Frayed (Torn #2)(25)

With my arms folded on my chest, I held his heated gaze with purpose. “I guess it’s a good thing that I’m not in to you, pretty boy. This technique might work on others, but it doesn’t do shit for me. Maybe it’s high time you go and treat your pretty dick to some pu**y showdown. I’m sure you could take your pick from one of those over-eager New Yorkers.”

Taylor’s eyes searched mine before he trailed them to my lips, those eyes burning with evident need and something else, almost like he was fighting it, too. This weird pull was unnerving. Cautiously, he looked away and gazed at the sea. “Yeah, you’re right,” He murmured as his fingers ran over his hair. With a resolute sigh, he went back inside without giving me another glance.

I stared after him, knowing I did the best thing. Taylor might be irresistible, but I couldn’t risk it. With my luck, I would end up being hurt again. Going through this emotional death and physical pain of losing the only man I had ever loved was the greatest challenge I have yet to conquer. Involving another man that I would be seeing for the next four weeks was not the brightest of ideas. That would be like asking life to shit on you some more. Yeah, not going there—not if I could help it. If I wanted to get laid, it better be with some guy that I would never see again; never get an emotional attachment to. Ever.

That night, we went out to party again. I wasn’t a wee bit surprised when those girls joined us since they had already mentioned they would see us at the club. Their names floated around, but I never was interested enough to catch any of them. Lindsey seemed to get on with them, as did Taylor. He was different tonight; he seemed more guarded, unreadable. He wasn’t a jerk or anything, he still talked to me, but the warmth and playful tone were gone. I was hardly surprised. Men like Taylor aren’t used to the word “get lost”. I tried to ignore the odd feeling of his new treatment of me, so I paid extra attention to my drinks and danced with random people. I didn’t even try to engage myself in any lip-lock wars with other men this time because I didn’t want to see Taylor pull another stunt like he had the night before.

The other difference this time was that Taylor was openly flirting back with all of the FFs. The blonde twins, whom I was internally referring to as Buxom Blonde One and Two—or BB One and BB Two for short—were certainly making their interest blatantly known, rubbing their tits on the side of his arm. It didn’t help that they were voluptuously gorgeous. The urge to barf was strong, but I forced myself, though a difficult task to achieve, to look away and pretend I was enjoying the night.

I really did try. I danced with countless men, but I didn’t let it get past that. I didn’t need another close encounter with Taylor. No, not tonight . , N n ot when my emotions were at an all-time high. I simply didn’t trust myself around him.





Chapter 10


Taylor



Trista was behaving oddly tonight. The woman did flirt with men, but nothing big happened. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to moderate her antics or if she was merely trying to stay away from me.

I tried to enjoy the night with the New Yorker Twins, Allie and Ellie, but my eyes always ended up checking out what Trista was up to. Before I had gotten a great view of her nakedness last night, my watchful protectiveness would’ve been a normal thing, but, after that nice flash of temptation, I knew it wasn’t all for good intentions any longer.

I wanted that feisty cat of a woman. I wanted to see if she could be tamed and if she really drew those claws when I took her over and over again. I wanted her to fight me and, yet, I wanted her to give in to me. She was a raging hellcat to the highest order —beautiful, fiery, passionate and very much uncontainable—but I was drawn to that beautiful, feistiness. Her vulnerability couldn’t be seen when she was around people, but I knew better. I had witnessed her breakdown. Maybe that’s why I was so intrigued by Trista. Whatever it was, I wanted to get to know her. Hell, my body wanted to get to know her. She spat fire and oozed sadness. It was a heady mix.

Her conversation with Harry earlier had shaken the woman. For a short time, she had let me hold her as she cried her pain away. Holding her when she was clearly heart broken, changed me. I vowed then, that no matter what I did in the future, I wouldn’t let a woman be this miserable because of me. I didn’t have a sister, but if I did, I would kill the man who would hurt her this way. Harry was truly a sad, son of a bitch.

Though Trista tried to deny our attraction, I didn’t do much to renounce it. It crackled when we were in the same room and I badly wanted to explore that connection with her. Yet, she rejected me at every turn. It was a frustration that I had never been presented with before.

We were back from the club and here I was in the living room drinking as the twins rubbed themselves on either side of me. Twins had been a dream of mine back in the day, but staring at the girls didn’t even get me excited. Sure, I was hard, but for the woman who was in the bedroom, the one who slept without a scrap of underwear on.

I bid the twins goodbye when the sun was coming up. We were leaving back to Aspasia in the next few hours and I wasn’t even tempted to relieve myself with either of them. I’d rather savor the sweet torment the hellcat bestowed upon me. Very soon, I would have her underneath me, writhing for me, begging for me.

Yeah, the woman certainly got to me in the most primal way possible.





Chapter 11