Page 55 of Lucky 14

Oakley shoots me what looks like a mix between a glare and a wince. His head is all buggered up, and even though he must be seeing stars, he still makes sure I know how much he despises me. And yet, it’s not all disgust. There’s interest there. His gaze lingers across my face and chest, eyeing my tattoos and then watching my mouth.

A thrill runs through my chest. My little mousey wants to play.

Oakley grabs his bag and starts to march in the wrong direction. I direct him back with a grip on his arm. Oakley’s following yank away from me makes a real tingle run down my spine. Slowly, that numbness is being chased away by something else. Something…alive.

There’s something about Oakley that zaps life into my veins. I’m not sure if it’s just because he’s hot, or if it’s the secrets I see churning in those pretty eyes. But he’s like a drug without the hangover, and I can already feel the magnetic pull. It’s so strong I almost step into him.

I blink, the illusion shattering. Oakley isn’t like the other men on this island. He’s too soft. His gaze darts away too quickly; he’s never angling his body to find my weaknesses, and he looks so far away, but with the most anguishing sadness instead of hardened anger.

Cursing myself, I realize I meant to look him up the other night. I must have passed out.

Not safe.

That happy bubble of good feelings pops, and I’m hit with a wave of fear. Someone else is riding this wave of good feelings with me. Someone who put me in that wave. Oakley. Who I don’t know anything about. Someone who spent the first day trying to get close to Wyatt. The one I’m supposed to protect.

I feel my chest get stiff. What the hell is wrong with me?

Gathering up that numbness, I wrap myself in it again. Blank nothing settles over me in a smothering, isolating fog. Normally, it’s also slightly warm and welcoming. But right now, I don’t feel warm. I feel alone and cold.

I need a drink.

“Let’s go.” I direct Oakley to the villa, scanning to make sure no one has seen us, then herding him inside. “You can pay the fine when we get there.”

As I say it, the cold gets colder.

I need that fucking drink to warm me up. Warm me and give me clarity about what to do with the mouse that I still want to pin against the wall and play with until he comes.

Suddenly, I’m warm again.

Getting Oakley up to my room feels like chasing a pouting toddler who doesn’t want to acknowledge me. When we stand outside my door, his eyes get shifty. “What are we⁠—”

Unlocking the door, I motion inside. “Go.”

I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t bring him into my room. Because already I feel the apathy shifting to something else. Something far more dangerous.

It’s fine. I’ll get a drink, and it’ll be fine.

Oakley glances down the hall, those captivating eyes looking for an escape. In the light, his forehead is even more puffy than it looked before. And still, his gaze catches on me with a split second of hesitation. Like he can’t look at me enough.

That attention yanks on my numbness again, like a siren call.

Shaking myself, I focus again. “Shall I tell my boss that you were out late?”

That spurs Oakley into motion, and he steps into my room.

It’s dark, but I flip the light on, expecting to see a mess. Already stuffing down any feelings that might be related to Oakley and what he thinks about it.

But it’s not. The room is clean, and the bed is made. My work stuff is all organized on the desk. I pause, staring. Did room service come in here while I was gone?

Oakley turns to face me. “I uh, don’t have my wallet here.”

Wallet? He thinks he’s paying in cash?

I have to turn away, looking for my tequila. That damned interest is trying to overwhelm me again. It’s screaming that a threat wouldn’t be so naive. That Oakley isn’t trying to pull one over on me. That he’s just as lost as I am.

Finally, my fingers brush up against the cool glass of a bottle under the bed. There’s a slight thrill of victory. Housekeeping isn’t that good. Even as I haul out the heavy bottle, I’m hit with a combined sense of relief and guilt.

I shouldn’t be drinking right now. But with that thought comes that cold version of reality, and I’m not sure what demons will catch up to me there.