Page 75 of Burning Ember
My body, which stopped listening to my brain since the moment I met her, wanted her. Wanted inside her. Dirty fucking images of me bending her over the table ran rampant through my mind.
The lines I’ve drawn for myself when it comes to her are disappearing. I nearly kissed her last night. If Jade hadn’t interrupted us, I would have. And I wouldn’t have stopped there. She would’ve been wrapped up in my arms.
It didn’t escape my notice that our bodies fit perfectly together like a lock and key.
On the tail of that thought is the memory of her reaction to seeing Jade tied to my bed. She’d been terrified, in full-blown panic mode, clawing at me to get out of my room. You’d think I was trying to push her off a cliff, not making her face a bed with a naked woman tied to it. Then as if by magic, she calmed to my touch, softened in my arms and I’ll be fuckin’ damned if my voice didn’t have the power to tame the fire and fear in her eyes. I asked for her trust and she handed it over. Handed it right the fuck over. Even after all the shit that I’d dealt her way over the last few days. The result—a surge of protectiveness and lust barreled through me. My body and my brain aligned to want only one thing . . .her.
Just her.
Under me.
On top of me.
Any way I could get her.
But Jade’s shrieking put an end to whatever had been about to happen.
And I spent the rest of the night trying to get my body and mind to understand that Doll wasn’t for me, and wondering what in the hell she had been through that would make her react the way she did to seeing Jade. She claimed she was claustrophobic. And yeah, maybe, that explained Dozer’s door being left open, and her feeling cagey, but something told me this was different.
Scars.
She had more than the ones on her wrists. Scars that run deeper, like mine. Scars underneath her gorgeous skin and sea blue eyes. And little by little, they’re swimming to the surface for me to see.
Like the other day when Bodie had hold of her. Whatever had taken place, it wasn’t a game to her. The anxiety radiating through her eyes told me as much.
Fuck! Mav . . . you’re doing it again. . . .
You can’t keep letting her infiltrate and hijack your mind.
I force myself to shut down the part of me that gives a fuck about her. The part that wants to know every goddamn thing about her.
But it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, because deep down some baser part of me craves her. Craves her like I’ve never craved anyone, not even Dana.
The simple truth. And the only thing that has the power to help me get her off my mind. Is the fact that she’s not for me.
She’s for Edge. And I’ve already fucked my best friend over once. I’ll be damned if I’m doing it a second time.
Upending the bottle, I pour the last of the JD into my glass. I’m feeling good and trashed, but that little bit of liquid euphoria is calling my name.
Name . . . Name . . . Name . . .
I don’t even know her name.
It could be anything. Samantha. Alison. Tammy. I shake my head. Nah, she doesn’t look like a Tammy. Maybe a Tracy.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll make her tell me her name. Right after I find out why the fuck she’s scared of me.
“Mav?” Someone waves a hand in front of my face. “Mav?”
“What?” My gaze slowly travels up. I take in the woman’s nice tits, cleavage, and mocha skin. I flinch when my eyes land on her brown irises. I hate fuckin’ brown eyes. Dana had brown eyes. It takes me a second to recognize the girl in front of me.
“I don’t know if I should say anything.” The words spill from her mouth. “It’s about . . . Pumpkin. Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“S-say what? What about her?”
Her eyes widen. “Uh . . . nothin’. Maybe when you’re not so . . .”
