle it.
Her big blue eyes come my way, and it’s like she’s holding her breath, which is when I realize how close I’m standing to her. I try not to let it—or her dizzying perfume and tight dress—affect me. “There,” I say as I get her hand free, my voice suddenly deeper.
“Thanks,” she says and then spins away. “Come on, we don’t want to miss her if she’s here.”
Oh right. We’re here on a mission, not a date. Besides, we’re married already. No need to date if you’re already married. Not that it’s that kind of marriage. I shake my head, trying to make all the stupid thoughts shake loose.
Time to get in the game, jackhole.
“So what are we looking for, exactly?” I whisper to Phoenix as we approach the bouncer. There’s only a small line outside the club, and we take our spot at the back.
“Anything out of the ordinary. Any woman who looks like she’s on the prowl or leading a guy out of there.”
I look around. Most folks are already paired up. “Night like this, that might be hard to tell.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m sure we’ll know it when we see it.”
Skeptical, I nod anyway. I can’t be mad about getting to spend my Friday night dressed up with Phoenix at a swanky downtown club. Even if we are spirit-hunting.
“You go in and flirt with anything that moves,” she says, “and we’ll see if we can get any hooks on the line.”
