18. Hungry Eyes – Eric Carmen
Shay – 29 years; Skye17 years
Every inch of me burned with the rage I couldn’t contain, yet for her, I held it in check. She came first, always. Granted, Alan’s eye had met my fist the second he opened the door, I had to refrain from stripping off his skin and hanging him out to dry until the flies picked his bones clean.
Then Griffin came up with the brilliant alternative. Now, I figured Alan would think twice about touching another girl. If not out of fear, then the knowledge his peers had video footage that would’ve probably gone viral by now.
“Blue,” I sighed out her name, caressing the back of her head, my other hand tightening around my waist.
She leaned back and looked up at me. Those thick lashes framing sparkling blue eyes were always my undoing but glazed with tears, they ripped my heart to shreds. I hated seeing her cry. “You okay?” I slid a thumb under an eye, catching the remnants of her tears.
Instead of answering, she rested her cheek on my chest and slid her arms around my waist, her breathing now softer. Gently, I brushed my fingers through her hair, swirling in soft curls around her waist. Earlier, the elegant up style together with that stunning dress had me wondering when she’d grown up. Yet, fucking Ryleigh’s mouth to the image of Skye unsettled me. Fuck, it shot my emotions to shit. And if Grady hadn’t called when he did, I probably would’ve drunk myself to pass out point or got on the next flight back to base.
“How’s our baby girl?” Griffin rounded the car to where we stood. I had no idea why he’d stuck around back at the house, and I didn’t bother asking.
Skye turned her head to look at him, her cheek still resting against my chest, her hands around my waist. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Want me to fuck him up some more?” He wiggled his brow, his smile encouraging.
“No.” She leaned her head back to look at me. “Can we just go home?”
I nodded and released my hold on her before we all climbed into my car. By the time we dropped off Griffin and reached home, the light drizzle had morphed into a downpour. I pulled into the garage, switched off the engine and looked at Skye. She was staring at her linked fingers, rolling one thumb over the other repeatedly.
Since she came into my life, somehow, I’d known exactly how to fix every dilemma she’d encountered over the years. Now though, I felt like I’d failed her. If I wasn’t such an ass, worrying about the filthy things I wanted to do to her, maybe I would’ve seen Alan for the fucking douche I sensed he was the second I walked into the house. I needed to get my head screwed on right the fuck now.
“Talk to me, Blue.” I reached across to slip my hand into hers, not letting the softness of her palm distract me.
She stared at our linked hands before she slowly traced the veins on the back of my hand. “Why is it so important to lose your virginity at prom?” she whispered as if she were questioning herself rather than me.
Her question threw me for a moment, turning my blood to ice.Fuck.I clenched my free hand hoping that fucker hadn’t taken that from her. He didn’t deserve it. Nobody did. “Blue, did he...” I trailed off, part of me not wanting to know the answer and part of me wanting to kill the fucker for touching her.
She didn’t answer me but continued to draw circles on my hand. “Someday, I want to meet a guy like you, Shay. Someone sweet, gentle and knows how to treat a woman right.”
Oh, baby, if only you knew just how fucked up I am.
I sighed. “You definitely will,” I replied, already hating the unknown guy for taking something I desperately wanted. She looked at me then and strangely I couldn’t read her expression. Those eyes held so much emotion, though. Sadness, anger, self-deprecation. I was at a sudden loss, yet I felt every agonizing second, she was sinking into. I had to bring her out. “Feel like a brain freeze?” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I winked, knowing it was a game she liked to play. “Come on.”
After I changed out of Griffin’s jacket into a t-shirt, I made Cocochinos while Skye removed my shirt, sat at the island and secured the torn material of her dress with safety pins. Done, I placed the two tall glasses on the countertop between us.
She looked up from her temporary mend. “Best I can do for now,” she murmured drawing the straw holder closer. I caught the underlying dejection in her voice.
Her misery was slowly wrecking me, dismantling my walls, scorching my self-control like an inescapable inferno. I shoved aside my asinine need, realizing she was clueless to her vulnerability. Growing up with only Dad and I to school her, she was accustomed to jeans, sneakers and t-shirts yet she didn’t need a pretty dress to recognize her unassuming beauty.
“Torn dress or not, you’re still beautiful,” I replied, snagging the smile she was doing a terrible job at hiding. “Ready?” I grabbed a straw and dunked it in the chocolate drink.
