Biting his bottom lip, his brown eyes flick up to meet mine. “I don’t believe it. Not for one second.” His voice is deep and commanding. I shiver. The fire in my belly starts. Dropping his beloved football, he folds his arms behind his head as he waits for me to respond.
I shrug. “I think it’s a perfectly beautiful gown that Noah will love.” I look down at myself and then back to Steven.
“Oh, I’m sure Noah will love that dress.” He reaches a big hand out and wraps it around my waist, where the red fabric turns sheer. The heat radiating from his hand turns my shivers into something else entirely. His hand encapsulates my entire waist, spanning from my belly button to my back. It’s obvious why he’s the best quarterback in our district. “I’ll end up pummeling his face if he does anything improper or forward. You know that, right?” He’s speaking, but his gaze is focused on the hand that grasps me. I wrap my hand around his, to keep it there.
“What if I want him to be improper and forward?” I ask with a smile on my face. It’s a joke.
Steven takes it as anything but, one eyebrow rising with anger. “Why would you say that to me?” He drops his hand and he pulls a corner of his bottom lip into his mouth.
Womanly wiles: zero. So much for my new captivating game. “I’m sorry,” I admit, putting both hands on either side of his rosy cheeks. “I was joking.”
Keeping his hands on his knees, he says, “You could have fooled me. Since when do you joke anyways?”
I drop to my knees in front of him—a feat in this snug dress. Steven’s eyes widen. “Please forgive me, sweet Steven Warner. I do not want Noah’s flute skilled fingers anywhere around or inside my body. I will never joke about such an atrocity again.” I lay my hands on top of his. He looks down at me, arches a brow, and shakes his head.
“Don’t try out your man eating skills on me either. I know your game. You can’t bait a shark with a guppy, sweetheart.” Now his smile is full blown, his chest shaking with laughter.
I throw my hand on my chest in mock outrage. “How am I supposed to get any practice if my best guy friend won’t at least play along?” I tilt my head in question, but I can’t stifle the laughter bubbling up. We’re both out of breath and I have tears streaming down my face when my daddy comes in to tell us dinner will be in ten minutes.
“For the record, I’ll never say no if you do the knee groveling thing, Morgaliscious. Something about you on your knees and your lips spitting out such foreign words like forgive me and inside my body.”
“I don’t believe it. Not for one second,” I toss over my shoulder on the way out. Steven’s eyes are glued to my ass. Point for the home team.
I’ll swallow every ounce of pride in my body and apologize when he gets home from deployment, face to face. I told him that we shouldn’t be friends, and the level of groveling to get back that status will be immense. If he even agrees to it in the first place. Perhaps he’s realized when to cut his losses.
It’s easy to say now that I don’t have his hulking frame lumbering in front of me. I’m not witnessing the smile that brings me to my knees or his sculpted body that makes me want sex with just a glance. Mental images of him dominating me from every angle, his body melding with mine in perfection, rush my thoughts any time I think of him. With him gone, I’m detached. Because of that, it also made it easier than it should have been to write off the relationship as a mistake.
My cell phone pings, alerting me to a text. Dinner tonight? It’s Alex. I sigh. “Why can’t men just go away?” He’s done his fair share of messaging me over the weeks and months that Steven’s been gone. It’s like he knows the internal struggle I’m having and he’s dangling himself as the alternative lure in my own twisted game. It’s tempting to try with Alex. The thought has crossed my mind more than once that a romp in the sack with him might be all I need. That I’m so messed up in the head and lust drunk from Steven because I haven’t experienced an orgasm from sex since he left.
Alex has been nothing but patient and kind. He’s busy and I’m busy and I’ve made our friends status quite clear on several occasions, and he’s accepted it whole heartedly, only asking for my time.
I text back. Sure. I’m not going out tonight, though. Take out at my place?
A woman does have to eat. Contemplating gargantuan mistakes tends to make me hungry.
Steve
The flight from Germany, where we decompress before entering the United States after deployment, is always the most nerve-wracking experience. It’s wild with anticipation and excitement. This time the top emotion taking over my body is anxiety. Our job is finished, it’s time to go home and relax. I should be carefree and making plans with Morganna. Instead I’m left wondering if and when I’ll ever see her again. I could storm her front door the second I get home, but what good would that do?
She’s made her choice. It’s not me. I’ve heard from Cody, who’s heard from Lainey that she’s seeing the sexually transmitted disease Alex again. She might as well nickname me Nancy the Bitch Slapped Glutton. I’m not sure in what capacity, but I know she’s not happy with him. Her eyes, when I’m the one fucking her, don’t lie.
Morganna needs something specific that only comes from me. I know this. Who the hell knows how long it will take her to figure it out for herself. I’ll make her miss me. Starting with our friendship, but my cock will come in a close second. Minutes before touching down in Virginia Beach, these are the thoughts running through my mind. The raging hard-on in my pants has the completely wrong idea and I know I’ll need to do something about it as soon as possible. There is no way I can call Chloe. I e-mailed her while I was gone to say hello, and she typed back fire and acid in the form of a professional letter. I understand, though. Even I can’t get away with burning bridges from time to time.
Sasha would be an easy lay, but with only one woman on my mind I’m not sure Sasha would suffice. When our plane gets low enough, I text her as a backup plan.
“Already back to your old ways, huh? Not even going to try again?” Mav says from beside me, like a damned mind reader.
I tilt my phone screen away so he can’t be so fucking nosy. “I need pussy. Fast, easy pussy. It’s been months, Maverick. Which word would you use to describe Morg? Fast or easy?”
Maverick laughs, his baritone voice echoing the large cargo plane. “Touché. I just think there may be something you don’t know. She might be both fast and easy if you play your game right.”
I shake my head. “I’m done with games. I’m done. Clean slate, dude.”
“I can respect that.” His face turns grim. “I thought I was the best at self sabotage. Maybe she’s taken my crown.” I don’t want to think that. I want to know that she made a wise, well thought out decision. Maverick planting this seed of doubt is something I don’t need or want.
I stare at my phone and watch the gray bubble while Sasha types back. “She always knows what she wants. Always. Don’t give me that,” I say, hoping he’ll agree with me.
He turns that dimpled smile my way. “I promised him something, you know? Stone. He wanted me to make sure she ended up with a good guy. His explicit instructions were to not let her swim in the shark tank for too long.” His eyes turn wistful when he averts his gaze to opposite wall.
“She. Is. The. Shark. She’s the shark. All signs point to her ruling the fucking ocean. She doesn’t know what the word tank is, Mav. She gives me an ounce of control and it scares her away. I’m supposed to live like that for the rest of my life? Think about that for a second.” We’re similar, he has to agree that I’m right. I need partial control of everything in my life. It’s how I feel secure in my volatile world.
He sighs deeply. No contest there. “She’s going to the gala next month. If you don’t kick in her door before then, that is. She’ll be safe, too. Don’t worry about any of that business at her house. Everything is on the up and up.” He pats me on the knee and makes his way to where his bag is.
Out the window I see the grou
nd, my home. I let my mind go completely black. I don’t want to think of anything. There’s never disappointment in black. Sasha texts me back a paragraph calling me every single name in the book. I go ahead and delete her from my contact list and tilt my head back, closing my eyes to focus on nothing. Black. Black. Black. Morganna’s black hair falling down her naked back.
Not the type of black I’m going for. Fuck.
We land without incident and then get bussed back to our base where most family members and girlfriends are waiting to greet us. I stare blankly ahead and shoulder my way through the perfumed crowd filled with babies and children, not even bothering to make eye contact with anyone. My truck is waiting for me in the parking lot. No one is here to pick up ol’ Stevey today. It’s okay, because I’m finally blank—black. Nothing can affect me.
On my drive home, my hands itch to turn down her road. On autopilot I do take the damn turn and make a quick detour past her house. Her palace by the sea looks the same as it always has.
Except for the black “For Sale” sign blossoming next to her mailbox.
Lainey and Cody stopped by my place to pick me up before a gala to benefit our community’s foundation. I’m the fucking third ass wheel. Along with my team, I’m being honored tonight. I hate the fucking spotlight. Despise isn’t even a strong enough word.
I haven’t seen Morganna since I’ve arrived home. She’s stayed busy and away from her usual haunts. I’ve stayed true to my word and kept out of contact. With my time off I’ve practiced boxing multiple times a day, and went on a boys’ weekend to race expensive cars and drink too much liquor. Not at the same time, mind you. Maverick keeps me updated about Morg by talking about her to others in my presence. It’s for my benefit, but he won’t throw it in my face. He knows I crave any information. Her house doesn’t have any offers, because the market is shit. She wants to move into something smaller—more manageable.
Yanking at my tie, I mumble about being uncomfortable as we pull up to the venue. Black penguin suits and shimmering gowns line the sidewalk. The second I step from the backseat of the car I smell champagne and gold diggers. They have an exquisite scent: lies and silicone. I smile and nod as I pass a man older than my father with a woman who has to be eighteen or nineteen. You have to appreciate the effort something like that takes from both parties. The tables, all lined with white linens, have placards with our names etched to let us know where to sit. I spot my name, but decide to stand instead.
Lainey took too long to get ready so it looks as if the party is already in full swing. A band jamming out a faintly familiar song has several couples on the dance floor. I snag a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passes and swallow it in one full swig while clearing the room with my gaze. My stomach turns into knots when I see the back of a familiar black haired head. Adjusting my tie, I walk up to her back and tap her bare shoulder gently. She jumps, turns, and her full lips part in a smile.
“Steve,” she says, exhaling a pent up breath. She looks completely different than the last time I saw her—a stranger.
I take a step back. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I just wanted to say hello.”
Shaking her head she closes the wide gap between us. “No. No. I’m glad you did. I’ve thought a lot about you.” She lays her hand on my arm, waits a couple of seconds, and then wraps her arms around my waist, laying her head on my chest. It’s an odd sensation to be this close to another human. Especially a woman. I’ve steered clear of all of them since I’ve been home. It’s been tough, but I needed the self-imposed sabbatical from sex to clear my head—to figure out what my next step is.
Patting her back when I feel her sniffle, I say, “It’s okay Vivian. You’re safe now.” She leans back to look at my face, leaving her hands on my sides.
“Because of you.” Without blood caked all over her body, I admit she’s more than a little attractive. She’s beautiful. She reminds me of her even more now. A lump forms in my throat. Her hand darts up to grab a piece of her hair and she begins to twirl it furiously between shaking fingers. Not like her.
I press my lips into a firm line. “It was a group effort. I’m glad we could be of service, ma’am.”
Vivian blushes, a crimson color that reaches from her bare collarbone to the tip of her nose. She drops her arms. “I’m here to cover the event…and try to have some fun. I’m so glad that I ran into you. It’s the first time I’ve been in a place with this many people since recovering. It’s really hard,” she explains, using her hands. I notice several long, red scars on her arms and hands, and cringe.
Those mother fuckers.
“I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to see a familiar face.” Vivian shifts from one high-heeled foot to the other. Touching my arm lightly again, she asks, “Do you want to dance?”
Honestly, I was about to return to my seat and down about fifteen more flutes of champagne, but I remember that I’m supposed to be figuring out what my next step is and I don’t have a date.
“I mean, if you like to and know how,” she mumbles, looking to the side.
Smiling my biggest panther grin, I hold out my hand, palm up. “I thought you’d never ask.” Laughing makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. I like that, I think.
She wraps a hand in mine and leads the way to the middle of the dance floor. There aren’t that many couples out here now, but I’ve never been afraid to be the center of attention. I spin her around once, and then pull her close to me. The blush returns to her creamy skin.
Leaning my head down to her ear, I whisper, “I know how, Vivian.” She giggles and lets me lead us around the dance floor. Her happiness in spite of what’s happened to her is a breath of fresh air. I saw the reports. I know exactly what she went through. Watching her spin with crinkling eyes and gilded laughter gives me hope. Not just for her, but for anyone who has ever been broken.
I’m in the middle of admiring Vivian when I see her across the room, her gray gaze piercing my soul. My heart rate speeds and my head swims. Alex is next to her. Morganna’s red mouth hangs open as she stares in my direction. She’s assessing my situation, trying to be the judge and jury of my current situation. Let her.
I capture Vivian back in my arms when a slow song begins. Biting my lip, I return Morganna’s steely gaze. With my arms wrapped low around Vivian’s waist, I wink once and tilt my head down to whisper into my dance partner’s ear.
Then I whisk us to a different section of the dance floor so I can recover from a mere glimpse of the only woman I’ll ever love.
Morganna
He winked at me. While another woman was draped around his body like an accessory. I’m not sure what to think. Windsor told me he didn’t have a date, except there is a raven-haired carbon copy of me fawning all over him. It takes me a while to realize who she is. Her photo was in the online news articles. She’s the journalist the guys rescued. She cleans up well and the jealousy I feel watching him watch her makes me feel ill.
Alex returns with my champagne and I down it in a few sips, my eyes burning holes in Steven’s muscular back. My attraction to him is not only still there, it’s worse—lethal even. In a suit with his hair slicked to the side he reminds me of a brawny James Bond. Except even more appealing because he’s not fictional and I know what he’s truly capable of.
“Well, are you going to go say hello?” Alex asks, his soft voice barely audible over the music. I should, but my unfaltering confidence took a nosedive when I saw how happy Steven looks. He’s perfectly fine without me, or my useless apology.
Taking a bite of my dinner, I reply, “Maybe in a bit. He looks busy.” Alex agreed to come with me as a friend. I’m not so naive to think that he’s not hoping for more to come from it. He’s shaved and trimmed his shoulder length hair. It’s definitely a date in his mind. A real one. He excuses himself to use the restroom and I’m actually relieved at his absence.
“Go,” Windsor barks into my other ear. I glance to my right. “Rule number one. Never let them s
ee you sweat. You might as well have pit stains right now. That’d be a real shame, as that couture gown probably deserves something better,” she explains. I laugh as she throws one of my rules back in my face.
“I’m not sweating. I’m calculating my success rate,” I admit, glancing over her shoulder to Maverick sitting next to her. “What do you think?”
Maverick tears his gaze from Windsor’s naked shoulder. “I think he’s sealing the deal over there with Viv, if you want to know the truth. I also know he’s a twisted fucking mess over you and she happens to bear a striking resemblance to one, Morganna Sterns. If any part of you wants that man, I suggest you take your pit stains over there and tell him so.” He clears his throat. “Because life doesn’t wait. And that man has waited longer than any individual I’ve ever known.”
Rising from my seat without another word, I walk, high heels blazing a trail to stand behind Steven’s chair. The girl, Viv, is leaning toward him, cupping her hand around his ear. He laughs at whatever she says, and then like a predator scenting prey, he turns his head and catches sight of me. The girl leans away and turns to face me as well. I see the second recognition lights her face. She’s a journalist. She knows who I am.
I wave at her. “Do you mind if I borrow your date for a second?” I ask, refusing to make eye contact with Steven.
Her eyes widen as she glances at him and then back to me. “Of course. I’m not his date anyways,” Viv explains, flustered.
Turning to face Steven, I narrow my eyes. “A word, Mr. Warner?” He strokes his chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes searching my face for something. For truth.
Set In Stone Page 20
