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Damn.
My pants tighten.
Barclay whistles at Shanel. “You look... satisfied.”
“Do I?” Shanel cups her cheek, innocently sorting through his words.
I chuckle.
“She always looked that fine?” Barclay asks Fitz.
The chuckle turns into a growl.
Barclay grins at me. “Your girl’s hot, bro. It’s a compliment.”
“Have some respect.”
“Relax, Hawk.” Shanel rolls her eyes at me and then takes a seat at the table like she belongs there. Leaning over, she speaks to Barclay and Fitz. “What’s going on? Why did you guys rush over here?”
For a second, no one speaks. We just stare at her, moved by the sunlight’s caress of her cheek, the curl that pops out just so on her neck, the curve of her brown lips.
Shanel’s beauty is alluring.
How could we not be affected?
She squirms. “Hello?”
As she moves, another curl pops out of her bun and lies against her cheek. My fingers itch to brush it away. To feel my knuckles against her soft flesh. To peel back her thoughts. Get inside her head the same way I got inside that tight little body and figure out what makes her tick.
What are you thinking, Speedy?
“Hawk made a mess,” Fitz says finally.
I turn my attention on him. “What did I do?”
“You went crazy on Miles.”
“I didn’t touch him.”
“You had your guards hold him down while you barged into his house.”
“Yes, but I didn’t touch him.” I wave my hand. “There’s a difference.”
“No, there’s not,” Shanel argues.
I eye her over the table.
Barclay laughs. “She’s right.”
“Why did you mess with Miles?” Shanel asks.
“I thought he was holding you hostage.”
“What?”
“I had no other choice.”
Fitz frowns. “Who gave you that intel?”
