I stopped.
Josh, Tyler and Vic sat on the bar stools at the island with Deck. They were talking quietly until they noticed me, and then they all turned and stared. Their eyes took in my naked thighs and Deck’s shirt I’d only buttoned partially up my body. It wasn’t like Deck took notice of me anyway.
Deck moved and his chair scraped the hardwood floors. The men lowered their heads and avoided looking at me. He stood and now I was wondering why I hadn’t gotten myself off in the shower. It would’ve eased some of the sexual tension I had bundled inside me.
Deck was hot, no question, but that wasn’t what wrapped me up so tight with him. It was him. The way his eyes looked at me as if he could read every thought tap dancing in my head. How he strode toward me, not a flicker of unease—ever. How he made me feel … okay, nix the getting all wet and bothered … it was more than that. He made me feel taken. Protected. Wanted. His.
Yeah, I was fucked. Not only did Deck not see me that way, but it was the last thing I needed.
I cocked my hip and put my hand on it, knowing full well when I did, it pushed up the shirt a little further on my leg. “Looks like a cupcake meeting. Hey, Tyler, Josh, Vic.” The boys nodded but still didn’t look at me. Well, Tyler did, winked, and then got up and poured himself another coffee.
“I thought you guys were overseas?”
“We were. Met Deck and Tyler in New York then flew back here,” Josh said. “We’re headed back overseas.”
“What was in New York for all the boys?” I already knew, but I was better off asking. What I didn’t know was what was overseas. They’d been going over there a lot.
“A strip bar with hot women,” Tyler offered. Of course, they’d never tell me.
I walked over to the kitchen and pulled a mug down then slid it in front of Tyler. “Fuel me up, hot-stuff.”
Tyler poured coffee into my mug then leaned back against the counter, cradling his coffee in his hands at chest level. He had this devilish look about him, handsome with a dash of hot sauce. Early thirties, never been married, had wealthy parents he was estranged from. Tyler’s left arm was inked up and he had piercing green eyes, which contradicted his dark walnut curls, lazily falling in every direction.
Deck nodded to the men and Josh and Vic got up, each making excuses and going into Deck’s office. There was a moment’s hesitation before Tyler decided he better follow suit, but not before he gave me his crooked grin.
I sipped my coffee, brows raised while waiting for the hammer to come down.
“Vic will stay at your place with you.”
“What?” Now, this was a new one. His men never stayed with me—ever. Shit, this was so not good. Total bad timing. Plus, I wasn’t sure about Vic. He wasn’t ex-military, but I’d heard he had skills with torture tactics. He was friggin’ scary; a real dark scary, as if he had a closet full of dead bodies and liked to look at them before bed just so he could sleep. “So, not happening, Deck. Vic is creepy and I like my space.” I licked my upper lip to get the remnants of coffee, although it was more for Deck’s sake. It caught his attention and he watched, but I was disappointed as usual that there was no reaction out of him.
Unbreakable. Didn’t I have any effect on him?
“Either that or you stay with your parents for the week and Vic’s your bodyguard. After that shit you pulled last night …” Deck approached and I hopped on the counter, his shirt crept up on my thighs so a hint of my panties showed. He kept coming and my breath hitched when he stopped inches away from me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down. “And you dress like that in front of my men again, I’ll spank your ass.”
I swallowed. I didn’t even want to begin to imagine what Deck would think if he knew how turned on I was. I remained quiet because the image of Deck spanking me was getting way out of hand and I was a little flustered.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time.”
I shrugged, but it was stiff. “Don’t need to tell me. I’m not your wife or girlfriend. I’m merely a promise to my dead brother. And I’m not staying at my parents’.” Heck no. I loved them dearly, but with their concern over my drinking … it was the last place I needed to be.
Deck was looking pretty damn firm with his rock-solid stance and unflinching eyes. Okay, I’d need to give on this one; otherwise, he might do something drastic like lock me up.
“Fine. Vic can stay with me.” Shit, Vic hated me. I saw it in the way he looked at me with those dark-grey eyes filled with contempt. “Who knows, maybe we’ll hit it off and I’ll get to taste a yummy chocolate—did you know black men have bigger cocks? I read—”
“He’ll take you to the cemetery.”
Fuck. I always disappeared on the day of Connor’s death and it was a week away. No one knew where I went. I always took a bottle of scotch for pretense and then I went dark. It was the only day of the year that no one, not even Deck, could find me. Looked like he was trying to end that. Well, I was pretty good at what I did and Vic wasn’t going to stop me.
“Stay and come with me.” I asked him this every year, kind of a ritual, and I already knew his answer. Each time, I breathed a sigh of relief when he refused. I’d be fucked if he said okay.
For the first year after Connor’s death, I hated Deck. Then I learned to harness that hate. I found my outlet, and the hate I thought I had for Deck wasn’t for him at all. It was for me. I hated myself. For who I was. For being scared all the time. I used to feel as if I was falling and the only way I’d survive was if Deck caught me. The thing was I knew if he’d been around back then he’d have caught me, saved me then tossed me aside like some annoying pebble he’d found in his combat boot.