Текст книги "Storm"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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“Tell me you want my cock in your mouth,” I rasp, switching to the other pretty breast and its sweet nipple. “In your pussy, so deep you’ll feel it everywhere.”

She gasps. Releasing her wrists again, I lick a trail between her tits down to her bellybutton, then lower. I press my mouth to the black lace of her panties, on her mound, and inhale her scent. Her breath hitches, and her hips roll, the pressure of my lips there teasing but not enough to get her off.

“Tell me, Ray. Tell me you want it.”

“I…” She squirms. “I want it.”

I grin. That’s it, baby. Work for it. Because deep inside you do want me. You do trust me. And I fucking need you.

Snagging the black lace of her panties with my teeth, I drag them down, glancing up at her as I do so. Her heavy-lidded expression captivates me. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and Jesus Christ, I’m on overload. So it’s no surprise her panties go the way of the dress.

Easy. A quick flick over each hip and the tiny bit of lace holding them together is history. A fraction of a second later, I have them off her and push her legs apart.

“How badly do you want it?”

“Storm…” Frustration twists her pretty face. “Come on.”

“Say it.”

But then she turns the tables on me, because this is Ray we’re talking about. Always catching me off guard, making me hurt so good.

“I want you,” she whispers. “You, Storm.”

Shit, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. It’s her walls I’m trying to tear down. Not let her pull down mine.

You have me, Ray.

Suddenly, I can’t stand teasing her anymore. Can’t stand holding back and having any damn barrier left between our bodies. Frantic, I sit back and unbutton my pants, push them down and off me together with my briefs. I wrestle with my shoes and socks, and finally, mercifully everything is off.

My clothes drop to the floor, and I turn back to her, leaning over her. She’s so damn pretty. I wanted to eat up her pussy, then have her ride me again, but my balls are drawn up tight and my cock is so hard it hurts. The pressure is cranked up so high I might come before I even enter her.

No fucking way that’s happening. I’m gonna just—

She slips her arms around my neck, brushes her lips over mine and cants her hips upward, sliding against my thighs. One leg curls around my hip, the heel of her shoe driving into my muscle, a slight sting—and the head of my dick slips between her warm folds, swallowed into heat. A velvet vice, tightening around my cock, and the world around me fades.

It’s me and her, my body fitting into her body, our mouths coming together, crushing and melding and tasting. It feels so good. Mind-blowing. I’m doing this to prove something to her, but I can’t remember what it was. As I drive deeper into her, and she moans in my mouth, as I thrust faster, the need to come is short-circuiting my brain.

Shit. This is insane. Never felt so good before. Never—

“God.” Her body arches into mine, her hard nipples pushing into my chest, and she ripples around my dick. She cries out, her hips rolling, and my whole body goes taut and tight.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” A tiny part of my brain that’s still working rings the alarm. No condom. Fuck, no condom, no wonder it feels so good. “Goddammit.”

In the last second, I pull out of her, in one long drag that has me groaning and clenching my jaw so hard it creaks. Then everything goes white. My dick jerks, and I come like a goddamn fountain, my spunk splashing her breasts and belly, her shoulders and the covers.

Christ. Fuck. God.

I shake my head slowly from side to side, my vision hazy. She smiles up at me, her eyes bright, and I find myself smiling back.

Whoa.

How can sex with this girl get better every time? And even worse, why do I want to take her in my arms afterward and sleep with her taste in my mouth and her face pressed to my chest? It makes no sense at all.

But God, I want it. I want her like I never wanted anyone or anything before in my life. The realization is a punch to the gut, and I stare at her, frozen. I don’t just want her, dammit. It’s more than that, it’s—

The world goes bang.

Things rattle, the walls tremble, and something slams into my back. I drop on top of Ray to protect her from whatever the hell life has thrown our way this time as water sprays down on us from the sprinklers that just kicked in.

Fucking figures.

Just when I thought I was about to understand this mess.

***

“Storm. Storm!” She’s shaking me by the shoulders, her voice rising into a panicky pitch. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I blink and lift my head, then try a push-up, since I’m crushing her to the mattress. My ears are ringing. What the hell just happened? “You?”

Her hands lift to my face and rest on my cheeks, warm and small and light. “Fine.”

Ungluing myself from her pretty body, my cooling cum smeared between us, I sit up. My back stings as I shift to take stock of her. No missing limbs. No blood and gore. Her creamy skin looks unblemished.

But the ringing in my ears only grows louder, and the room dims again.

“Storm.” She’s shaking me again, dammit. “There’s a man at the door.”

What man? The question spins in my mind, but she says nothing and I’m not sure I asked it. Drawing myself back from the dark is hard. Feels like I’m lying in quagmire, the mud sucking at my limbs, at my head.

Bracing my hands on the mattress, by her sides, I try to sit up and I can’t. The copper tang of blood fills my nostrils.

Move, I think. Move, goddammit.

Blood. Gore. Noise. Pain. Danger. Over and over again, twisting into my life, snagging around my neck, pulling me down.

Shit. One more try and I sit back on my heels, my breath coming in harsh pants. Something warm is trickling down my back. Blood. No wonder I thought I could smell it.

Raylin leans back on the bed, covering her breasts with her hands. She’s staring over my shoulder, her eyes narrowed.

“Well, this is awkward,” a familiar male voice says from behind me. “Won’t you introduce us, Storm?”

“Rook.”

The bed dips when he sits down beside me and his face enters my field of vision. “In the flesh. Hawk told me you were on your way. Couldn’t wait to get the party started, could you?”

“Fuck you,” I spit at him, and he doesn’t even flinch. That’s what happens when someone knows you since you were at toddler. So much harder to intimidate them.

Damn Rook. Despite the fact his hair has been shaved to a dark shadow on his skull, in his pressed gray suit and polished shoes he’s every inch the successful business man.

He always did manage to pull that image off better than me and Hawk. Then again, his tattoo peeks over the starched collar of his white shirt. Red roses, with so many bloody thorns…

“Who is he?” Raylin whispers, trying to move away but unable to, trapped under me. “What happened? Was that a bomb?”

“Bomb? Nah.” Rook grins at Ray, giving her a once-over. “Storm here left the stove on.”

“Damn you, Rook.” I shove at him, anger clearing my head. “Get out and stop ogling my girl.”

Ray makes a funny sound, and Rook huffs.

What? “Ray, meet Rook, one of my best friends.”

She says nothing. Rook glances from her to me and back, his grin growing bigger.

What the fuck is wrong with these guys?

God, my head is killing me. My back aches. The stench of blood is still there, and every movement causes a fresh spill down my back. I start reaching over my shoulder to check, and Rook grabs my arm in a flash.

He lowers it, face locked in a dark scowl. “You’re bleeding, you moron. Wait for the doctor.”

I stare at him stupidly.

Raylin curls a hand around my forearm, eyes wide. “You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter. I like the light pressure of her fingers on my flesh.

“I was inside the building when I heard the explosion,” Rook says. “I thought a doctor might come in handy, and it just so happens my family has one on the payroll.”

“Jeez,” Raylin mutters, releasing my arm to better cover her tits. I stare at the soft mounds straining over her folded arms and lick my lips, distracted. “Don’t get too worried about your best friend getting caught in an explosion. You might strain something.”

That makes me grin. Hey, she’s on my side.

“Didn’t call the police to avoid the vultures,” Rook says, ignoring her comment, but getting up and pulling an afghan from one of the chairs and throwing it to her. She wraps it around herself, glaring daggers. “Better keep them off our backs. Let’s last at least a day, huh? A day without reporters hanging outside your windows, snapping photos.”

God, yeah. And despite his cool attitude, I know he’s worried. But Rook doesn’t show much on the outside, unlike Hawk who wears his heart on his sleeve, twisted and dark as it is. Rook is cool and steady, a boiling, writhing mess that may explode at any moment.

Speaking of explosions…

“Someone’s after me.” I glare at him. “Told you, man.”

“Bullshit. You left the stove on. Ceramic exploded. Happens to everyone.”

“Fuck you, Rook. I didn’t turn on the stove. We ordered take-out, for chrissakes.”

“And you accidentally turned on the stove. It’s a touch pad. You probably had a little gas leak, too. You’re not being hunted, you’re being absent-minded and clumsy. Nothing new there, pal, so will you quit with the conspiracy theories?”

“You’re an asshole.” Maybe I was wrong. He’s not putting on a cold façade. He’s a bastard through and through. “Can you smell any gas, huh? I didn’t turn on the stove. And I’m not fucking clumsy.”

“And you shouldn’t say things like that to people who’ve known you since you wore a fucking bib.”

I suck a deep breath through my teeth, trying to calm down before I deck Rook. It wouldn’t be the first time we fought and ended up bloody.

Not a good time. I try to center myself. I fist my hands in the cover, feel the mattress dip under my shins, feel the goddamn wound in my back throb and bleed.

Fuck. My. Life.

That calming, centering thing? Not working.

“So you two are friends?” Ray clears her throat. “Like, for real?”

“Known him since he wore diapers,” Rook says with a sniff. “Kept falling over and knocking over the furniture. Which is why I’m saying: clumsy.” He lifts his chin, daring me to contradict him.

“All lies,” I mutter, although I can’t remember my childhood. My parents’ accident somehow erased my earlier memories. All that’s left is that night, and even that…

“He didn’t learn to walk properly until he was four.”

“That’s a lie, right?” Ray asks but I see doubt in her eyes.

Doubt about me. About my allegations. About my fears.

I still want to punch Rook, but it seems he got the first hit in while I wasn’t looking. My gut is a knot. What if he’s right? I’ve considered the possibility so many times.

What if I’m wrong?

With a grunt, I heave myself off her and swing my legs off the bed to sit on the edge. “I need to see my lawyers.”

“Easy there, dragon.” Rook gets up and checks around the door. “Wait for the nice doc. And here.” He throws my pants at me. “Your dick’s hanging out. Don’t give the man a coronary.”

“You think he’ll get a coronary from seeing my dick?” I pull the pants over my lap but I’m not sure I can bend over to pull them on. “Doctors see dicks all the time.”

“Dicks like you are one in a million. Dickhead.” Rook shakes his head with a snort and leaves the room, presumably to check if the doctor is here.

“You have weird friends,” Raylin says, scooting forward until she’s kneeling by my side.

“Tell me about it.”

She swallows hard. “Storm, you… You have a piece of glass sticking out of your back. Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with her hand, her face paling.

“I’ll be fine.” I reach for her, kinda awkwardly because my upper back—or the piece of ceramic stuck in it—hurts like a mother, and I put an arm around her, drawing her to my side. “It doesn’t hurt,” I lie.

She’s quiet for a few seconds, snuggling closer. Her soft hair tickles my nose. It smells of roses.

So fitting.

“Could he be right?” she whispers.

“About what?” Despite the ache in my back and the throbbing in my head, her scent, her body pressed to mine manages what nothing else can. I start to relax, my lungs able to draw in more air.

“About this being an accident. About the stove.”

“He’s an ass. And we need to move out of here, hide somewhere.” But instead of moving, I close my eyes and rest my cheek on her hair, trying to imagine we’re the only people in the world and all the shit flying around us won’t hit us.

“But it’s possible, right?”

“Anything’s possible.”

Like falling for a girl wanted by a triad and being so clumsy I almost killed us both by placing a takeout bag on top of the stove. Right?

Fuck, it sure is possible, no question. But is it true?

RAYLIN

I’m struggling to hold it together and not freak out—I mean, there’s a frigging piece of glass stuck in Storm’s back, and he’s bleeding, and white as a ghost, and looking completely out of it. Maybe it’s time to panic and start screaming.

Or not. Raylin O’Brien doesn’t panic. She doesn’t scream. Focus on the important stuff.

“So I’m your girl?” I ask.

And wince. Oh good job. That’s the important stuff? For shame, Ray.

He huffs, a tiny puff of air ruffling the top of my head, making me shiver. “He was looking at you.”

I stiffen. “So you said it just to stop your friend from ogling me?”

“Ogling…?” The huff comes again. “Would you rather I let him?”

Disappointment tastes bitter on my tongue. “Of course not.”

That wasn’t my question. Guess I got my answer anyway. He didn’t mean it, it wasn’t even out of jealousy that he said it. It was so that I feel comfortable.

Should be good enough. Even injured he thought about me, how to put me at ease. Then why doesn’t it feel like it’s enough?

Fucking, I remind myself, doesn’t mean anything. Not to men, and especially not to young millionaires with the world at their feet.

“You should stay away from me,” he says, confirming my thoughts. “It’s dangerous.”

“Because you’re clumsy?”

I can feel his grin on top of my head. I’m so aware of him, it’s as if he’s under my skin, as if we’re sharing the same nerve-endings. “Right.”

He doesn’t believe it was an accident. After what he told me back at the beach, who can blame him? But apparently Hawk and Rook, his best friends, do believe it. It’s so confusing.

“You should stay until it’s done.” His embrace is so warm. His scent is delicious, and I can’t help but press my nose to his shoulder, inhaling him. “Until I’ve talked to the lawyers, signed the papers, and found a safe way to pay that debt hanging over your head. Then…”

I shiver and burrow closer to him. The thought of leaving him hurts like a rusty blade twisting in my heart. “Then?”

“Then you should run away as fast as you can, and not look back.”

I swallow hard. Maybe that would be for the best. It’s not like we have a future together. Covered that already. I should be grateful, let him save me and go.

Maybe I will. After I make sure he’s okay. After that wicked piece of glass is out of his back, and he’s not bleeding on the covers and shaking against me.

Where the hell is that doctor?

“Hey, you never told me.” I close my eyes, comfortable leaning against his muscled shoulder. I lift my hand up to rest on his chest. “How did you uncle die?”

See? Important stuff.

“You want my conspiracy theories?” His heart starts to race under my palm. “You sure?”

“I want the facts.”

“He overdosed on one of his heart medicines. Now he’s dead. Those are the facts.”

His voice pulses with anger and something else. Pain, I think, and it echoes inside me. “Okay. And what do you think happened?”

“I think someone forced him to swallow a whole jar-full of pills and held him down until he died. My uncle wasn’t a confused old man. He was fifty-five and the least likely person to overdose. Fuck.” Storm’s shaking again, and I rub a circle over his chest with my hand. “He was cold and calculating. Being the head of an empire, that was his element. Finding a way to keep my inheritance for himself, that I could see, but killing himself, accidentally or not? No fucking way.”

Like every time he talks to me about this, I’m torn between sadness, doubt and fear. He’s fighting it, hiding it—the pain, the confusion, the panic—but I feel it in the frantic beat of his heart, his shallow breathing, the sweat rolling down his corded neck.

Then why didn’t I guess he lied to me about who he is?

Because he didn’t lie. He’s right. He’s still Storm. No matter whether what he fears is true or not—and why wouldn’t it be? God knows my story is even more incredible—he only says things he believes.

That’s a good thing, right? It means those things he said, that he trusts me, that he needs me, that he thinks I’m beautiful… they were true.

Storm Jordan. His ink goes deeper than the fancy clothes he had on today, and although he barely knows me, he wants to help me when my own family set me up. He’s sexy, bossy and yet kind, just as he was when I met him. Just as gorgeous and hurting inside.

This is so bad. The way I feel about him… How am I supposed to walk away when this is over?

Chapter Fourteen

STORM

“Ray.” I tighten my arm around her slender shoulders, my skin crawling. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

She lifts her head from my bare shoulder, leaving cold behind. Her mouth opens, closes. She sighs.

Back at the beach I thought she believed me, but not anymore. She thinks I’ve lost my marbles. That I’m imagining it all. Like Hawk and Rook and everyone else in the damn world thinks.

“Say something,” I whisper.

She shakes her head, and my heart sinks, and just when I think she will answer, she jerks back.

That pushes my arm up. A sharp pain shoots between my shoulder blades.

Jesus. Ow. Dammit.

And Rook strides into the room before I even have time to catch my breath.

“Storm. Come out here a sec.”

I raise a hand in a universal gesture of “wait.”

He grabs it and hauls me up. A strangled cry catches between my teeth. Not so universal, after all.

“What are you doing?” Raylin steps between us and pushes Rook back a step with a hand to his plexus. “He’s hurt. Be careful, or don’t touch him at all.”

Rook blinks, then looks at me, brows raised. “A wildcat,” he says, and she shoves him again. “Storm will be fine. It will take a lot worse than a piece of ceramic in his back to bring him down. I want him to take a look at the stove.”

“Bullshit. You just want to bully him around because he obviously left you out of the loop for a while. Well, tough, big guy.” She’s really in his face and the way his eyes go round is goddamn funny. “You’re gonna have to suck it up and lay off him.”

Christ. I’d shrug, or laugh, but either option will hurt like a bitch, so I settle for a hand on her waist. She’s a wildcat all right, small and fierce.

Mine, a voice in the back of my mind whispers. Mine.

Yeah, right. After this last fuck-up, knowing Rook thinks I’m batshit crazy, I bet she can’t wait to get away from me for good.

***

Turns out the doctor is in the living room, waiting for me to get dressed so he could examine me. Doc’s been around since I was a kid, his blond goatee gone silver. Rook’s parents pay him, but he’s been doing the rounds in all three families for years.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, probing at the piece of ceramic stuck in my back.

“He disappeared for months,” Rook says, because he’s so fucking helpful. “Just came back today.”

The sprinklers have been turned off, leaving puddles of water everywhere. A technician is going through the shards of the stove, while a bodyguard stands at the apartment door. A cleaning crew is unpacking equipment to clear up the mess of the kitchen and living room.

Shit. So many people in this apartment I haven’t visited since the car accident, it’s unreal. The cupboards are smashed, there’s food and sauce dripping off every surface and the stench of burnt plastic fills the air.

At least we got dressed. Raylin helped me pull on my pants and she borrowed one of the shirts I couldn’t remember I had hanging in my closet.

Holy shit. I lived here for months, and I can hardly remember the place or the things in it. Like the tray with the scotch and glasses on the low corner table, or the cigar box by the sixty-inch flat TV. All I can see in my mind’s eye is the beach house, and Raylin on the king-size bed, naked and—

“Something’s odd here,” the technician says, rubbing at the dark stubble on his chin. “This thing shouldn’t have exploded like that.” He pokes between the shards. “Damn weird.”

“See?” I snarl at Rook, but my voice cracks on a groan when the doctor starts pulling on the shard. Damn, that stings. “Told you. Have you called the police?”

“Christ, Storm, relax. It’s not a bomb or anything. Why would the police care?”

“No, not a bomb,” the technician says. “I’m only saying it shouldn’t have exploded like this, but the wiring is a mess. Or was, before it melted. You’re lucky. If you were still in the kitchen when this happened, not sure you’d have made it out alive.”

“Awesome,” I mutter. The shard slides out of me all the way, and then the doc sprays the wound with something that burns like fire. I bite the inside of my cheek not to yelp. You’d think I’d be used to pain by now, wouldn’t you?

Fuck. Used to the pain and the near-death situations.

“Will he be okay?” Raylin asks and takes my hand. I wrap my fingers around her slim fingers.

“He’ll live.” The old doc is way too cheerful, in my opinion. What he’s doing now feels like he’s cutting me up, which probably means stitches. Far from the first time he’s had to do this. He then slaps some gauze on the wound and tapes it to my back. “He’s lucky it didn’t hit his spine, or he’d be in a world of trouble.”

Yeah, that’s me. So lucky.

But Raylin shudders and her eyes well.

“Hey.” I give her what I hope is a reassuring wink, while all I want is to grab her and run away. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay. You got shot at because of me, and now this…” Then she says, so low I have to strain to hear, “I’m scared.”

“I’ll keep you safe. I’ll do all I can.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?” She’s confusing me, and fuck all I want is to hold her and feel her and taste her…

The doc pats my shoulder, breaking through my thoughts. “You’re good to go, boy.”

“Thanks.” I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. Doc, Dr. Jazz for those who didn’t know him since they could barely walk, is well over six feet tall. He pushes his silver glasses up his long nose and with this dark suit and tie he makes a good impersonation of Freud.

Yeah, I wonder what Freud would have to say about my fears and theories. He’d have a field day. Because if Ray doesn’t believe me, then nobody does. I’m even starting to doubt myself, my memories, what I know.

Bring on the straightjacket. It’s been a long time coming.

“Listen, you have a lot going on,” Raylin is saying, and I blink, forcing my mind back on track. What is she talking about? “You don’t need my shit, too. No need to do anything, pay anything. I’ll just run. I’m used to running. They’ll never catch me.”

What the fuck?

“The hell, Ray. I’m doing this. We’re doing this. Those sons of bitches won’t stop at anything to get their money, and I’m not leaving you at their mercy.”

“You saving damsels in distress now, Storm?” Rook is leaning back on a kitchen counter, hands in his pant pockets, as the technician unscrews something from inside the broken, melted mess that was my stove.

A stove I never used in the months I spent here. Not once. It could have exploded any time I puttered in my kitchen, opening take-out containers and taking down dishes from the rack.

“That’s my business.”

“So you really don’t think she’s here for your money, then?” Rook blinks innocently. “That she spun a story to get a couple millions off you and vanish?”

“Fuck off.” I glare at him, daring him to keep acting like an idiot. “She didn’t know who I was.”

“Sure she didn’t. And she will forget again, the moment you give her what she wants.”

Fuck. I push to my feet and kick the chair across the kitchen. “Shut. Up! She’s not like the stupid girls you like to date, moron.”

“Stop.” Raylin backs away, but her face is not frightened. It’s sad. “Just stop.”

“Ray…”

She spins around and heads back into the bedroom. I follow, limping, because I somehow managed to fuck up my leg again. From the sex or curling over her the moment of the explosion? Who knows?

Fun.

She’s opened the walk-in closet and is pulling pants from the hangers. I stand by the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving. I need pants and shoes. Can’t walk out only dressed in your shirt.” Her voice is clipped, her movements jerky.

“You can’t go.”

“I can’t stay.” She grabs a pair of dark pants of mine and pulls them on. I stare at her creamy legs. She’s naked below my shirt, and despite the anger and what feels a lot like panic welling inside me, my dick stirs, interested in what is going on.

“Yes, you can. At least until the debt is paid and you’re free.”

“I’m not free. God, Storm, don’t you see?” She turns to look for a belt. The pants hang dangerously low over her hips. “I never was.”

I rub the back of my head and my back throbs, stitches pulling. “You haven’t told me everything, have you?”

“Trust takes time.”

“Really?” I reach for her, grip her wrist. The belt she took falls from her fingers to the floor. “I trust you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Her dark eyes still look wet when she looks up at me. “I wish we could go back to the beach house. Back in time. Before I knew who you are, and you…”

“What is it? What haven’t you told me?”

“I should go.”

“No.” My throat is tight, with anger, with fear, with something I can’t name. “Not letting you go like that.”

“Like what. What am I to you? A friend with benefits? A fuck-buddy?”

“Please, Ray…” I thought I still had time with her. Thought I’d be fine without her. “Rook’s an idiot. Ignore him. Just talk to me.”

“Can’t.”

I turn her around, put my arms around her and clutch her to me. “You’re the one who caught me, Ray. Don’t you fucking let go.”

RAYLIN

“You’re the one who caught me,” he says, the same words he told me that stormy night when I pulled him away from the crashing waves, and then, “Don’t you fucking let go.”

His words are a low blow. He’s doing it again, knocking over my defenses, turning my anger into something different. Something better. When he looks at me like this, it feels as if my heart will crack in two.

“Talk to me, Ray.” His voice rumbles in his chest. “You’re not saying anything. Let me in.”

He’s already in. He has no idea. What he wants…

“Tell me what you haven’t told me,” he says. “No more secrets. We’re going in as soon as Hawk is back in town tomorrow. We’re going to talk to the triad, and we need to know exactly what is going on.”

He’s right.

If I walk away it will be easier, though. Easier for him. And he won’t think that I want to be here for his money.

“I trust you,” he says again, as if reading my mind. “What you tell me won’t change anything.”

Won’t it?

“I feel good with you,” I whisper, tired of fighting him, fighting this thing between us. “I feel happy. I don’t want to go. I want to stay. I want many things I can’t have, don’t you see? A family, a home. A cat.”

“A cat? What are you…?” He frowns, his blue eyes darkening. “Ray.”

“Hear me out. It’s dangerous, okay? Even if you paid the triad back the money. They want something else. It’s personal. And that’s more important to them than the bucks.”

“What then? What do they want?”

I hate this. I hate putting him in danger. I hate even more the fact that he’ll have to let me go. He can’t afford to do this.

“Me.”

“You.” He releases me and takes a step back, his dark brows knitting. “What about you?”

“You’re a moron, Storm,” Rook says from the door opening, startling me. “She’s playing you. She wants to roll you, get your money.”

Crap. Why does he have to be here when I’m doing this? It hurts enough as it is.

“Shut up,” Storm growls, and God, I’ll miss his voice, that sexy growl. Everything he does is sexy. He’s beautiful. He’s too good for me.

And now he’s about to find out.

God, Rook is right.

“This isn’t about the money,” I say.

Rook snorts and mutters something I don’t catch.

“Then what is it about?” Storm releases me and takes a step back, his dark brows knitting. “What else is there?”

“It’s about me.” I have to swallow hard, my throat so dry is hurts. “Even if you paid the triad back the money… I can’t stay. You were right. I should be on my way.”

“Told you, man,” Rook says, a dark brow lifting, damning me. “Stop listening to her and send her on her goddamn way.”

But Storm doesn’t seem to hear or notice him, at all. “Come on, Ray. You’re talking but not saying anything.”

He’s looking at me, waiting. And I’m about to tell him the whole truth, because the flare in his dark blue eyes isn’t anger, or disappointment.

It’s hope.