The sigh that leaves him is infuriating. “It’s not there either.”
I glare daggers at him as if they could slice through his perfectly cut jawline and beautiful eyes. If his eyes bled from my fictional blades, I could only envision them looking like those pinstripe red-and-green candy canes at Christmas that my parents would let me hang on the tree—one of the only holidays where I didn’t feel as lonely as I usually did.
His hot lips scrape against the shell of my ear. “And save those cock-hardening eyes for later. I want you to look at me like that when I claim your ass tonight,” he whispers, the statement pouring down my spine like hot honey.
Sticky. Sweet. And sinful.
I pick up my fork, stabbing a soggy piece of drenched French toast. “You have no limits.”
“Not when it comes to you, Little Ghost.”
THIRTY-TWO | COLTEN
Ipull my truck around the circular driveway to the front of the house and park behind our SUV, turning off the ignition. Taryn and Tristan hop out of the vehicle in front of me, and she rounds the other side to Elena’s door.
I watch them for a moment.
Recently, I always seem to be watching.
Their interactions. Their expressions when they’re around each other. It’s mesmerizing and fuels the unfamiliar flame billowing in my chest.
She opens the rear door—the top half of her body disappearing into the cab. The illumination from my headlights kisses the muscles in her toned legs. Her feet shuffle on the pavement, her body appearing to be struggling.
What is she doing?
I don’t even know why I bother asking the question because she’s doing something that will probably drive a hedge hammer straight into the barrier I’ve maintained all these years.
And I’m fucking right.
She lifts Elena out of her car seat. My little sister’s arms weave around Taryn’s neck tightly, her legs secured around Taryn’s waist.
Tristan maneuvers around her, grabs some plastic bags out of the back seat, and shuts the door for her. Their mouths move, their blurred voices barely reaching my ears. The conversation easily flows between them as if they’ve known each other longer than a couple of months. Tristan laughs, a vibrant and lively sound muted by glass, but it buries itself into my bones as if I were standing before him, witnessing it for myself.
Goddamn, I wish I could develop superhuman hearing at times like this.
Absentmindedly, I lift my fingers to my breastbone, massaging away the unwelcome ache. Jesus Christ, I wish these spasms constricting my chest would go away. It’s only been present at certain times during the day, whenever she happens to be around. Or I think about her.
I should be relieved it’s not the signs of a heart attack. I already went down that rabbit hole searching for symptoms on the internet.
Unfortunately,chest pain when a woman is aroundisn’t a sign of one.
Whatever feelings I have toward her have been implanted somewhere out of reach—an isolated sanctuary deep within the recesses of my mind where they don’t want to be tainted by all the valid reasons why she can’t ever be mine.
I’ve tried to disregard them. Ignore the part of me that wants to feed the urges and consider what we could be if I somehow pulled my head out of my ass.
But if I don’t acknowledge thewhat-ifs, I won’t have to admit that I like her being here.
That I like the way she is withthem.
That I love the way she is with me.
Taryn pauses, repositioning Elena’s frame so her weight sits comfortably on her hip.
Opening my door, I exit the car and hustle over to her, shoving my keys in my pocket before holding my arms out.
“Let me carry her,” I insist.
Her eyes twinkle in the glow from the headlights as she contemplates my offer since they have yet to shut off. She grips Elena tighter, nuzzling their heads together, and a lump lodges in my throat.
