#Selfie

by Cambria Hebert

  Fine. Maybe I was.

  But only a little.

  Prada was disturbed by our argument and jumped up from her cocoon. She gave a tiny little bark and her big ears went up when she saw Braeden.

  “What the fuck!” Braeden said, noticing my little dog. “You got a rat infestation in here, Blondie!”

  I gasped, so freaking insulted he would say such a thing, and I pulled away.

  Too late I felt his fingers dig into the fabric at my back and start to pull.

  I yelled, but really, there was no use. He shoved me away from him but kept the blanket. I spun out of my cocoon and fell into the center of the room.

  Dead silence filled the room.

  I’d rather hear him insult me.

  My throat felt thick when I swallowed and tucked the hair behind my ears. I was facing away from him, toward the window, and I didn’t bother to turn around.

  I was scared to.

  He was staring at me. I felt it all the way in the deepest part of me.

  Why couldn’t I be naked?

  Being naked would have been far less embarrassing than this.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Braeden

  I knew she was hiding something.

  The way she clutched that gigantic blanket around her curves and hid herself from sight was just wrong. Ivy wasn’t the kind of girl to hide; she was the kind of girl that wanted to stand out.

  I couldn’t stay away tonight. No amount of beer or sex could chase away the image of her and Trent on the dance floor, the way his hands skimmed over her body and hips as they moved to the music.

  It made me crazy, and I hated it.

  But I still couldn’t stay away and I found myself outside her room. I tried to talk myself out of it. Obviously, I sucked at it.

  When she peeked out the door, I’d known. I’d known she wasn’t alone, that Trent was here and his hands were doing a lot more than skimming. It was a damned miracle I hadn’t busted down the door and stormed in like a ninja on ‘roids.

  I deserved a metal for my downright angelic behavior.

  But…

  The room was empty. Trent was nowhere to be seen. And Ivy acted as if she had no idea why I would ask if he was here.

  When I saw the state of the bed, spots of red tinged my vision. That was a sex bed. I’d seen enough of them to know.

  The memory of Ivy trying to tug the blankets off the bed in my room that night to wrap them around herself was the final straw. She was naked, and he was hiding in this room… somewhere.

  So I yanked that shit right off her body.

  I wasn’t going to be lied to.

  Oh, hells no.

  But Ivy wasn’t naked.

  And she had been hiding something.

  Something I never in a million years expected.

  She was wearing my shirt.

  Oh, hells yeah.

  My cock got so hard so fast it made me lightheaded.

  My name was stretched across her back. Right there in Wolves’ colors. It basically stamped her as mine.

  Mine.

  My number rode low because the shirt was so much larger on her than it ever had been on me, and the bottom of the three skimmed her firm, round ass. She wasn’t wearing any pants, and her legs stretched out from beneath the well-worn blue fabric and flirted with her creamy skin.

  “Turn around,” I demanded, but my voice had gone hoarse.

  I was aware of a rat with big ears watching us from the bed, but even that couldn’t distract me from her.

  She held herself tensely, like she was expecting me to yell. I waited her out, and finally, she slowly pivoted around to face me.

  The Wolves logo slashed across her chest and blond hair fell over her shoulders.

  It was criminal the way she looked in that shirt. A fucking crime against women everywhere. No one else would ever look the way she did in nothing but a shirt.

  My shirt.

  I never understood Rome’s insistence that Rimmel wear his hoodie around. I never quite got why he seemed to get such satisfaction seeing his name plastered on her that way.

  I got it now.

  “I thought I told you to throw that away,” I said, forcing my eyes up away from her body.

  “I didn’t listen.”

  “That smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble,” I warned.

  She exhaled. “Look, I washed it. The blood came out. I was gonna give it to you the next time I could bear to be in your presence without the thought of impaling myself on the first sharp object I saw.”

  My smile was swift. “Then what are you doing wearing it?”

  She blanched but recovered quickly. “It was late and dark when I got home. I reached in my dresser and pulled out the first thing my hand closed around. I didn’t realize it was this shirt, your shirt, until—”

  “But you left it on,” I cut her off.

  Oh, I was enjoying this. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. She kept tugging at the hem, as if she could pull it down so far it would hide her from view.

  “It’s comfortable, okay?” she whined.

  I laughed. She totally liked wearing my shirt.

  And Trent wasn’t in this room.

  She made a low, huffing sound and crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

  And just like that, the tides turned. I was in the spotlight now. Except I wasn’t going to fidget like a damn girl.

  “I came to see Rim.”

  Ivy gave me a look like she just ate a dozen sour eggs. “You know she’s with Romeo.”

  I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if he was bringing her back here or not.”

  “You asked if he was here.”

  “I said she.” I lied and tilted my head. “How much you have to drink tonight?”

  “Not nearly enough to listen to your bullshit.”

  Truth was now that I was standing in the center of her room and the image of her wearing that shirt and nothing else was singed into my soul, I’d rather eat a can of buffalo fart than admit why I was really here.

  I was jealous.

  I was scared as shit.

  When I didn’t say anything, Ivy uncrossed her arms and dropped them at her sides. “Well, you can see Rimmel is clearly not here. So you can leave.” She started forward, presumably toward the door.

  I was blocking her path and didn’t bother to move. Her arm brushed against me when she shouldered by. I should have let her go. I should have watched her open the door and motion for me to take my sorry ass out into the hall.

  I didn’t.

  My hand shot out and caught her forearm. Her steps halted almost instantly; she went rigid and didn’t look at me. Ivy kept her face turned away, staring straight ahead, waiting for me to release her.

  Catch and release.

  The phrase whispered through my mind, and instinctively, I tightened my fingers around her arm. Her skin was warm and soft. She felt like satin in my palm. I didn’t want to let her go. Technically, I hadn’t even caught her.

  But I was a twisted kind of guy. Deep down, I knew if I let her go, if I dropped my hold, it would be a test.

  Would Ivy flee or would she remain rooted to the spot, so closely at my side?

  The answer would be telling. The action would speak much louder than anything she could say.

  I let go.

  I stayed exactly as I was. I didn’t move except to drop my hand.

  And then I waited to see what she would do. I waited for her to put distance between us.

  She didn’t.

  We stood there in the center of her dim room, neither of us moving, neither of us saying a word. Beneath my shirt, her chest rose and fell with every breath she took, and the scent of her hair lingered in the small space between us.

  I gave her the option to move away. Yet just like at the beach when we were alone, we were in the dark, and there was nothing here to help us hide the truth.

  “Do you ever think about that night?” I whispere
d, watching her profile.

  Her teeth sank into the lower portion of her lip.

  Do you ever miss me? I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t even want to have the thought, let alone put it out there.

  Her chin dipped a little and her eyes gazed downward. Strands of wavy blond hair fell forward and blocked her profile from sight. “I think about the sounds of the ocean and the way the stars there lit up the sky like I’d never seen before.”

  Her voice was so quiet, but it held me captive, even though it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It was like she was a siren just then, singing something so beautiful it didn’t matter what song it was.

  Ivy swallowed thickly and fell silent. Her hand slid up and palmed her hip, taking a fistful of my shirt.

  Without thinking, I caught the length of her hair and brushed it back over her shoulder so I could see her face. She turned toward me, and the blue of her eyes searched my face.

  “Most of all, I think about the way you looked that night with the stars overhead and the sound of the ocean drowning out all the reasons I hate you so much.”

  Fuck.

  Her words were homicide. Homicide to every thought in my head just then.

  “Why are you really here, Braeden?” Her tone was hushed.

  “Why are you really wearing my shirt?” I echoed.

  She started to look away. I slid my hand around the base of her neck and tugged her back. Reluctantly, her eyes met mine.

  Even the expanse of a few inches between us was just too much. I guided her forward, keeping my palm firmly at the base of her neck, and lowered my face to capture her mouth.

  The first touch was like aloe to a burn. It was like a drink of water to a really dry tongue. The relief that flowed through me was so heavy I drew back slightly.

  Her lashes fluttered open and our eyes met.

  Goddamn, I’d never in my entire life been wound so tight.

  I kissed her again, this time fusing our mouths together and not pulling back. I kissed her deeply but softly, nibbling at her lips between deep strokes of my tongue. Her body went boneless. She literally turned to putty in my arms. I wrapped myself around her and held us both in place. My hands didn’t roam her body. I didn’t try to cop a feel. Even though my cock was raging inside my jeans, I didn’t think about burying it deep inside her.

  All I thought about was the way she kissed. The way I felt exploring her. She opened up to me in ways I didn’t realize existed. She opened up a part of me I didn’t realize I had.

  The kiss went on and on. Our lips tangled together, our tongues danced, and a heavy fog settled over us both. I was in that place one only existed when they were between sleep and awake. That kind of fuzzy, heavy awareness that pulled you down and kept most of reality at bay.

  I don’t know how long we stood like that, but when she pulled back, it hadn’t been long enough. Her lips were slightly swollen, and her eyes were dazed.

  I kept my palm cupped around her neck and flexed my fingers.

  “You shouldn’t kiss me like that,” she whispered.

  “Like what?” My voice sounded as if I’d just smoked three packs of cigarettes.

  “Like this is more than just having fun.”

  I pulled back. The haze around us was still dense, but her words cut through it just enough for some reality to seep inside. She basically just threw my own code in my face.

  I didn’t date women. I didn’t get the feels. All I ever did was have fun.

  Everyone knew it. I never made it a secret.

  No girl ever had a problem with it.

  And no one ever used it against me.

  “Missy is my best friend.” As she spoke, she backed away, like I was a poisonous snake.

  “Missy and I aren’t together.” We never were. And after what just happened downstairs, we never would be.

  “But she wants to be.”

  And there went the rest of the haze over the room. The statement was like a category-five hurricane ripping up every last ounce of intensity from that kiss.

  “I don’t want Missy,” I ground out.

  “What do you want?”

  If that wasn’t a loaded question, then nothing was. Her voice was almost desperate, imploring me to just tell her, to put us both out of our misery.

  “I’m not into Missy,” I ground out again. Saying what I didn’t want was a hell of a lot easier than admitting what I did.

  “Yeah?” Ivy tapped her foot on the floor like she was scolding a five-year-old. It was damned cute.

  Wait. What? Damned cute? Scratch that. She was being annoying as hell.

  She kept on yapping. “Well, you aren’t into me either. You just want something you can’t have.”

  “News flash,” I retorted. “I already had you.”

  “You’re an asshole!” she yelled at me.

  “You ain’t a prize either,” I muttered.

  “Look, I’m not going to be your next ‘just for fun’ fling. What happened at the beach was a mistake. You might not be into Missy, but she is into you. I won’t hurt her like that.” She stomped to the door but didn’t pull it open. Instead, she stood there staring at the wall.

  “Is there a reason you didn’t want Trent to be here tonight?” she whispered after a minute of silence. It was like even after her speech, her declaration we would never happen, she still couldn’t let it go.

  I knew how she felt. I was standing here because of it.

  Why couldn’t I just say it?

  Tell her you want her…

  A little whine cut through the room. Ivy made a noise and rushed past me to scoop up the rat. “Oh, you poor thing,” she crooned. “I’ll make the bad man go away.”

  I guess the bad man she was referring to was me? How original.

  She turned, cradling the ball of fluff in her arms. All I saw was ears and wayward strands of hair. My heart turned over, and it scared the living shit out of me.

  “What the fuck is that? Should I call an exterminator?”

  She glared at me. “She’s a Chihuahua. Rimmel brought her home. Her name is Prada.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course this was my sister’s doing.

  She was getting my girl all wrapped up in rescuing the helpless rats of Maryland.

  I jerked. Did I just think of Ivy as my girl?

  Oh, this was bad. Very bad.

  Ivy noticed my behavior, and it seemed to draw her up short.

  “You’re hiding a gremlin in your room? What happens when it gets wet? This building will turn into a bad horror movie.” I was good at covering up my feelings with sarcasm.

  Ivy covered the dog’s ears like it could understand my insult, and I rolled my eyes again.

  “She’s just a little baby.” I watched her bend down carefully and set the dog on the ground near a bowl of dog food and a white sheet thing on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed that stuff before.

  “There you go, little girl,” Ivy spoke softly, and the dog wagged her entire butt. Seriously, I had farts bigger than that thing. But damned if Ivy didn’t seem to love it. I wasn’t necessarily used to seeing her so in love with something. So in tune.

  It made me jealous all over again.

  Jealous of a rat.

  It was a low day for me.

  When she stood again, my shirt rode up on her hips, exposing more of her thigh. The need to grab her and cover her body with mine was so intense I took a step back.

  “What are we doing, Braeden?” Ivy asked wearily.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Trent asked me out. On a date.” She was watching me, gauging my reaction.

  “So?” I growled.

  “So I said yes.”

  She what the what? I felt my blood start to boil. It was my normal reaction to being around Ivy too long.

  “Poor guy,” I quipped. “He must be desperate.”

  “Well, at least he wants more from a woman than just sex,” she retorted, but it was said without her usual heat, without any ang
er.

  It was almost like she was just sad.

  I started forward. “Ivy—”

  She leapt at me, shoved at my shoulders. “Watch where you walk! You might step on Prada!”

  I looked down. The dog was attacking my loose shoelace.

  “Vicious,” I remarked, dry.

  Ivy rolled her eyes.

  “She doesn’t seem too concerned that I’m as bad as you say I am.”

  Ivy straightened but didn’t step away.

  “I don’t think you’re bad, Braeden,” she whispered.

  I brushed the pad of my thumb across the expanse of her cheekbone. “What do you think of me, then?”

  She turned her face into my touch, and I flattened my palm against her face. After a few seconds, she pulled away.

  “Missy is my friend. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

  “What if Missy wasn’t an issue? What would you want, then?”

  Ivy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. My stomach tightened. She looked into me with those blue eyes of hers, and I saw the words in her eyes. Then I watched her bury them.

  “But she is.”

  Frustrated and mad, I turned away. The rat tried to chase after me to catch my shoelace.

  “Prada,” Ivy called out, worry in her tone.

  I stopped walking. Even though I felt like stomping out of the room, I wasn’t going to risk stepping on that damn dog.

  Ivy would never forgive me. And I wasn’t a dog killer, even the ones that looked like gremlins.

  “Thank you,” Ivy said and scooped up the puppy. Once I knew the dog was out of harm’s way, I stormed to the door. Ivy followed along behind me.

  I turned back just to take in the sight of her in my shirt one last time.

  She saw me looking. “If you give me a minute, I’ll change and you can have it back.”

  I laughed.

  For two reasons:

  I was never gonna wear that shirt again. It was hers now. Forever.

  And…

  If she went to change, I’d never resist the temptation of her just steps away, naked.

  I closed the distance between us in one great step. Ivy’s back went up against the wall. Prada wiggled around between us.

  “I don’t want my shirt back,” I murmured. I craved her lips. Her kiss. “I want to think about you wearing it. About it touching your bare skin and covering you at night when you sleep.”