Текст книги "Dirty English"

Автор книги: Ilsa Madden-Mills

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NOTE TO SELF: arriving at the first frat party of the year at the Tau house with a black eye and without your usual girlfriend—now ex—raises a lot of questions and a shit-ton of stares.

The black eye was from a fight the night before. Right when it had looked like I was toast, I’d got in a heavy hook straight to the guy’s jaw and a high kick to the gut. He’d gone down like a sack of bricks. It was my third win since uni had ended in May.

I rubbed my sore fists against my jeans.

The pain was worth every cent I’d taken home.

“Where’s Nadia?” one of the honorary frat little sisters asked with a big smile when I came in the door.

I grunted. “Not with me. I’d check with the men’s tennis team.”

Her eyebrows went up as I marched on by. She obviously hadn’t heard that Whitman’s It couple had broken up over the summer. I’d ended it when I’d walk in on Nadia bouncing on top of some other guy’s cock. I clenched my fists, remembering her deception. She’d known exactly when I’d be walking through that door, and she’d timed it perfectly, all part of her plan to force me to freak out and do what she wanted. Buy her a ring, go to law school, be like my wanker father. Never going to happen.

Her manipulations had failed, and I’d dumped her.

To borrow a saying from my dead mum, she was all fur coat and no knickers.

Most days I felt like my heart had recovered, but my faith in women was shit.

As far as I knew, Nadia was still with her new guy, some fancy tennis player from Brazil. Donatello or Michelangelo or something. Ninja Turtle? Yeah.

I pushed thoughts of her away and entered the large den which on a normal day would have a row of couches, end tables, and beer bottles, but now had a mass of bodies gyrating on a makeshift dance floor. Music blared, a strobe light ricocheted around the room, and red Solo cups littered the floor.

I wasn’t a member of this frat—I didn’t have time to get rat-arsed every night—but my twin brother, Dax, was the Tau President, so it was understood I was always invited.

Questions kept coming from partygoers as I crossed the room.

“Hey, Nadia isn’t with you?” one of the girls asked. That’s right. She’s a bloody slag and I’m done with her.

“Dude, what happened to your eye?” a guy called as I passed. I sent him a dark look. Seriously? You don’t know about the underground fighting? You must be new at Whitman.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the bar and twisted off the top to take a big drink.

“Dirty English is in the house! About fucking time,” Dax called out as he jumped down the staircase and landed on the bottom floor, a distance of about seven feet.

“Bugger me, you’re going to kill yourself doing that.”

He tossed his head back and let out a deep laugh. “Me? Dangerous? Look in the mirror, arsehole.”

I sighed, half annoyed, half glad to see him. Polar opposites, he was the happy-go-lucky one who partied while I was the serious one who dreamed of teaching mixed martial arts at my own gym and maybe getting a run at the UFC.

I peered into a face nearly identical to mine, except for the scruffy beard he had going on. His grin was lopsided.

“You’re snockered, brother,” I said.

He shrugged, ignoring me. “Where have you been? This party is off the chain, and I need my wingman.”

I grinned. “Whoa. You’re my wingman.”

His lips twitched. “Let’s try it out then. Pick a hottie and let’s see who she wants more? I’m up on you by three already.”

“You’re keeping score?”

When you have a twin, everything’s a competition.

Freshmen year, we’d pretended to be the other one for a week, even going so far as to wear long sleeves so no one saw my tattoos or Dax’s lack of. We’d switched up girls for the weekend too. Damn crazy. They’d dumped us when they discovered the truth. I didn’t blame them. But lately those days seemed like a distant memory. At twenty-one, I was close to graduation and about to be out on my own while he’d still be here trying to finish his degree.

Dax ruffled his hair back and checked his breath by holding his hand up and blowing. He rolled his neck. “Alright, the next pretty bird that walks through that door is up for grabs. The first one to get a kiss wins.”

“Stakes?” I asked.

“The usual.”

I smirked. “It’s your dollar.”

His eyes gleamed. “It’s not about the money, brother.”

I laughed. Dax had a way about him that always made you grin even when your ship was sinking fast.

Just then, I heard the front door open and saw Blake, one of the frat brothers, shooting out of his seat like he’d been shot in the arse by an arrow. Lorna, who’d been sitting in his lap, fell to the floor in a heap. I leaned down to help her up. Blake was a bit of a mystery to me, but Lorna was a popular girl and most guys knew her, me included.

“Ouch, love. You good?”

She dusted herself off, annoyance on her face as she took in the girls who’d entered the house. “Thanks. God, Blake is such a freak when it comes to her. I thought he was going to be with me tonight, but then he tells me she’s coming. I just don’t get it. She’s not even that pretty. She’s weird and slutty.” She crossed her arms and glared. “He sees her across the quad and practically runs to her.”

A bit more than I wanted to know, but I smiled to soften the blow of her being rejected.

I turned to see why the room had gone quiet.

Or maybe it just seemed that way to me.

She sauntered straight in the room like she belonged there, yet the bravado was fake—I could tell by the fluttering eyelashes and the way she clutched her purse like a lifeline.

I recognized her right away although I don’t think she’d ever looked at me twice in our years at Whitman. Which was surprising. This was a fairly small, albeit prestigious, uni, and I’m used to girls flirting with me in the hallways and classrooms. After all, it’s hard to miss the guy with the English accent who was voted Whitman’s Sexiest Man on Campus by the sororities. But this girl, she lived in a bubble, and seeing her out at a frat party was like spotting a unicorn.

Her name was Elizabeth Bennett, and the only reason I knew that much was because we’d had a class together last year and the professor had called roll.

It was a memorable name.

I remembered turning to check out the girl with a heroine’s name, but she’d bent her head over a textbook already. She’d sat in the back of the class all semester and never once spoken to me—or to anyone. Most people said she was stuck-up. Some guys even claimed she’d shagged them in her room and then had never spoken to them again.

I didn’t get it. Or her. But I’d admit to a certain fascination.

She was beautiful in a chilly don’t-touch-me kind of way with white-blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Dark eyebrows rose up dramatically and accentuated almond-shaped eyes, making the pale blue pop from clear across the room. Her lips were painted a deep red, and a sprinkling of freckles dotted her nose—decidedly, the only sweet thing about her.

From beside me, Dax whistled under his breath. “Bloody hell, who is that? I pick her for a good seeing to.”

I edged in front of him. “I saw her first,” I said.

I STOOD IN front of the Tau fraternity front door and gave myself a mental pep talk.

So what if this was my first college party? I had this.

It may have taken me two years, but walking into the biggest party on campus would prove that Colby had not won.

I could still be around alcohol and partying and not freak out.

Hadn’t I watched Animal House and Revenge of the Nerds this week to prepare myself for the onslaught of college-age shenanigans?

Feeling fidgety, I adjusted the sterling silver bangles I wore each day. Two inches wide and embellished with my own infinity design, I’d made them in a metal working class before Colby happened. Now, I used them to hide the bundle of scars on my wrists where I’d tried to kill myself two days after the hotel.

I rubbed the cool metal, reminding myself I had two goals tonight.

The first was to walk into this frat party; the second was to find a guy, take him home, and christen my new place.

Any sober guy would do.

Like there would be any sober guys here.

Still …

Something was off tonight, as if a heavy presence lingered in the air. Fate warning me that life was about to get rocky? Was I making a huge mistake by coming here?

“I can’t believe you’re actually going to walk in that door. On a normal Friday night, you’d be eating delivery pizza and avoiding my calls.”

I took a breath and nodded.

Just be normal. Okay, don’t be normal ’cause normal for you is being alone and grumpy and watching Downton Abby episodes curled on Granny’s cat couch.

Just … be cool, I told myself. Plus, if I didn’t go in this party, Shelley and Blake were going to have me committed to some psyche ward for antisocial behavior.

We walked in and Blake rushed to meet us. He wore his fraternity jersey, looking boyishly handsome with his auburn hair and big grin. A big guy, he’d played football in high school and now played linebacker for the Whitman Wildcats. We’d dated in high school for about a second, but Colby had come along and all other guys had faded into the background.

His eyes gleamed with what I took as pride. “Hot damn, you made it! How are my two favorite girls?”

I smiled up at him. “The question is how’s the party? Anyone OD yet? Human sacrifices going on in the back?” I pretended to be casual, but I stood on my tiptoes and peeked around his shoulders as I spoke, checking out the scene. I didn’t let my gaze linger too long on anyone. My nerves were taut and ready to pop, and I hadn’t even seen the entire place.

He shook his head, giving me a pointed look like he saw through my jokes. “Nah, we keep a tight watch on those things.” He wrapped us both up in a big brawny hug, his rosy cheeks making him look almost cherubic. “I’m damned glad you’re here. And I promise to take care of you.” He tweaked me on the nose. “You especially. Now stop waffling and come on in.”

The room blared with music and people stood everywhere. It was hot and noisy and my chest tightened. I skated my eyes through the crowd when all I wanted to do was run like hell. Thank goodness we swept on through to get out of the throng, and he led us out the patio doors to the backyard. Air. I inhaled and then choked on a cloud of perfume as one of the fraternity sisters stopped in front of us. Lorna something. I’d seen her around Blake before, and judging from the evil eye she sent me, I wasn’t her favorite person. Whatever. I didn’t care. Blake and I were just friends, but because we spent a lot of time together, some people might assume we were more.

She slid her hands over Blake’s chest. “Hey baby, don’t you want to come back inside where the real party is? No one fun is out here.”

Shelley giggled and I kept my face a mask. Cool. Calm. I’d been around girls like her all through prep school. Pretty rich girls. The best way to deal with them was to never let them see you get flustered. Be a bitch right back. I smiled at her tightly as Blake leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She flounced off to go back inside, a little extra swing in her hips.

He crooked our arms together and showed me around, pride evident in his voice as he stopped periodically to introduce me to several of his brothers. Shelley knew most everyone already.

I took a look around the area, taking in the lit tiki torches, a makeshift dance floor with a DJ and strobe lights, and a huge pool. People roamed everywhere, most of them popular and Greek and not part of my crowd. A girl in a tiny red bikini did a cannonball into the deep end and came up holding her top. Almost immediately, guys whooped loudly and jumped in after her.

“This party is on steroids,” I murmured.

“You good?” Shelley asked.

I nodded.

A tall guy—about six three—with dark hair and a jawline that could rival any movie star stopped in front of Blake. He did a bow thing and came up with a cocky grin and checked us out blatantly.

Shelley pushed her well-endowed boobs out. A notorious guy-chaser, she loved guys and was quite, er, free with her love. Didn’t matter who they were. Tall, short, rich, poor, black, white, amphibian …

“Who’re your hot friends, mate?” the guy asked in an English accent, his words sleek in their delivery. Lofty.

My eyebrows went straight up, my interest piqued. Yes! I loved the way he talked.

Blake immediately stiffened. “They’re with me, Dax, so hands off.”

Dax? Nice name.

I shot Blake a quick look, but he avoided my eyes. He was a bit possessive when it came to protecting me, and a few times over the past few years I’d had to tell him to back down. I started to lean in and tell him it was fine, but the guy spoke first.

“What? Can’t I even say hi?” He turned dark gray eyes at me. “You. Do you eat sugar all the time? ’Cause you are the sweetest thing I’ve seen all night.”

A surprised snort came from me. “That’s the worst pickup line ever.”

He looked crestfallen. “Ah, angel, don’t laugh—or snort—at me. You’re killing my fragile ego.”

“Truth hurts.”

He grinned, not deterred. “Okay, this isn’t a line, but have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

I stuck my hand out. The more forthright I was, the easier it made things. “I’m Elizabeth Bennett, and we’ve never met because I’d definitely have remembered your accent. Unless it was in class and we never spoke …” I arched my brow. “What’s your major? I’m in the art department mostly.”

He grimaced. “Psychology, but I don’t go to class much. Maybe it was the Sigma party last year?”

“The one with the goats on the roof? Ah, no.”

“The Delta toga party? The one where the cops came?” He chuckled. “Don’t recall much of that one, although I do remember waking up in a pair of women’s underwear.”

Oh. “Sadly, no, but I did see the students who were arrested on the news.”

He tossed back his head to laugh, calling attention to the strong lines of his throat. I let my eyes take more of him in, checking out the skinny jeans and the Vital Rejects band shirt that fit snugly to his muscled chest. He was gorgeous.

He knew I was checking him out, because he smirked, a knowing glint in his eye. He nudged his head at the crowded dance floor. “Wanna go dance?”

“Ever heard of taking it slow, Dax?” Blake snapped. “She just got here. Give her some space.”

Shelley ignored Blake and looked at me expectantly, obviously wanting me to say yes, but I shook my head at Dax. “Sorry. I’m not your type.” Best to rip the Band-Aid off fast.

“I’m every girl’s type.” His eyes skated over my white strapless sundress. “Especially beautiful angels who just fell from heaven.”

“Don’t angels have wings?” I asked. “Kinda hard to fall when technically you can fly.”

He waggled his eyebrows and held up the Solo cup he carried in his hand. “No one’s splitting hairs here, besides my lines get better the more I drink.”

Ah.

I stiffened but nodded. Trying to be polite. “Hmm, well, I usually spend my Friday nights doing homework while I wear granny panties. I also binge watch Masterpiece Theatre, crochet knit hats, and do calculus when I get bored. I don’t usually come to parties. I don’t even talk to guys who drink, so I’m really not your type.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just one dance, love. We don’t have to get married.”

“Good thing I’m stone-cold sober. Looks like I’m the winner here, brother. You can pay me later,” said another accented voice behind me, and I whipped around to see a replica of Dax. Only with bigger muscles.

Another Brit?

Only this one’s voice was huskier. Sexier.

“Twins?” I squeaked.

They smirked and nodded simultaneously. In the same exact manner.

I blinked. Oh. They were double trouble, sex on two sticks.

The sober one pushed dark brown hair off his forehead and stared at me. His face was classically handsome, the jawline angular and defined, but that’s where the carbon copy stopped. Every inch of this guy’s arms not covered by his black shirt were covered in colorful tattoos, and I got lost trying to trace the designs, from ivy branches to skulls. My eyes paused on the blue dragonfly tattoo on his neck. Odd seeing something so light-hearted on such a bulky dude.

He wore tight designer jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a shirt that clung to a chest that had obviously seen its fair share of the inside of a gym. Intense was the word that came to mind when his silver-gray eyes met mine, sweeping over my face, lingering on my bare shoulders. Warmth spread and I got hot as if I’d just stuck my finger in a socket.

What was that?

One thing for sure, he was pure hot male and if you could put it in a bottle, you’d make millions.

Get away from the hotness and tell your ovaries to settle down, my brain yelled, but I stupidly ignored it.

Something about him had me riveted. Maybe it was the black eye.

I immediately pictured him in a bar, turning over chairs and tables and kicking other big dudes’ asses.

I took a tiny step back. Remember the rules. No hot guys. No popular guys. No rich guys. I was fairly certain he’d check all those boxes.

The sober twin flashed even, white teeth. “In case you’re wondering, I’m the oldest by two minutes. I also get better grades, as you might have guessed.” He tossed an arm around his brother and rubbed his head good-naturedly.

“Yeah, but I’m the babe magnet,” Dax said. “You’re just coasting on my bloody coattails, trying to pluck the birds I found first.”

The bigger one laughed. “Keep dreaming, baby bro. I don’t need to coast. I am the sexiest guy on campus.”

“Whatever. I’m Dax, in case you missed it,” he said to me with a grin.

I looked at the other twin. “And you are?”

“Declan,” he murmured in his low voice, his accented words like silk, the vowels soft and rounded.

I shivered.

Declan.

One simple word that I felt all the way to the roots of my scalp.

Butterflies danced in my tummy. I yelled at them to settle down, but they didn’t listen.

His full, sensuous lips kicked up in a grin as I repeated it. “That’s a beautiful name,” I said, “the way it rolls off my tongue.”

“It’s Gaelic and means full of goodness. Ironic since most call me trouble.” He smiled. “Elizabeth, right?”

I nodded and he put his hand out for me to take. I rested mine in his much larger warm one, not surprised by the tingles that zipped down my spine. Reluctantly he released my hand, his fingertips sliding against my palm in a sensuous sweep. I let out an uneven breath I must have been holding since the moment he stepped into my vision.

Was his reaction the same as mine?

His facial expression hadn’t changed at our first touch, yet he’d moved closer to me, the expensive scent of his woodsy cologne permeating my senses.

The conversation picked back up with the others, but Declan and I just stood there silently. I glanced at him. He glanced at me. He smiled. I smiled. And right there it felt like we were having an intimate moment, just the two of us as we stared at each other while the world carried on. His gaze kept coming back to me, almost inquisitive as if he wanted to ask me something but didn’t know how. There was a connection between us, and I’m not stupid, I know it wasn’t love at first sight—maybe lust—but he was definitely the hottest guy I’d been this close to in two years.

He was exactly what I needed tonight, the complete opposite of Colby’s blond and preppy Ralph Lauren looks. Perhaps it was time to take my rules a step further, to prove to myself I could be with whomever I wanted and keep control of the situation.

As long as the fortress of my heart remained under lock and key, I was good.

He turned away from me when a pretty girl walked up to him, and just like that I changed my mind. Player?

He looked back to me a minute or two later, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry about that. I taught her some self-defense moves last year, and she was telling me how she’d used them on her older brother this summer.”

Oh. I took in his broad chest and biceps. “You’re a trainer?”

He nodded, an earnest expression on his face. “Yeah. I’ve taught in some of the local gyms, but I’m opening my own soon.”

“Is that how you got your black eye?”

He considered me carefully. “No.”

I studied him harder, my gaze boring into the masculine planes of his face. Instinctively, I reached up and delicately touched a red place near his hairline. A cut? He winced and I immediately dropped my hand. “So sorry, I—I don’t know why I did that.”

Stop touching the hot guy! I yelled in my head.

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“You use your fists a lot?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Dangerous. Sexy. Trouble.

Why was I still talking to him?

Blake sidestepped between Declan and me in such a way that it felt forced. “You want a drink, Elizabeth? There’s beer and some punch, although it’s probably spiked. I can scrounge around and find you something though.”

“A water would be great.”

“Yes,” Shelley said emphatically. “She may not drink, but I do. Bring it to mama. Anything will do.”

Declan surprised me by saying he’d get them for us, and I watched him move away, his lithe frame moving with the easy grace of someone used to holding back power like a sexy jungle cat who prowled around and took what he wanted …

I’d like to pet that jungle cat, rub his silky fur and make him purr …

I slapped myself mentally.

Jungle cat?Make him purr? What was wrong with me tonight?

“Don’t mess with him,” Blake whispered in my ear as if he’d read my train of thought.

I shot a look over at Dax and Shelley to make sure they hadn’t heard his comment, but they were involved in a discussion about music.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?”

He narrowed his eyes, a flash of annoyance on his face. “Are you interested?”

“Get real. I study. I work. I sleep.” Occasionally I have sex.

He nodded, his expression growing serious. “Maybe it’s time to move on and trust someone.”

I arched a brow. “But not Declan?”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. He held his hands up as if to placate me. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s cool. But you’re exactly his type, physically any way, and I saw the way he looked at you. He’s on the rebound, and I just don’t want you to get hurt. He’s a senior and popular—and well, no one knows you.”

“Wow. That hurt. Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I crossed my arms.

He groaned. “It’s just … I’ve seen him go through girls like frat boys and their beer. He’s a user and once he’s done with you, he’ll toss you out. You need a nice guy.”

My mouth tightened. “I thought Colby was a nice guy and look how that turned out.” I sighed. “Are you actually jealous?”

He flushed. “I just know how guys think. Declan’s a jerk and you need to avoid him and not do anything stupid.”

“And if by stupid you mean let a guy get me drunk so he can do whatever he wants—I think I learned my lesson.” Blake and I had been arguing a lot lately, and it was always about stupid stuff. Something was off between us. “Whatever. I’m going to find a restroom.”

Shelley’s eyes were big as I turned to walk away, but Blake grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He grimaced, hazel eyes apologetic. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. It’s just—I remember what you looked like, all messed up and crying, and then you tried—”

“Just stop,” I snipped. “Please. I don’t need reminders of my mistakes.”

He reddened, his shoulders dipping down. “I can’t do anything right by you tonight. Forgive me, Elizabeth?”

God, what was wrong with me? He’d always been there for me.

“Of course. I’m sorry for snapping,” I said as his big body leaned in to give me a hug. We embraced tightly, his strong arms encircling my waist as I tilted my head up and met his eyes. They were glistening with some kind of emotion I took as remorse.

“It’s okay,” I murmured and kissed his cheek.

We pulled apart but not before I saw Declan look over his shoulder at us from his place in line at the bar. A strange expression crossed his face, but then it was just as quickly gone.

I couldn’t help but notice that my gaze wasn’t the only one following him around the patio. Almost all the girls. And a few of the guys. He laughed at something someone said on the way back to us, his long legs eating up the ground in big strides. People everywhere clapped him on the back as if congratulating him. He’d nod and smile. Those who didn’t know him seemed to scurry to move, nodding their heads at him, giving him passage.

He had presence, as Mom would say.

My mom had dated a string of men with presence—drug problems, felonies, heavy fists.

I groaned. I was spending way too much time analyzing this guy.

But my mouth had other ideas. “So what exactly is Declan’s type,” I asked Blake, turning my eyes to him.

“Blond hair, long legs, smart. Mostly sorority girls with attitudes and rich daddies. In fact, his ex, Nadia, is here somewhere.” He gazed around at the crowd as if to find her.

I snorted. “Rich girls? I’m here on an academic scholarship. I think I’m safe.”

“Safe from what?” Declan asked me as he approached us. I startled. He’d moved a lot faster than I’d thought. He handed me a chilled bottle of water, his warm hands again connecting with mine, his fingers lingering.

Sparks went off on my skin.

Did he carry some kind of electrical current machine around in his pocket?

He handed a Solo cup of beer to Shelley.

I tried to focus my eyes away from him, but the darn things kept returning to him, searching his face and taking in the details. He had a three-inch white scar above his right eyebrow and I found myself wanting to touch it, to trace it with my fingers and ask him what had happened. He was preoccupied with me too, giving me long glances but then looking away and rolling his neck as if what he saw in me made his shoulders tight.

Ha. I bet he had a line of girls waiting to work those kinks out.

But still that didn’t stop me from following him to the back of the yard when he suggested it, saying we could talk without everyone in our face.

Blake went off to dance with one of the fraternity little sisters. Shelley checked with me to make sure I was okay and when I told her I was fine, she and Dax headed out to dance.

We stood with our backs against the fence and watched the party, laughing every now and then at something crazy someone would do in the pool or on the dance floor.

“Do you think we’re the only sober people here?” I asked. I’d noticed he’d been drinking water too.

He shrugged. “My father drinks a lot, and I don’t want to be anything like him.”

I heard the tension in his voice, and because I wanted to ease him, I opened up. “Hmm, no family is perfect. My dad’s in prison—or at least the man my mom tells me is my dad. I’ve never met him, but he’s there for murder.”

His mouth parted, a look of surprise on his face. That I was the spawn of a killer? “Bugger, that must have been tough.”

“He beat a guy to death in an alley outside a bar while he was on probation for selling drugs. He got life.” My gut tightened as I took in his black eye. “My mom says he was a hothead. Maybe it’s a good thing I never knew him. People who use their fists scare me.”

His body tensed at that, but it didn’t stop me from babbling on and on. Maybe it was because he was a stranger, and I figured I’d never see him again. “My mom, on the other hand, wanted to be a Vegas showgirl but then she got pregnant with me. I guess you could say I ruined her life.” I shrugged, pushing those memories away. “So, how did you end up here? Are you an athlete?” My eyes lingered on his broad chest. Again.

He grinned. “No.”

Oh.

“I’m originally from London. My mum was English and my dad’s American—he was the ambassador to England years ago.” He seemed to gather himself, adjusting his stance, his eyes suddenly everywhere except on me. “They divorced when I was a toddler, and when I was ten, Mum died from cancer. Dax and I moved here to Raleigh to live with my dad. I guess you can say we’ve been Americanized in the past few years. At least I got a dual citizenship out of the union.” Hardness grew in his eyes. “He ripped everything away from us and then forgot we existed when he got remarried. I don’t see him often. He doesn’t care.”

I held my water bottle up. “A toast to shitty parents.”

A large blue dragonfly landed on my arm, its stick-like body vibrating. I’m not the kind of girl who screams bloody murder when an insect shows up. The artist in me preferred to study everything in great detail.

“Oh. Look how pretty it is,” I said, but he’d already seen it and had leaned in closer, the smell of him male and potent.

“It tickles,” I giggled after a while, and he shooed the creature away, his gentleness surprising me.

He watched it fly away and then sent me a considering glance. “It’s funny—every time I see a dragonfly, I think it’s my mum’s spirit. She loved them. Crazy-like. She even had this charm bracelet someone had given her, and you’d think she’d have different things on it, but all she bought were dragonfly charms. She had magnets, knickknacks, even paintings.” He rubbed his jawline. “On the day of her funeral, we were at the burial and one landed on Dax and then flew over to me. It hovered around us the entire time and wouldn’t leave. It was strange yet comforting—” He swallowed and then continued. “The day my father showed up at our house to move us here, one followed our car for miles. Weird, right? I—I just always think it’s her looking out for me.”

“That’s beautiful. Is that why you have the tattoo on your neck?”

“Yeah. To always have her with me.”

Him, him, him, my body said. Pick him tonight.

I fidgeted, switching my water from one hand to the other.

“Hey, you okay? Did my story bother you?” His eyes watched me, landing on my lips.

I licked them. “Uh, no, it’s just we seem to have this thing, like a connection, and I was wondering if maybe, you know, if you weren’t busy later, and you know, if you aren’t with anyone else, and if you think it’s cool, and if you’re attracted to me and like sex, then perhaps you could come back to my place?”

I closed my eyes in horror. Kill me now. Shit, shit, shit. That came out so wrong.

I popped my eyes open to see Blake jogging over to us. Thank God. Someone to rescue me from my stupidity.

I chanced a look at Declan for a reaction to my offer, but his face was a cool mask as he watched Blake approach us.