AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"See, this is what I mean." I crunch down on a piece of ice, then raise my soup bowl—I mean, my margarita glass—in her direction. "The way the two of you snipe at each other, then steal glances when the other is not looking, it’s clear there’s this entire sexual attraction thing going on—"
Zara makes a gagging sound. "Please! I wouldn’t sleep with him if he were the last man on Earth."
"You talking about me?"
Both Z and I pivot in the direction of the voice.
Hunter leans a hip against the door, his gaze on Zara. Next to him, Liam stands with a hand in his pocket. He’s taken off his jacket, and his shirt sleeves are rolled up. I glimpse his veiny forearms and my core throbs. What is it about his veiny forearms that I find so irresistible?
His gaze holds mine. The air seems to grow dense. In the distance, lightning flashes. At some point, the sun dipped behind the horizon, and one of Liam’s staff came around and lit the candles. The flickering light illuminates the hollows under his cheekbones and lends a blue hue to his already dark hair. Those gray eyes of his seem almost silver. Like clear mirrors of emotions. Fluid, yet secretive. Like fireflies spark below their surface.
Meanwhile, the standoff between Hunter and Zara continues. Hunter’s jaw tics. Zara leans back in her chair and drains her glass. She holds it out and gestures to the half-full pitcher of margarita by her side. Hunter’s gaze narrows. His shoulders bunch. He seems like he’s about to say something, then changes his mind. He crosses over, picks up the jug and motions it in my direction. "Would you like some more?"
"Umm, no, thank you." I rise to my feet and sway. The only reason I don’t fall is Liam’s appearance next to me. He swings me up in his arms.
"Hey, what are you doing?" At least, that’s what I think I say. I can’t confirm that, to be honest, because the numbness that started at my extremities has now spread to include the rest of me. It feels like I’m floating away on a soft cloud, tethered to the earth by firm arms. Firm, muscled arms, the muscles flexing against me as he carries me out of the terrace, through the adjoining room, and up the stairs. He carries me like I weigh nothing, which I know is not true, for I’ve weighed myself and my scales don’t lie.
I turn my face into the wall of his chest. I can feel the solid planes of his torso digging into my skin. He’s so damn tough, I could hurt myself. Correction, I’ve already hurt myself. I allowed myself to sleep with him, and now he’s under my skin. I’m pathetic, really. Okay... So maybe not ‘sleep’ in the strict sense of the word, but he fucked me in ways that make forgetting him impossible. He takes the steps two at a time, and his heartbeat stays even. Jeez, how much does this guy work out? More to the point, when does he work out? Every time I see him, he’s either too busy being pissed at me, or he’s running his empire.
"In the early morning." His voice vibrates up his chest.
Apparently, I asked the question out loud.
"It shows." I curl my fingers about his biceps and squeeze.
When he lowers me to the bed, I look around. "I’m not going to sleep in your room."
I sit up, and the room instantly swims. "Oh shoot." I sink back onto the bed and squeeze my eyes shut.
"Relax," his voice wafts over me, "I can go one night without touching you."
25
Liam
I lied.
I can’t go the night without touching her. I can’t let her fall asleep in her clothes. I slip off her heels, then manage to get the dress off of her. I lay it over the chair, then pull the covers over her. I can’t resist pressing a kiss to her forehead, then lay on the bed next to her, above the covers. I turn on my side and watch her sleep. Her cheeks are flushed... Her lips slightly parted... She has a hand tucked under her cheek and her breathing is even. It takes me what feels like hours to fall asleep, despite the whiskey kicking about in my system.
The dreams come then—first the low banging, then the vibrations grow in intensity. Thump-thump-thump. The beats grow bigger, heavier, faster. Each strike seems to cut through my head, through my blood. My nerve endings seem to short-circuit. My brain cells protest. The backs of my eyeballs hurt. My scalp feels too tight. A cold sensation grips my arms and legs. I stare into the eyes of the bastard, which is the only part of him visible in the mask he’s wearing.
"I’m going to teach you a lesson for sticking your nose where you don’t belong. You shouldn’t have come looking for your brother, boy. Now I’m going to have to teach you a lesson."
He backhands me, and even though I’m braced for it, my entire body seems to seize with pain. Blood trickles from my nose. My teeth ache. The pounding of the death metal music grows even more intense. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. The beats seem to ricochet around my brain. The pressure builds in my chest; the heaviness grows in my stomach until it feels like I’ve swallowed a stone. And the agony, the white-hot, skin-flaying agony grips me, pours into my cells, fills every crevice of my body until I’m one giant ball of misery. It feels like someone has pulled the nails out of my fingers one by one and thrown salt in my wound. I begin to cry, huge gasping tears that pour down my cheeks. It hurts; it hurts so much. I can’t stand this noise. Someone turn off the music, please. Please. I’ll do anything. Anything. I can’t take this anymore. Please.
"Liam!"
I can’t. I’m going to die if I stay here for a second more.
"Liam!" Cold water splashes across my face. I gasp, open my eyes, and find her staring down at me.
"Liam, are you okay?" she cries.
I blink the water from my eyes, take in her pale features. Her lips are parted. Her chest rises and falls as if she just ran a marathon. Or witnessed a man losing his mind. In one swoop I grab her shoulder and flip her so she’s under me. The empty glass—the contents of which I assume she poured on me—slips from her fingers and rolls off the bed and onto the carpet with a soft thunk.
"Liam?" She cups my cheek and I wince.
"What is it?" she asks. "What happened to you?"
