Instinct hollers at me to tap out, but desire shuts it right up.
I let my gaze take another lazy loop around her stunning body, starting at her copper boots and moving upward, over her exquisitely muscled legs to the long fringes cascading from a tiny, tight suede dress that shines like burnt velvet against her tanned skin. The hemline and plunging neckline are so indecent that I mentally eliminate every straight man who’s had the privilege of seeing her wear it.
I might not be able to predict much, but of one thing I’m certain—if I survive this mission, there’ll be no forgetting Electra Serran. I’ll measure every woman to her, and they’ll all fall short. How can anyone compete with supernatural perfection?
Noise finally returns to my eardrums. Over the country tunes blasting from the speakers, I hear Suze ask, “The stripper’s with her? Well, shit…”
“Cillian’s not the stripper, Suze,” Jeneva hisses back. “The stripper’s coming later. After dinner.”
“He better be as hot.” Suze’s opinion should be enough to tell me I don’t look half bad, but I’m waiting for Electra to weigh in.
As I unhurriedly stroll over, I try to glean what she thinks of my getup. Does she find my open denim shirt, tight jeans, chaps, and cowboy hat ridiculous or sexy?
Electra tips her head back when I finally stand in front of her. I like that I’m taller, that she has to crane her neck to look at me. It gives me the illusion that I could shield her if she were in danger.
“You’re not wearing glasses.” Out of everything to notice.
“Contacts. Figured the nerdy cowboy look wouldn’t play with this crowd.”
Her pupils shrink. “Didn’t realize you were aiming to please the crowd.”
Is that jealousy? “The only person I’m aiming to please is standing right in front of me. If she prefers me with glasses, I’ll pop my contacts out.”
Electra’s throat dips. With a shrug, she says, “The only reason I commented about the glasses was that I wasn’t sure whether you could see me.”
My eyes wander over her face, then down her elegant neck and heaving chest. What I wouldn’t give to slip my palms over the tight suede and mold her.
“Even blind, I’d see you, Electra,” I finally say.
Another swallow agitates her pretty throat. “Not sure how that would work.”
I look away from her peaked nipples and meet her blue and gold irises. “The way it works when you stare at the sun too long, close your eyes, and it’s still there.”
The slightly lifted corners of Electra’s mouth falter as though knocked off kilter by my explanation.
“I heard there was a dance party happenin’ right across the street. One I wasn’t invited to.” Mrs. Murphy’s voice glances off every framed band poster and backlit liquor battle.
I glance over Electra’s shoulder at my favorite patron, assuming I were a legitimate trainer.
“Fiona! Hi!” Jeneva sounds genuinely pleased by the septuagenarian’s arrival. “Ladies, meet the woman we should all aspire to be when we get…”
“Old enough to be carbon-dated?” Electra supplies, turning away from me to behold the woman who loves her like a granddaughter and whom she loves right back. Because that’s the sort of person Electra is—steel to strangers, tender with those she lets in.
May she let me in.I’d sayagain, except I was never truly there. All I ever got were glimpses of all those soft places.
Calanthe suddenly bursts out laughing, the sound jarring me out of my head.
“What are you laughin’ at, Callie? Better not be Elle’s deplorable sense of humor.”
“No. I’d never—” Calanthe tosses her head back on another burst of laughter that catches.
Even Mrs. Murphy’s lips twitch. “Clearly.”
Calanthe wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, hiccupping. One look at Electra has her going again.
She turns toward Diego. “Tell me something super depressing,” she murmurs in between giggles.
I hadn’t noticed him. I scan the bar for anyone else I might’ve missed. Like Tarian, but he’s thankfully absent. So is Electra’s god crush and the scary older brother.
