Page 88 of To Have and to Stalk
“Shit,” I said aloud.
Maybe Iwasdrunk.
Someone bent in front of me, hand coming to my elbow. Terror seized my lungs.
“I know jujitsu,” I lied. “Iwillbreak your bones.”
“Terrifying.”
I froze at the voice. Deep. Cragged. Icy waves crashing against ancient rocks.
I blinked up into deep, ocean-blue eyes.
“You have terrible social skills,” I said. “Have you ever thought of calling in place of stalking? You could say something like, ‘Hey Shay, wanna go out Friday? We could get drunk and touch each other.’”
“You’re hurt.” He gripped my chin, eyes narrowing on mine. “And drunk.”
Before I could respond, he picked me up, throwing me over his arm. With his free hand, he covered my panties, carrying me farther from the club.
chapter
thirty
SHAY
Calder carried me to a sleek black sports car and gently placed me inside. His hand on the roof of the car, he bent forward, lingering. I fisted the soft black fabric of his shirt, noticing a darkening stain.
“I think I bled on your shirt,” I said.
He gripped my wrists wordlessly, stare lingering on mine. The air throbbed between us.
“Wait…” I glanced around. “Where is your bike?”
He gave me a look, tilting his head like,What are you talking about?
“You wore a motorcycle helmet,” I said, remembering our first date. And…well, the time he crashed mine.
A sheepish look crossed his face. “I don’t have a bike. My brother does. He left his spare helmet at my place.”
I laughed, unable to help myself.
“It’s dangerous!” he said, indignant.
“Afraid of spiders. Safety conscious. Stalker.” I leaned forward until our noses nearly touched. “Who are you?”
An unknown emotion clouded his gaze. His grip flexed against my wrists. Then he pulled me off him and shut the car door. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Absently, I noticed the car’s interior. Soft leather seats. Sleek black detailing. Graham had loved his luxury cars, but this was something else?—
In the rearview mirror, I saw Calder reach behind his head and yank off his shirt. I think my mouth dropped. I realized I’d never actually seen him shirtless. I’dfelthim, felt the hard ridges and cords of his abs.
But…
I stared at the rearview greedily. Inky black tattoos traced the hard muscle of his neck, sliding down the deep grooves of his abdomen, disappearing beneath his waistband. That restrained power I’d noticed on our first date was no longer leashed. With each movement, new muscles carved into his body—his triceps, his forearm, his?—
Oh fuck.
Hiships.
He opened the trunk, and my view vanished behind it. A few seconds later, Calder closed it and walked to the driver’s side, now wearing a shirt—myshirt.When did he get my shirt?
