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Fuck no. No, it wasn’t safer. Safer would be making her mine and kissing her, then scooping her up in my arms, taking her home and putting her in my bed, and then waking up to her in the morning. Kite was right. If we went home together, I’d fuck her if she’d let me. “Yeah. Whatever you want, Haven.”
Because that was what it came down to. What she wanted.
I’d been good. Fuck, I’d been an angel, but the angel was losing its fight against the devil who wanted to kiss her. Take her. Make her mine. But I was determined that she had to come to me. Her past was too screwed up to have it any other way. She may not have told me what happened, but we all knew it was really fuckin’ bad.
She was looking at me with parted lips, eyes a little droopy and if I pressed in a little closer, our lips would touch. Her warm breath drifted across my face like a sweet caress and I automatically leaned in closer.
Her breath hitched.
I felt it. Heard it.
“What’s your real name?”
“Vincent.”
“Are you going to kiss me, Vincent?” she whispered.
Holy fuckin’ Christ. Her saying my name, my real name, was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. No chick I’d been with knew my real name. Never gave it to them and they never asked because they liked knowing they were fucking Crisis from Tear Asunder. “Do you want me to?”
“Haven?” And of course, Mr. fuckin’ Lacrosse has to come out the door looking dapper in his dark snug blue jeans and pale pink dress shirt. “You ready to go home? I can call a cab.”
Keep your mouth shut. But I had a mouth that liked to run even when I knew it was a bad idea. “You’re not welcome back at our place tonight.”
Lac held up his hands. “Crisis, man, I’m not like that. It’s not like that. She already told me she doesn’t want to date.”
And he had to be a good guy unlike me who took pussy whenever I could get it up, until Haven walked into my life. Jesus. I shoved away from the wall.
“Hi, Lac,” Haven said, as if just noticing him.
“Hey, sweetie. Just came to make sure you’re okay. You had a few.”
Sweetie? What the fuck was that? Since when did she become sweetie? “You think I wouldn’t look after her?” I exploded.
Lac paled. “No! I wasn’t saying that.”
“Crisis.” Kite’s tone was abrupt. “Roman will wait downstairs for Haven.” He briefly touched her arm. “You hear me? Roman is downstairs. Take the car home.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
I hated leaving her here. I hated leaving her drunk with Mr. Fuckin’-Ass-Kisser who was calling my girl sweetie. But I had no choice. Well, I could throw her over my shoulder and take her home. Kite, would kick my ass or at least try to, and Haven . . . yeah, I wasn’t pushing her tonight and ruining our chances.
“Make sure she gets to the car,” I said and stepped back, my stomach churning like a rusted propeller.
Lac nodded and put his hand on the small of her back.
I knew it was to steady her because she was drunk, but the roar inside was detonating. Kite saw it and put his hand on my shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I asked Kite as I watched her walk away.
“Same thing that’s wrong with Logan and Ream.”
Yeah, I loved her. But I couldn’t do anything about it until she made a move and it was killing me.
Haven was half-way down the hall when she spun around and walked back to me, swaying a bit, but not bad enough to warrant me insisting on taking her home. My breath locked down in my chest as she moved into me and placed her palms on my chest.
“Thanks. For coming tonight.” She paused and her brow furrowed. “Not just for tonight . . . for everything.” She paused then dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “You were right. I do like you . . . A lot.”
I closed my eyes and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah.” That was the only word I could get out.
Her hand slipped away and I watched her walk down the hall until she disappeared behind the door. It was as if a fist slammed into my ribcage and broke through, yanking out my heart then stomping on it with both feet until it burst and became a pancake.
There was something between us that was special as hell, but it had to be her letting me in, not me letting myself in. And the only way I could push her to make a move was to step back.
Kite slapped me on the back. “Let’s go to Avalanche.”
I RAN TO the washroom, fell to my knees and hung my head over the toilet. It was two in the morning. I’d been home for an hour and this was my third rush to the bathroom. My head was a time bomb with a constant tapping that refused to go away.
After dry heaving, because after three times there was nothing left to throw up, I crawled to my feet, grabbed my toothbrush and piled on the minty fresh toothpaste for the fourth time. I never drank. I’d seen enough drunken assholes to never want to lose control of myself that way and yet tonight I did.
But I was trying to erase him—Crisis. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a building, tipped forward about to lose my balance. With the slightest breeze, I was going to fall and never be able to come back from that.
My stomach rolled and I fell to my knees, head over the toilet again.
I was spitting into the porcelain bowl when a hand reached across and flushed. I jerked and looked up to see Crisis standing beside me. He scooped my hair back, his fingers trailing over the back of my neck. He held out a glass of water. I gratefully took it and sloshed it around in my mouth then spit again.
