But I can’t drink away thoughts of Jamie. There’s not enough liquor in all of Mayhem to dull the ache of wanting her. And it seems the more shots I do, the more I crave her. Every part of her—even her darkness.
I know Jamie’s hiding something. I see the secret buried in her eyes. It’s there every time she looks at me. In the guarded way she stares at me when she thinks I’m not watching. Iwillfind out what she’s keeping from me. She may be headstrong, but I’m relentless. And as the day goes on and I get drunker, I grow more determined to chip away at that goddamn wall she lives behind and finally strip her raw because fair is fair.
Jamie saw my ugly.
Now I’m going to see hers.
14
Jamie
“No.”
I lower the pale-yellow dress. “No, what?”
My companion, a beautiful and petite redhead, is a whirlwind of boundless energy. She tilts her head to the side, her wild curls framing a heart-shaped face. When she scrunches her nose and points to the dress, she punctuates her disapproval with a shake of her head.Again.This is the billionth time she’s done that today. “Just no.”
I haul the dress up my body and turn to face the full-length mirror. Mayhem doesn’t have many clothing shops, and the style I’m comfortable wearing are slim pickings at best. “It’s pretty.”
“It is,” she agrees, batting her lashes, her ice-blue eyes wide and innocent. “If you’re ninety.”
“I’m buying it.”
“Fine.” Ava crosses her arms over her perky boobs. “But you’re not wearing it to the barbecue.”
Again, I lower the dress. “Why does it matter if I wear something a bit buttoned up?”
Ava marches over to me, and I lean away when she clamps her hands around my upper arms and gives me a sound shake. In the two hours we’ve been in each other’s company, she’s proved she has no regard for personal space. She’s genuinely affectionate, and for some unfathomable reason, I’m not offput by her constant touching.
It’s actually charming, the way she grabs for my hand whenever she sees something “super cute” or something she thinks will look “awesome” on my “incredible bod.” My automatic response would be to recoil. Instead, I go with it, and I’ve had more fun with her than I’ve had since…God, what…? Ever?
If I could freeze this afternoon and bottle it, I swear, I would, because I know it won’t last.
Nothing good does.
“Girl, with your face and figure, we have to turn you out right. Especially since you’re, like, the new shiny toy.”
“You’re insane, you know that, right?”
Ava tosses her curls, her laughter drawing the attention of the other shoppers. The trio of women cast an envious glance our way. They’re a subtle summer breeze to Ava’s gale wind, and when she blows them a kiss, one of the women turns magenta and ducks her head to go back to picking through the racks.
“They’re not local, poor things.” She nods at the women. “Probably gotta go home and do it all missionary-style with some beta-ass man who couldn’t find a clit if Magellan himself drew him a map.” She brushes against me as she selects the next outfit I have to try on. “Here. If you wear this, all the guys are going to want to play with you.”
First, kudos to Ava for knowing Magellan. To hell with the people who claim Mayhem’s schools are trash.
And second, “I don’t want anyone playing with me.”
Liar.
I want Wraith to play with me becausewow. His mouth. But I have no time to think about what he did to my vagina with his tongue because Ava’s on the move.
“Whatever you say.” She waves her hand through the air, a note of disbelief ripe in her tone as she spins on her heel. The action sends her riot of curls swinging behind her. IfBrave’s Merida came to life, it’d be in the form of Ava Murphy. “Let’s get back to you and this awful dress. We don’t know each other too good yet, but trust me, sis, I won’t steer you wrong. You don’t want to show up at Sanctum in this thing. And why would you want to? You’re young. Gorgeous. You’re going to have the men eating out of your hand.”
I’d like to have Wraith eating out of my hand, thank you very much.
After Wraith introduced me to the wonderful world of the orgasm, we’ve done plenty of kissing. Lots of touching. Tons of cuddling. But it always ends there. Like he’s retreated into himself. Holding back hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been respectful of his space because I understand what he’s suffering even if it’s gone unspoken. Truth is, though, I want to jump that man’s bones so bad, it’s taken everything I’ve got to keep my hands to myself.
“I don’t like drawing attention to myself.”
