Page 34 of Flock
“You mean another ass-whooping?” I ask as my eyes roam from his raven tattoo to the black beanie hanging from his back pocket. Even though the temperature cools considerably after sundown, the beanie seems out of place for the start of summer.
“You planning on robbing someone tonight, Jeremy?”
He pauses and then resumes chalking his cue before shoving the beanie deeper into his pocket. “Already did.”
“Oh yeah?”
He winks, and Tyler chuckles. “The only thing you robbed tonight is your mom’s dresser.”
Jeremy glares at Tyler. “Are we doing your momma tonight? Because I think we know how that ends. And for me, it’s always a happy ending.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tyler snaps. Russell, who I consider the second mute next to Dominic, grabs a stick and chalks it. “Tyler, you know no one can do your momma quite like Jeremy can.”
I look to Tyler, who seriously looks pissed. “Is there really a story there?”
“No,” Tyler snaps, more toward the others than to me. “They’re just fucking with me.”
“If that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep tonight, son,” Jeremy smirks and turns to me. “He’s a momma’s boy. But I think we need some more quality time to remedy that. Daddy knows best.”
Grinning at their back and forth, I look up to see Dominic watching me as Sean talks a mile a minute. A spark runs through me at his scrutiny. We haven’t spoken since the night he let me into the garage. Every time I get close enough, he shuts me down, blatantly ignoring me as if I’m not speaking directly to him. Sean tells me not to take it personally, but with his constant shunning, and the looks he gives me, it grates at me. I shift my attention to Sean despite the awareness of Dominic’s stare and study him, remembering the feel of his kiss, the look in his eyes, the way he’d consumed me with his mouth, with the promise of more. And that’s what I see when he finally turns in my direction. His hazel gaze travels appreciatively down my body before a faint smile graces his lips.
Shivers run down my spine when he looks at me this way. It’s as if we know what’s coming, and we aren’t the only ones aware of it.
“You two need a moment alone?” Russell snarks snidely, catching our latest exchange before lining up his cue to the ball and taking his shot.
“Here’s an idea: shut the fuck up,” Sean says easily, just as he reaches me, pulling me to him. The man has confidence in spades, a smile that could melt the panties off a nun, and eyes that convey everything without him speaking a word. Every day I become more drawn to him, and every day I feel the tie that’s beginning to bind us. Actions over words—that’s what I’m taking with a grain of salt over Sean’s cautious words on my birthday.
“Missed you,” he holds me to him tightly as I bask in his arms, my eyes meeting Dominic’s behind his shoulder before he pushes out the back door of the garage without a word.
“Why does he hate me?”
“Ignore him.”
“Kind of hard to.”
“He’s good at that,” he says, softly pressing a brief kiss to my bare shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he leans in and inhales, damn near drawing a moan from me. “Smell good too.”
I turn my head so our lips are close. “Thank you.”
“This for me?” His knuckles run up the side of my dress, and the ache starts at my core with the memory of rocks digging into my back, cascading water, and his wicked mouth. He reads my thoughts, his eyes flaring, and this time I’m the one who’s brandishing the canary-eating smile.
“Maybe.”
“Trouble,” he murmurs. I bite my lip and I swear I hear a faint groan.
“We playin’ or what?” Russell snaps us out of our intimate bubble. Sean rolls his eyes as we break apart, and he fishes two beers out of a nearby cooler. I accept one, knowing I’m not going to drink much of it. The minute he cracks his beer open, and the music gets turned up, I grab my stick and the games commence.
And I’m horrible. Despite my best efforts, my depth perception is off, way off to the point it’s embarrassing. And the guys have no issue razzing me about it. After scratching my way into another loss to Jeremy, I push my lip out and head for a seat on the couch, instead opting for Sean’s lap. He allows it, running a welcome hand down my back.
“I suck.”
“You do,” he agrees.
I grind my elbow into his side.
“Easy now. It takes practice,” Sean murmurs as I lean back into the stroke of his hand. The rhythmic feel of his fingers lulls me into a state of want as I watch him crack up with his friends.
After another few games or so, I’m completely absorbed; in his smell, his hands, the timbre of his voice, the feel of him. Everything about Sean turns me on, not just the way he looks but also the workings of his mind. It’s a draw that has me dizzy, aroused continuously, and enraptured in a way I’m not used to. Sean, in a way, is a new drug. More potent. More addictive and altogether just ... more.
