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“Yeah, everything was fine. She didn’t have any clothes to change into, so I gave her mine,” I say as I toss the bags in the trash. What she did have on was a fucking towel. It took everything I have in my to keep my hands in my pockets. Her scent wrapped around me the moment she opened the door. Her hair, wet and dripping, made me instantly go hard. And watching those same beads cascade down her body, knowing she was one layer away from being naked, almost sent me into carnal mode.
Tyson raises his eyebrows, giving me a sly look.
“Shut up, Ty. I’m not an asshole. There’s no way I’m going to make a pass at her right now.”
“Right now.”
“If you have a point, then make it.” I’m not in the mood for his quips. It's bad enough that we are here under the assumption that her ex did something shitty. I'm using all my patience to not find out where the guy lives and rearrange his face.
Tyson leans against the wall, folding his arms with a smug smile on his face. “You want her.”
Do I? Absolutely. There’s no denying how drop dead gorgeous she is, or the reaction my body has to her. The way her red hair burns just like my veins when I'm near her. Or her ample ass and the way it sashays in my fucking pants. But am I about to discuss that with her best friend’s brother? Not a chance in hell.
“This conversation is over.”
He scoffs. “Whatever. Just don’t fuck it up. She’s important to Blake.”
“You mean she’s important to you.” I roll my eyes. “You were practically throwing yourself at her through the phone last night, and you’re the one that got called to come to her rescue. Don’t think that’s lost on me.” My voice is harsh. I don’t know why it bothers me that Tyson was called to come save her. She didn’t know me until twenty minutes ago. There’s no legitimate reason I would have been called, but it annoys me nonetheless. Just like him putting his hands on her. I get it that they've known each other a while, but that shit stops now. I don't care if anyone thinks it's my place or not. I'm making it my place.
“I was called to help Blake, not Libby. I’m happy to be here for her too, but B was the one that needed me. She was freaking out. And as far as me flirting with Libby, you know that’s just who I am. My sister’s best friend is no exception.” My palms twitch, wanting to slap the look off his face.
“She should be,” I say under my breath.
“You know, when I asked if you wanted to move in, I figured we’d be slinging beers and chasing women. But you’re kind of a dud,” he taunts.
“I have no interest in doing either of those things.” Tyson knows I don’t drink. And I’ve never brought a girl around him in all the years we’ve been friends. Not that I’m innocent, but I know better than to bring a woman around NBA star, Tyson Miller. Nobody is off limits as far as he's concerned. But that changes now.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Still. I wanted someone to move in, so I wasn’t so damn bored all the time. I didn’t realize you slept in that tiny camper because you had no life. I thought you were just too poor to do fun shit or live somewhere… better.” Leave it to him to assume if people don’t like partying or throwing money away, it’s because they don’t have any.
The girls walk into the room and I move out of Blake’s way as she goes toward the sandwiches. Libby lingers in the doorway, looking defeated, and I fight the urge to go to her. My body calls to her like she's a fucking beacon. I’m drawn to her in every way possible. Her hair has an unruly wave to it as it sits on the top of her shoulders, and I would love nothing more than to wrap it around my fist. The scattering of freckles that go across her cheeks and down her arms are all perfectly placed. The dimple in the middle of her chin, the curvature of her body, and those fucking eyes all drive me mad in the most addicting way.
In a moment of weakness, I let my gaze roam her body until I’m locked with the set of eyes that are peering at me timidly. Shit. I didn’t realize she was watching me while my thoughts took off. The last thing I want is to put her on edge. That’s not what she needs after a panic attack. Nobody’s said as much, but I know enough to put the pieces together. My little redhead has some major demons she keeps under wraps. And I plan on uncovering every single one of them.
Clearing my throat, I look away and put my hands in my pockets, trying to stop myself from reaching out to her. All I want to do is wrap her up in my arms and give her the comfort she needs. Watching Tyson do it so freely ignited something inside me that I’ve suppressed for years. He’s my friend and roommate, which means I won’t do anything stupid, but dammit if I didn’t want to rip his head off for touching Libby. It was only a hug, and she clearly accepted it, which only made me more envious. But I want to be who she seeks her comfort from.
I’ve never been a selfish man. I’m level headed and stay in my lane, unless something needs my intervention. I don’t like guys talking trash about women, using them, or beating them. None of it is acceptable. I have a short fuse when it comes to those things, and can’t help who I become when it happens. So I'll keep myself in check the best I can. For Libby's sake, Tyson's sake, and my own.
“Do you want to eat in here or in the living room?” Blake asks Libby, bringing me back to the here and now.
She lowers her head when she answers. “Living room,” she says with a whisper. Why the hell is she being so shy? I get that panic attacks are exhausting, but this is more than that.
We all head towards the living room, and the girls take their seats first. Blake sits in front of the sectional on the floor and puts her sandwich on the coffee table. Libby takes a seat next to her and Ty takes the short end of the on the couch, which leaves only one place open. I slide past Tyson and sit on the other side of the corner. My legs are only inches away from Libby’s arm. I unwrap my sandwich and lean forward to put my trash on the table, making my arm brushes her shoulder and I watch her tense. Not exactly the reaction I want her to have to me.
“Sorry,” I say. I am. That I invaded her space by accident, and that she seemed to be put off by it. Just like in the kitchen when I caught her elbow. She looked at my hand as if I had just stuck it in fucking a wood chipper.
“It’s fine.” She looks up at me and my gut twists. I hate how worn down she looks. She needs rest. Not just sleep, but her body needs to actually relax and recover.
“You sure?” Drawing out this little interaction as long as possible, I need to know that she means what she says. For no other reason than to get to know her better. Well, maybe that's a lie. I also want to know if it really is okay that I touched her. Because if I have it my way, it'll be happening more.
She gives me a half smile that doesn’t make it to her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
What happened in the last twenty-four hours that caused her to lose her fire? It was there when Ty was flirting with her and when she saw me taking her in over the phone. I could even sense it when I looked straight into the camera, trying to pull more of it from her. But now? Her fire has been put out. And I want—need — to find out why. Even if I have no business knowing. I'll make it my damn business.
8
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath. I can’t tell the difference between up from down or left from right. Everything is blurry and my whole body is shaking. But then I see him. Staring at me with empty slate-blue eyes. Eyes I used to adore, now strip me of all my sense of safety.
In one swift motion, he lurches toward me and I shoot up out of bed, sweat coating me. It was just a dream.
