We’re watching the same thing, right?
“Let’s get out of here, man. How long has it been since we just went somewhere?” Kansas moves to stand, dusting the back of his jeans with his hands. “Let’s go to Lacey’s.”
My gaze isn’t on him. It’s locked on Raven as she stretches, a slow, feline arch of her back. Her head rolls, a hand coming up to cup the curve of her shoulder. A faint wince tightens the corner of her mouth. Is she hurt? Did she strain something? A list of concerns starts blaring in my mind.
A swift kick comes to my thigh for my silence. My upper lip curls into a snarl. “I don’t want to go to the fucking strip club, okay?”
The words are out, jagged and too loud, before I can sand them down. Kansas lifts his hands, eyes wide. Fuck, I am too. The sharp edge in my own voice surprises me. This isn’t me.
Raven looks over, utterly unimpressed. Our eyes meet—the first time in what, two days?—before she dismisses me entirely. She turns to Killer, helping him to his feet. Her fingers work at the straps of his gloves, a careful, intimate familiarity in themotion. Then her hand settles on his bare arm, right where she’d kicked him earlier. Checking. Soothing.
Killer smiles down at her, nodding at something she says, and something in my gut wrenches.
There’s a sharp pain inside of my body caused by something less physical. Jealousy? The word feels foreign, like trying on someone else’s skin. I don’t do jealousy. I take what I want, or I walk away. Simple.
I tell myself it’s just a dry spell. That the memory of her that night by the lake—her giving me a side of her I’m sure no one has seen before—has just messed with my head.
She messed with itbadly.
I’m not even sure I’d be able to get it up for any of the women floating around the club at night. That’s how fucked I am.
Watching her touch another man twists something inside of me. It makes it hard to believe I’m just lusting for another round with her. Sex wouldn’t fix this. Sex would make it worse. I can’t handle worse. I’m already at my wits’ end.
“Dude.” Kansas shifts his weight, reading the emotions coiling on my face. “We could… I don’t know, go for a ride. You just… You seem like you’ve got a stick up your ass lately. Let’s enjoy the freedom we have now.”
He’s right. I force my eyes away from them, from the easy way her thumb strokes Killer’s arm. The movement is casual, but I’m going to be wondering if he’s going to try anything out of misunderstanding.
She’s not yours to begin with, asshole. Killer can try if he wants.
“Sorry. Yeah,” I mutter, pushing to my feet. Shaking my head, I try to find a happy middle so I can calm down. “Just… fresh air.”
What I really need is distance. Enough to get away from the woman who has become a constant, frustrating contradiction in my head.
10
Raven
I want to throw up. No, I want to dig my eyes out and plug my ears with them.
There is nothing more gross than witnessing my sister making out with Judge. At one end of the bar, the two of them are lost in their own world. Neither cares about what kind of audience they may bring in.
Right now, I think I’m the only one who has noticed the two of them orbiting each other.
A harsh, metallic taste floods my mouth. I swallow it down, forcing my gaze away from the way his hand cradles the back of her neck and makes her sigh just right.Gross.
My stomach clenches, a tight fist of pure disgust and, worse,jealousy. Not because of Judge, but because of this thing they’re sharing.
A happiness I thought I had the chance of obtaining myself.
Man, what happened to my sweet, innocent sister? The one who’d get all red at just the mention of PDA?
Now, she’s the one making a public spectacle. Lately, both he and Ripper have been trekking back and forth to Meadow Falls to manage the charter there. He’s just doing his job. But every return is a performance. A reunion that always ends with these two entangling themselves.
They act like they’ve been apart for weeks instead of days. A low, possessive murmur from him, a breathless laugh from her. The sounds are like insects skittering under my skin. I tell myself it’s revulsion. It has to be.
My frowns can’t be blamed on my sister’s happiness. I can’t deny the longing I feel for the very same.
Now that I’ve had a taste, I want it, too. Badly.
