Текст книги "Imperfect"
Автор книги: Cherry Shephard
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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
I sag against the bar and run a hand through my tangled curls. It’s almost closing time and, as usual, I’m exhausted. Smiling weakly at the last couple as they exit, the sound of laughter draws my attention to the other side of the room.
I watch as Stone flicks a stray piece of popcorn at Ruth, feeling my gut twist as the young girl brushes her hair away from her face, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth as she laughs. Well, why shouldn’t he like her? She’s gorgeous. I hate being jealous of my friend, but even more than that, I hate the reason behind my jealousy. I have to face the facts: I’m attracted to Stone.
“Shannon,” he calls out, waving me over.
I wipe my hands on my jeans and walk over to them, taking a seat at one of the tables.
“Stone was just telling me about his time in the Army,” Ruth says, gazing up at him adoringly.
I feel like throwing up. “How nice,” I reply with a weak smile. “It’s getting late, though. Aren’t you tired?”
“Not at all.” Ruth beams. “We were just talking about driving into town to find a club.”
I stare at Stone, who raises a questioning eyebrow at me as one side of his lips cock up into a smirk. Jackass. I ignore the quiver of longing that shoots into my center and makes my clit pulse with desire. “Oh,” I say, trying to sound disinterested. “It’s been a while since I was in town; it is an hour’s drive away, after all.”
“You should come with us,” Stone invites, that smirk blossoming into a grin.
“No,” I respond, shaking my head. “I have too much work to do. You guys go ahead.” I can’t go back to town. I swore when I left there the first time that I’d never go back. Not after everything that happened . . .
“Oh, come on, Shan,” Ruth pleads, grabbing my hand across the table. “You never do anything fun.”
I can’t help but laugh at Ruth’s pretty pout. “Okay, okay,” I say, my eyes crinkling as I smile, even though I feel dead inside. “I’ll catch up with you guys shortly.”
“Great!” Ruth squeals, jumping up and down as she claps her hands excitedly.
Stone narrows his eyes at me. “You sure you’re okay?” Shit. Does he notice how pale I am? Maybe I can pretend to be sick and just go home.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll just close up the bar and get changed. I’ll meet you guys back here in an hour.”
“Come on,” Ruth says impatiently, tugging on Stone’s arm as she leads him out of the bar.
“I’ll catch up with you soon,” he promises, watching as Ruth leaves. I keep my eyes trained on him as he walks over to the door and locks it closed behind her before turning back to face me. Why is he still here? My breath is audible in the quiet room, as are his slow, methodical steps. My pulse races as every click of his boots on the hard wood floor sends a jolt of awareness straight to my center. He stops directly in front of me and I tilt my head up to gaze into his dark eyes that are fixated on my suddenly dry mouth. My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I hear something akin to a groan escape his throat. “What are you doing?” I ask in a strangled whisper. He’s so close I can feel the heat from his skin against my chest.
“Do you have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he asks in a low voice, his fingertip tracing a slow path down my arm. I shiver involuntarily and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from his.
“No,” I whisper, the word sticking in my throat as his finger trails lazily to the top of my t-shirt, dipping lightly between my small breasts. Stone grabs my hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, pressing it against himself. “I’ve been like this since I first walked in and saw your ass sticking up in the air, waiting for me,” he growls. Heat pools between my thighs and my eyes almost roll back in my head as I press my hand firmly against his hard cock. He feels much too large for one hand, and I slowly begin to stroke him through his jeans. Stone lets out a loud groan and throws his head back as I increase the pace. I know anyone could walk past the bar at any time, and that knowledge both excites and terrifies me. My hand slips into the space at the top of his jeans, feeling desperately for the bare skin beneath, but a growl rips from his chest as he forcibly grabs my hand and pulls it away. His other hand fists in my hair and drags my head back as his mouth covers mine. I part my lips in surprise and his tongue darts inside, wrestling with my own. I feel hot . . . so fucking hot. We’re both wearing too many clothes.
As though reading my mind, Stone’s hands slip beneath my ass and he lifts me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me a short distance across the room, his lips never leaving mine until he places my feet back on the ground. He rips his mouth away and I dreamily open my eyes to look at him, quickly burning under his heated gaze.
“Stone,” I whimper, clutching at his shirt with my small fists.
“Shannon,” he says hotly. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“I know,” I whisper, my eyes closing as I feel his hands on the front of my jeans. A second later they’re shoved down my hips along with my underwear, and he lifts my feet one by one as I step out of them and kick off my shoes. My shirt and bra goes next, and he groans as he stares at me. “Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful it hurts to look at you,” he growls as his mouth covers one nipple and sucks. Hard. I yelp at the sudden spike of pain, but it’s quickly forgotten as his tongue laves wet circles against my heated flesh. My head tilts back as he gives the other breast the same attention, cupping it in his large hand and lifting it to his lips.
“Stone,” I murmur, threading my fingers through his dark hair. He releases my nipple with a pop and picks me up, laying me back against the old mechanical bull, my legs splayed wide apart, spreading me open to his gaze. The steel sends a cold shock down my spine and I cry out, arching my back, but he presses a hand against my stomach, forcing me back down.
“Are you ready?” he asks in a low voice. I lift my head to watch him lower his face between my legs . . .
Then he stops. He fucking stops.
Every nerve ending in my body is screaming, and I’m silently begging him to snake his tongue around my clit and suck it. But he fucking stops. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling my scent before he stands up and gently helps me to my feet. I stand there staring at him, covering my breasts and my pussy with my hands, embarrassed. “Stone?” I squeak, wishing he’d say something. Anything. He lifts his eyes to me, and I can swear that for a brief second I see a flash of regret cross his pinched features. He leans down and scoops my clothes up from the floor, tossing them at me. They fall uselessly to the floor as I continue to cover my nudity, my skin flushed red in humiliation.
“Get dressed,” he says gruffly, turning his back on me as though he’s disgusted by what he sees. My face flaming, I stare at his back, growing angrier by the second. Who the fuck does he think he is? “Stone,” I snarl. He turns, and I wipe the questioning look off his face with a firm slap. A look I can’t quite describe flashes across his face, then he turns on his heel and stalks over to the front door of the bar. It slams shut behind him and I race over, throwing the lock before sinking down to the ground, resting my back against the door and my head in my hands.
What the fuck was that? I can’t believe that not only did he have me naked – but I let him. I shiver as I glance down at myself and realize I’m still naked. Crawling across the floor, I drag my jeans and shirt back on as I stand up and try to fix my unruly curls, giving up in about ten seconds and letting them cascade over my shoulders. I slump on the floor and stare blindly around the bar. I’m not sure which is worse: Allowing Stone to get to me, or his ultimate rejection. Humiliation gives way to anger, and I clench my small hands into fists. How fucking dare Stone make me second-guess myself. How dare he make me feel like I’m not good enough. So what if he doesn’t want me, it’s not like I want him. Liar, my mind taunts. You’re such a fucking liar. I groan again as I remember my promise to Ruth about going to the club tonight. I haven’t been back to town since I escaped from Troy a year ago. Am I ready to go back now? Can I face my fears? I briefly consider faking a stomach ache, crawling into bed and hiding. But there’s a slightly perverse side of me that doesn’t want to leave Ruth alone with Stone. I have to go, even if it kills me.
And it just might.
The front door opens, and I look up as the woman from last night steps in.
“I’m sorry,” she says, seeing the empty place. “Are you closed?”
“No, of course not,” I tell her, quickly getting to my feet and hurrying over to the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Just a glass of white wine, thank you,” she says, taking a crumpled ten-dollar bill from her purse and putting it on the bar.
As I pour the wine, I glance over at her as she releases a deep cough that seems to resonate from her chest. Her hands are shaking as she takes a clean tissue from her purse, dabbing at her mouth before quickly scrunching it up and dropping it back in her purse. But not before I see the blood.
“Grace, isn’t it?” I ask with a smile, placing the glass on the bar and taking the money.
The woman takes an appreciative sip and nods, closing her eyes as a quick look of pain flashes across her face. I don’t know how, but she looks even older today than she did last night. At least forty. There are dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t slept, and without the added benefits of makeup, I can see fine lines around her eyes and mouth. I ring the drink up and hand over the change. “Are you all right?” I ask, watching Grace carefully. The woman is much too pale.
“I’m fine,” Grace says with a weak smile. “I haven’t been feeling too well lately.”
“Where’s your son?” I ask.
Grace takes another sip of wine and puts the glass back down on the bar, clasping her trembling fingers together as she speaks. “He’s having a sleepover tonight,” she explains quietly. “I thought it’d be good for him.”
“Grace,” I say, lightly touching the older woman’s hand. “You’re not well. I’d have to be blind to miss that. Let me take you to the doctor.”
Tears spring to Grace’s eyes, and she brushes them away impatiently. “I’m fine, I promise,” she says, giving me a tight smile.
I’m not convinced. Grace is clearly not fine, but it’s not my place to pry. “Okay,” I give in, nodding my head. “But if you change your mind, you tell me, okay?”
“Thank you, Shannon,” Grace says, patting my hand before draining the rest of her wine and standing on unsteady feet. “Thank you for the wine.”
“Listen,” I start as the woman turns around.
Grace pauses and turns back to look at me. “A couple of us are going into town tonight. I know you’re not feeling well, but maybe some company would change that. I’m sure Ruth and Stone wouldn’t mind.”
Grace flinches, but smiles and shakes her head. “Thank you, but no. I think the best thing I can do for now is just go to bed and try to sleep.”
“If you’re sure,” I say, watching as Grace makes her way to the door and steps outside. I have a nagging feeling in my gut that the woman needs help. My cell phone beeps in the back pocket of my jeans and I pull it out, grinning when I see it’s a text from Keets.
K: Wot U doin’ 2nite?
S: Going 2 town with Ruth & Stone
K: U sure that’s wise?
S: It’s just a few drinks, don’t B such a worrywart
K: What bar? I’m coming
S: Dunno. B @ Saddles 30mins
K: K. C U then
I pocket my phone and grab my jacket from behind the bar. After locking the door securely behind me, I slide behind the wheel of my car and drive the short distance to my apartment. As I enter through the front door, I strip off my jacket and flick on the living room light. The apartment isn’t much, just one bedroom above a bakery on the main street. I’ve tried to make it as homey as possible, with white lace curtains and small knick-knacks on the countertops. Walking to my bedroom, I flip on the light and rummage through the dresser at the side of the room. My fingers hover over clean jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, and a grin spreads across my face as a deliciously naughty idea pops into my head. This is the first time I’ve been to a club in a year, and I’m going to look the part.
At just twenty-nine years old, I’m no stranger to the club scene, but as I towel my curls dry after a quick shower and change into a black leather mini-skirt and shiny gold top that’s completely backless, save for the tiny string that ties it together, I begin to wonder if I can really do it.
The last time I’d been at a nightclub, Troy had caused such a scene we’d been thrown out. He hated when another man looked at his woman, and he’d never had a problem punching someone he thought looked at them the wrong way.
What happened with Stone this afternoon flashes in my head. He’d been a predator, pouncing in my weakest moment. Anger boils in my blood as I think of how he used me, then humiliated me. I shouldn’t go tonight, I should curl up under the blankets and just sleep it off. I’m too hurt, too angry . . . But it’s too late to back out now.
Quickly applying a coat of pale pink gloss to my plump lips, I fluff my curls, selecting a few to pin back off my face. Pulling on a pair of knee-high, black leather lace-up boots, I complete the look with a pair of large gold hoop earrings.
I’m ready.
The club is jumping, and everywhere I look people are dancing. But I only have eyes for her.
My cock has been impossibly hard from the minute I saw her in that tiny skirt. What the hell kind of game does she think she’s playing? Doesn’t she know every single man in the club has his eyes fixed firmly on her ass? This afternoon I’d fucked up. I’d wanted her so badly that I hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences until it was almost too late. She'd been fucking perfect, naked and spread across the back of that mechanical bull. I slip my hand under the bar and adjust my jeans as my cock grows long at the memory. She’d smelled amazing, and I’d wanted nothing more than to bury my face in that sweet pussy until I felt her come apart under my tongue.
Instead, I convinced myself that she deserves better than a wounded, angry soldier.
She’s angry, and I don’t blame her. My hand drifts up to touch the cheek she slapped today, a faint smile playing at the corners of my mouth. She’s a little wildcat, that’s for damn sure.
I take a long swallow of my beer as I watch her dance with Ruth, trying to squash the jealousy that churns in my stomach as she grinds her ass against her friend . . . I wish it were my cock. She’s so damn beautiful that I can’t stop staring. My eyes narrow as I watch a slick, young man slide up beside her, grab her hand and spin her toward him. I see the shock on her face as the man grabs her hips and grinds against her. It takes a minute to find her rhythm but then Shannon is dancing with him, allowing his hands to grip her ass as they move. Her eyes seek mine out across the room. A silent challenge. I don’t need to be told twice. Draining my beer, I slam the empty can down on the bar as I stand up and make my way through the dancing couples. My eyes are fixed firmly on her. Shannon’s eyes widen as I get closer, and she glances at the drunken man still holding her. Does she think he’ll save her? I snort. Tapping the man on the shoulder, I indicate to Shannon. “Let me cut in,” I say, staring the man down. Unfortunately, the man is so drunk he doesn’t listen to reason. “Shove off, old man,” the guy slurs, turning his attention back to Shannon. I don’t ask a second time. The guy never sees it coming. When my fist connects with his jaw, he goes flying onto the floor.
“What the fuck, Stone?” Shannon shrieks, staring at me. Her eyes are wide with shock, glittering with fury. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Nothing,” I mutter gruffly, drawing her into my arms. She struggles against me, but I hold her fast. My large hand presses against the bare skin on her back and I close my eyes, not caring if she can feel my hard cock through my jeans. The music changes to a slow number, and I feel her begin to relax. This is what I want, what I’ve needed for so long. We sway in time to the beat and by the time she lifts her head up, there’s no question in my mind that she feels it. Her eyes have an almost dream-like essence as she looks up at me through her heavy fringe of dark lashes. She smells fucking delicious, a warm mixture of vanilla, honey and some kind of flower. Shannon tucks her head beneath my chin, and I breathe in the scent of her hair. Unable to suppress my desire any longer, I tilt her chin gently up, my eyes searching hers. Shannon’s eyes slowly drift closed, her lips slightly part, and I take that as my cue.
I kiss her. Right in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by other couples, I kiss Shannon as though she's a well in a desert, and I'm dying of thirst. All too soon, though, the kiss is over. Interrupted. I’m swung around by the arm and I duck, narrowly missing being hit by the drunken guy I’d punched just moments earlier. I watch, warily, as the guy circles me, staggering slightly on his feet.
Fourteen years of combat training takes over, and I crouch down in a defensive stance as I wait for the man to make his move. People crowd around us and I can hear Shannon pleading with me to stop, but I’m already back in Afghanistan, facing down an enemy. The man dives at me and I expertly kick my right leg out, knocking the man’s legs out from beneath him. A slight grin forms on my lips as I dive on top of the man, punching him in the face and quite possibly breaking his nose. I’m in my element. This is me; this is what I was born to do. I’m a trained fighter, a born fighter. I feel the bones crumble like dirt beneath my knuckles, and the man’s head drops like a sack of potatoes.
The club is dead silent, and I’m acutely aware of people standing around me, staring at the scene in shock. I gradually get to my feet, my chest heaving as I turn in a slow circle. My eyes fall on Shannon, and I flinch at the fury I see on her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she growls, her voice unusually loud in the silent club. I instinctively know I’ve done the wrong thing, but I’m not sorry for it. I watch as she kneels down next to the man and tends to his wounds. Another, older man also kneels beside her. “Keep the pressure on it,” he’s saying. “An ambulance is on its way.”
“Should we call the cops?” a man yells in the background.
“No,” the injured man says, struggling to sit up. “No, no cops.”
“Shh,” Shannon soothes him, pushing the hair back off his face. “You need to lie still and wait for the ambulance.”
I watch the exchange, a sick feeling settling in the bottom of my stomach. Why is she protecting this idiot who practically mauled her? And why did she allow it to happen? I have to get the fuck away from her. I feel her accusing eyes on me as I turn away and head to the bar, holding my hand up to the bartender for a fresh beer. “Are you sure that’s wise?” Keets asks, sliding onto the bar stool next to me. I look at my friend and swivel on the stool to face him.
“What does it matter?” I ask, gesturing to Shannon, who’s back on the dance floor with Ruth. The injured man has been taken to the hospital under protest, and the club seems to be back to normal. Except for the scathing looks Shannon continues to throw my way.
“I know it can’t be good to drink that much beer,” Keets says, gesturing to the bartender for his own drink.
“Yeah, well, desperate times, my friend,” I tell him, patting him on the shoulder as I grab my fresh beer and drain half of it immediately.
“Why are you doing this?” Keets demands. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask. My voice is starting to slur, and I have to squint to see him in front of me.
“I saw you out there,” he states, his face twisting into an ugly scowl. “Didn’t we have this chat the other night? She’s not for you.”
“Dude, it was just a dance.”
“You just punched the shit out of some guy for dancing with her!” Keets is livid.
“I punched the shit out of some guy for pawing at her like she was a piece of fucking meat,” I yell as I stand up, towering over Keets on the barstool.
“Why do you care?” Keets stands up, back in my face.
“Why do you not?” I shoot back.
We stand there in silence, neither one of us wanting to back down. Finally, Keets looks away, visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. “Whatever,” he says quietly. “I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”
I attempt to calm down with slow, deep breaths. “I know, man,” I respond. “I appreciate it. But you need to stop. I’m fine, and I promise I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Shannon.”
Keets nods slowly. “All right,” he agrees.
We hug each other awkwardly, patting one another on the back as we part. Keets returns to the dance floor, and a smile spreads across my face as I watch my old friend politely incline his head to Ruth and offer her his hand. My eyes move over to Shannon who stands there, a glare on her beautiful face as she looks back at me, not even attempting to mask her anger.
I’m in deep shit.
