CHAPTER THREE
Cat
I FROZE AS soon as he said the word hallway.
What a stupid bitch I was. I should never have looked. I should never have allowed him to get close. But he’d given me plenty of hugs before and it shouldn’t have been a big deal.
Yet it was. There was something about the feel of his hands on my hips, the quiet strength in them, that I’d never noticed before. I’d never noticed how hot he was either. My hands on his chest felt scorched, like they’d been pressed against a furnace. He smelled delicious, too, his familiar aftershave reminding me of a forest—all dark and woody and spicy—along with the faintest tinge of leather from under his cut.
And when I looked up at him, angry and resistant to the idea of him going to the club for help with Annie, for some reason I couldn’t hold his gaze. The darkness of his eyes seemed to draw me in, suck me down, wrap me up in soft velvet and keep me there. It disturbed me, so I looked at his mouth instead.
A big mistake. Because that wasn’t any better. I couldn’t help noticing how beautifully shaped it was, how full the curve of his bottom lip was, and how if anyone had a kissable mouth, then surely it had to be Smoke...
Yeah, crazy. That’s what I was. Certifiable. He was my friend—my best friend—and I didn’t want to look at him that way. I didn’t have many people in my life who’d stuck around, but he was one of them and I did not want to screw that up.
So I tried to dismiss my blush through sheer force of will, tried to ignore the heat that was stealing through me at the feel of his body against mine. Tried desperately not to notice that the chest beneath my palms was rock hard and so very, very hot...
‘What hallway?’ I said stupidly.
‘You know what I’m talking about.’
‘Oh, that.’
I tried to pull away, but he was having none of it. His hands moved to the back pockets of my jeans, and before I could do anything to stop him, he slid them down inside them, his fingers curving over my butt.
All the breath left my lungs in a wild rush and I looked up at him in shock.
His eyes were so dark—black as tar—and they glittered, making something inside me draw in tight like a hand closing into a fist.
‘What are you doing?’ My voice sounded breathless and frightened, which was annoying since I’d never been afraid of Smoke.
He ignored me. ‘You saw me getting sucked off by Hannah.’
I blushed like a teenager but bluffed it out. ‘Yeah, so what? It was disgusting.’
‘Is that why you’re acting so weird?’
I couldn’t think. All I was aware of was how hot his hands felt inside the pockets of my jeans, with his palms pressing lightly, the heat of them soaking through the denim. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the heat of him in front of me and how conscious I was of it. How conscious I was of him.
Beneath my palms his chest felt incredibly hard—a wall of firm muscle that probably wouldn’t move no matter how hard I pushed. If I pushed. And his arms were around me strong and sure, like bands of iron.
He’d held me in those arms before. When Dad had gone away for that final time and never come back. That final job he’d had to do for the stupid club he’d been a part of. Not that he’d ever paid much attention to Mom and me, but a death was a death and my mom wasn’t the hugging type. At least, she didn’t hug me. So all I had was Smoke.
But back then I didn’t notice the firmness of his chest or the heat of his body. Or how good he smelled. Back then all I felt was grief and rage.
Now, though, everything was different.
‘I’m not acting weird,’ I mumbled, staring at his chest.
God, I so did not want to have this conversation with him. Not when all this awareness was careening around inside me, and most definitely not while he had his hands in my back pockets and his arms around me.
‘You are. Look at me.’
I don’t know what it was in his voice. A note of something...hard. Like it was an order. Normally I hated people telling me what to do, but right then I found myself doing it. Lifting my head and meeting his eyes.
They were black—like the extradark, extrastrong espresso I used to make him when he had a hangover. And they were just as hot, too. They made an electric shock go straight down my spine.
I shoved at him then, entirely instinctively, trying to get away from all the weird feelings...trying to get away from him. He let me go straight away and I had the strangest sense of disappointment as he did so, as if I’d been enjoying his hold.
You’re crazy.
Yeah, I really was. I didn’t have feelings for Smoke. He was the best friend I had in the world—like a damn brother. End of story.
He frowned. ‘What the fuck, Cat?’
My cheeks were on fire and I really didn’t want to look at him. But I made myself do it, folding my arms defensively over my chest. ‘I need some space, okay?’
His dark gaze scanned my face and, damn him, he probably knew exactly why I was blushing. Jesus, how embarrassing was that?
Slowly he folded his arms, mirroring me, and I couldn’t stop noticing the flex of his biceps as he did so, and the black ink of the stars cascading down his left upper arm flexing along with them.
I’d never been a fan of tattoos—not when all they ever spelled for me was bad news. But the stars on Smoke’s arm suddenly seemed...fascinating, somehow. They drew my attention to the muscles there, to the tanned skin beneath the ink. Made me wonder what the rest of that skin looked like...
God, he was tall. And broad. I’d noticed that once, back when I was sixteen and crushing on him like crazy. Even at eighteen he’d been muscular and lean hipped, like a panther. Now, at thirty, he’d filled out, the cotton of his T-shirt stretching over his chest.
‘Cat.’ His voice had gone low and husky. ‘Are you checking me out?’
You are. You’re totally checking him out.
The blaze in my cheeks felt like a supernova. I should have looked him in the eye and brazened it out, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Avoiding his gaze would tell him more or less the same thing of course, but it was way less confrontational. And I’d had too much confrontation tonight as it was.
‘No, of course I’m not,’ I snapped and turned on my heel, heading to the kitchen. ‘I’m going to get a damn beer.’
Plus some space while I was at it.
In the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge and grabbed myself a can, popping the tab and taking a long, deep swallow to cool myself down.
I had no idea what the hell was going on with me. No idea why I was suddenly checking out my best friend like I hadn’t had sex in years.
That’s the problem. You haven’t had sex in years.
I scowled at the cracked paint of the kitchen wall. That was unfortunately true. I hadn’t. But men were such bastards and I’d had enough. I certainly had after Justin.
He’d started out so great—just the kind of guy I was after. A lawyer earning good money, on the straight and narrow. Definitely not a drug user or a criminal, like the people my dad used to associate with. In fact Justin was as far from that as it was possible to get—which was why I’d fallen for him like the proverbial ton of bricks.
It wasn’t until I was pregnant and things weren’t going so well at his firm that the cracks in his good-boy facade had started to show. He’d always had a problem with anger, and when he got angry he lashed out. At me.
The first time he hit me I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do. He cried and told me he was sorry, that he’d never do it again. So I forgave him. It didn’t happen again until after Annie was born. Then he did it again. And again. Three times I put up with it. The fourth he nearly knocked me out.
So I left him.
Good boys were overrated... Bad boys were just like my dad. And since there was nothing in between, I took nothing. It was easier—better for me and better for Annie. After all, between her and my two jobs—the call centre during the day and Lucky’s, the bar I worked at some nights—I didn’t have time for men anyway.
I didn’t miss them. Sex with Justin had been pretty average—certainly no better than what I could get with my own imagination and a decent vibrator. At least I was in charge of my own orgasms, which I found very satisfying.
So why were you looking at Smoke?
That was the one question I couldn’t answer, though I wished I could. Because that was the very last thing I needed in my life right now.
‘You gonna tell me what’s going on?’
I turned sharply, my heart giving the stupidest jump at the sound of Smoke’s voice.
He was standing in the kitchen doorway, one shoulder hitched up against the frame, his arms folded. His black eyes had narrowed. I’d never found that look threatening—not once. But I did now. Not because he was going to hurt me—I knew Smoke would never do that—but because he knew me. He knew that something was bothering me.
And if you’re not careful he’ll guess what that something is.
Shit. He would, too.
Trying for calm, I took a swig of my beer, the cold liquid putting out the strange fire burning in my veins. ‘Nothing’s going on,’ I said. ‘It’s just been a hell of a night, what with Annie and—’
‘And watching your best friend get blown?’
‘Jesus, Smoke.’ This time I managed to look him in the eye. ‘How many times do you want to keep saying that?’
‘I don’t know. Until you stop acting weird?’
‘I’m not acting weird. Okay, it was disconcerting, but I’m a big girl. I know what you guys get up to in the clubrooms. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’
But his narrow black stare didn’t budge. Like he was seeing things in me that I didn’t know were there. It was unsettling.
‘And what about you checking me out?’
‘I wasn’t checking you out! You’re my friend. You’re like my damn brother. Which means if I was looking at you like that, I’d be pretty damn sick. Don’t you think?’
He didn’t say a word. Just kept staring at me. And I could hear the echo of my voice bouncing off the walls, high and sharp and vehement. Too vehement.
I was incriminating myself with every word I spoke.
Man, could this night get any worse?
I turned away, running a hand through my hair. ‘You know what? I’m exhausted and I need to go to bed. So let’s talk about this later.’
For a second I didn’t think he was going to say anything, that he was going to keep standing there staring at me all night. But then he said, ‘Yeah, okay. You do look tired. But, Cat?’
I glanced at him. ‘What?’
Something glittered in his black eyes that made my heart race fast and hard. ‘We will talk about this later—get me?’
I swallowed and lifted a shoulder like I didn’t give a shit. ‘Sure.’
He sighed, his arms dropping to his sides, and pushed away from the doorframe. ‘I’ll handle that prick Justin, too, okay?’
‘Yeah...’ I let out a silent breath. ‘Thanks for getting Annie, Smoke. I mean... Just thanks.’
They were paltry words for what he’d done, but I didn’t have any other way to thank him. He’d know how much I meant them, though.
He smiled and, like always, it made me feel warm inside. Made me feel really good. Like the sun had come out to sit on my shoulder.
‘Anytime, kitten. Anytime.’