Page 54 of Wild Card

“Decker.” I finally lifted my eyes, shifting everything internal to align with my decision not to care about him. It was no use. My heart leapt within my chest at the sight of him, like the tip of a mountain in the middle of winter, an avalanche of desire cascading through me, ruining me. He wore his practice jersey with the red D for the Devils on the right side and red lines running down the white cotton, split open and gaping over a plain white tee.

My throat dried at how hot he looked. His dark brown hair was lightening from being in the sun, but the longer strands were messy, like he’d run his fingers through them recklessly. I wanted to demand that he explain himself, that he tell me why he’d ignored me. There was even a small part of me that wanted to ask what I had done wrong, but that tiny part needed to die. Which was why I wouldn’t give in to him.

He stepped inside, and before I could move or create space, his hand shot toward my hip, gripping me to stay put.

Dangerous. This was nothing but dangerous.

He needed Taylor to want him. For whatever reason he had, he needed her…but the way he looked down at me, pulling me flush against his chest made it seem like he needed me too.

“What have you done to your hair?” He leaned in until his nose ran along the smooth strands that hung near my ear.

His eyes closed as he inhaled and skimmed the sensitive skin there, right over my tattoo. I wanted to sink into his arms, beg him to take me back to my bedroom and close the gap that had widened between us over the past week.

“I cut it.” I cleared my throat and grabbed his forearm, desperate for space.

His eyes blazed as they ran a path along each change on my face and slowly worked their way down to my thin fitted tank top, showing tanned, freckled skin. He dipped his head to see my skinny jeans that ended above my bare toes, which were painted white. That confused gaze swiftly worked back up to meet my calculated one. I wanted to understand that look he wore, the pinched eyebrows, the worry lines, and the concern softening his gaze.

“I liked the way your hair was before…your shirts and jeans too.” He finally stepped back, and the air that was suddenly available between us burned like a heat wave.

I nodded, knowing he probably did like those things.

“Guess I’m not going for someone to like me. I want someone towantme. You know…the way you want my stepsister.”

“Hey.” A sultry, soft voice spoke up from behind me. Speak of the devil.

We both turned to see Taylor walking toward us, drawing closer to Decker, wearing tiny sleep shorts that showed the bottom of her ass cheeks. She had a sleep tank on as well, showing her perfect silicone breasts and those nipples alert and ready for Decker’s touch.

I swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in my throat as I looked at her shiny blonde hair and tan skin, her legs that had zero cellulite, and the lack of a single hint of a muffin top at the band of the shorts hugging her hips.

I was confident in myself. I loved my body. I did…it was just that, when we were teenagers, as I blossomed into the curvy hips and awkward bust, I became aware of how different I was from her. I began to notice how the boys our age would look at her and ignore me, unless they saw a way to get to her through me. Becoming my friend, hanging out…all so, in the end, they’d get to her. Subconsciously, I had handed over a few cards to Taylor that never belonged to her. I was so careful to ensure no one else was given those things freely, but it was so hard to get them back once I’d let them slip free.

I looked up and realized Decker’s gaze was still on me. He had that look on his face like he was chewing gravel again. I waited him out, not giving in to that look or what it might mean, until finally he slid his eyes toward Taylor. There wasn’t appreciation in his gaze, or desire…but maybe that was just what I wanted to see or didn’t want to see. Maybe I was just creating this entire thing in my head.

I needed clarity, and more than anything, I needed space.

“You kids have fun. I’m headed out.” I reached for my red hoodie, like my own little security blanket.

Decker swung his head back in my direction. “Where?”

“Elias wants to take me out tonight, wants to go dancing.” I grabbed for a pair of wedged heels, withholding a wince at how stupid of an idea it would be to dance in them all night. I wanted my Converse tennis shoes.

Decker took a step toward me and gripped my arm in a tight hold. “You fucking joking?” he angrily whispered, leaning toward my ear so Taylor wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not.” I gave him a tight smile.

“Mallory, he’s not—”

“He’s here, gotta run.”

“Mallory, don’t,” he warned, but I couldn’t let it land because I was doing exactly what he was…at least I hoped he was. There was a chance he did have feelings for Taylor, but a part of me knew he was doing this out of obligation to something. I had games to play too, and I didn’t need Decker making me feel things when he couldn’t give me what I wanted.

I pulled my arm free, waved at Taylor, and ran out the door, swinging it shut behind me.

Elias was outside his truck waiting for me, leaning against it, watching the house like a cat who’d just cornered the pesky mouse that had gotten away from him one too many times.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He smiled, but it flew over my head, did nothing to me. Might as well have been Juan smiling at me.

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