Page 240

She watched the party unfold around her while Trevan watched her nonstop.

Hawklike.

Keen eyes and rigid muscle.

She liked it. Liked the attention. The feel of the heat of his body.

She sipped at her beer and let the warmth invade. Imagined it was Trevan who was invading.

She sank into the mood as a ton of Silas and Trevan’s friends came over to wish her happy birthday. They were nicer than she imagined, though a couple uttered salacious things that made heat blister in her belly.

Silas and Trevan both shot them daggers that might as well have been literal with the way it sent them running.

But what she wasn’t prepared for was when a woman waltzed up and planted herself directly onto Trevan’s lap. Shifted and straddled him on the chair where he sat.

“Felicity,” he groaned, and Elena couldn’t tell if he was trying to push her off or draw her closer. “It’s not the time.”

“It’s always the time with you,” she whispered, though loud enough that Elena could hear.

Elena wanted to shrink away and disappear into the floor.

Become nothing.

Or better yet, die.

That sounded like a way better plan.

Especially when the woman slipped off his lap and got to her knees. Her fingers went to the button of his jeans.

Only his hand darted out and snatched her around the wrist. “Told you, not tonight.”

She pouted and cast a sneer at Elena, no question picking up on the fact that Elena was the reason Trevan was rejecting her.

But he might as well have done it.

Might as well have had her right out in the open like the others.

Because it was Elena who felt the sharp sting of his rejection.

He didn’t even have to say a word to deliver it.

Elena clung to Trevan. The night whipped across her face and her heart barely beat. Fractured and racing. She didn’t know how it was possible.

Silas needed to see to MC matters and Trevan offered to take her home. She guessed he’d taken pity on her since it was clear she wasn’t having any fun anyway.

He pulled up in front of their house, and she slid off and undid the strap to her helmet as she fumbled for the front door.

Numb but close to cracking.

Trevan killed his motorcycle, the light cutting off.

“What’s wrong, Elena?”

He nearly begged it when he rushed up behind her.

“Nothing,” she mumbled as she put her key into the lock.

She felt him itch behind her, rough those big fingers through his hair.