Fleeting Moments(39)

“That depends on what it is.”

I shift and turn, tucking my leg beneath me and facing him. “Is he in a lot of danger?”

Johnny’s eyes dart to the left for a split second, and he takes a few minutes before he answers. For a moment, I don’t think he will, and the idea of that scares me more than knowing the answer, because if he doesn’t answer, that means he knows what kind of danger Heath is in. My heart pounds harder and harder as I watch him, begging for him to open his mouth and say the one word I want to hear—no.

He finally sighs and looks me in the eye. I’m fairly sure I’m going to stop breathing. “If he finds out, then it is pretty serious.”

“Who is he?”

He opens his mouth to answer but Tank walks outside, shirtless and terrifying. His eyes slice to mine and then to Johnny’s, and he growls, “Heath is looking for her.”

Her.

Not Lucy. Her.

He hates me, and I don’t understand it. He might have his reservations about me, but this outright hate I just don’t get it. What the hell have I done to deserve it?

“Right,” Johnny says, standing.

I stand too, but my knees shake a little as I move past Tank. He terrifies me; he’s so incredibly dark. It radiates from his soul. Maybe he’s just damaged and it’s coming off wrong, but the man has the power to scare anyone with just one look. I only let out my breath when I’m inside the warehouse. Talk about a testosterone-filled space. Blake and Sheldon stand at the kitchen counter, each wearing only a pair of boxers.

My cheeks turn pink and my eyes find Heath, who is on the other side of the counter, studying me, a hungry look in his eyes as they drag down my body. I wrap my arms around myself, meeting his gaze. I’m wearing my jeans and tank, but suddenly I feel very exposed. I shift nervously and glance at the other two men, who are grinning. Big, wolfish grins.

“God dang, the sexual tension in this room is out of this world.” Sheldon chuckles low.

“Tell me about it.” Blake grins. “Heath, man, take that woman and get some of that out of your system or I will.”

My cheeks burn hotter.

“Get f*cked,” Heath growls at him.

Blake’s grin gets so big that dimples pop out in his cheeks. “Possessive, too.”

“Ah,” I say, turning and ducking my head as I hurry towards Heath’s room. “I’m going to have a shower.”

I disappear and shut the door when I reach his bedroom, exhaling loudly. They’re right, the tension is huge. Why is it the second you know you can’t have something, you want it? I know exactly why. Because the temptation of wanting what you can’t have feels so damned good.

I duck into the shower, closing the door behind me and stripping out of my clothes. Flashes of Heath’s beautiful body and face travel through my mind, and I find myself getting more aroused than I’d like. I turn the shower on far colder than I usually would and step in, letting the water glide all over me. It doesn’t help. Not even a little. I’m aching between my legs, my sex throbbing for more of what he can offer. I want to feel guilty, but I don’t. I don’t because I want him so damned bad I no longer care about the consequences.

My hands move before my mind registers what’s happening, sliding down my body and slipping between my legs. I’ve never been so turned on over the thought of a man in my entire life, not even with Gerard. Heath does something to me; he ignites a fire in my soul that I can’t seem to extinguish. It just burns brighter and hotter until eventually, I’m going to explode with wanting.

My fingers graze over my clit, and I whimper. Swollen and aching, my body is already on board for whatever I have to offer it. I turn, pressing my back to the shower wall and spreading my legs a little farther, massaging softly at first, and then increasing in pressure as images of Heath and I at my house flitter through my mind. God. He was incredible in bed. Incredible with his mouth. Incredible with his hands.

Dammit.

I want him again. I f*cking need him.

“God f*cking dammit.”

I jerk, and my hand drops from between my legs as a little gasp leaves my lips. Heath is standing at the door, boxers straining with his erection as he looks at me, the lusty glance he held earlier now filled with pure, raw need. My cheeks burn and I stammer, “I, ah . . .”

“I know exactly what you were doing,” he says, his voice so low and thick it’s hard to make out each word. “Fuck. It’s taking everything for me not to come in there, throw your leg around my waist, and slam you against that wall until we’re both coming.”

I shiver.

“You want it, too. Don’t you, baby?”

I lick my bottom lip. “I wasn’t touching myself for nothing.”

He growls. “Tell me to get out. Tell me I can’t have you again.”

My clit throbs, the desperation travelling deep into my belly. “You can’t have me again,” I say even though I want to throw myself out of the shower and into his arms.

“You’re a liar.”

“I know,” I say, running my hands boldly down my body. “I know I am.”

“I’m walking away now, because I made a promise to do this right,” he rasps, his eyes dropping to my * before he turns and clearly forces himself out of the room.

My stomach dips with disappointment, yet my heart explodes with awe that he would be so respectful. A small smile plays around my lips as an idea comes to mind. If he’s so adamant on not having me, I’ll have to make him suffer.