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.