Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(16)

“I . . .” Faith stopped and took a breath, understanding dawning.

She looked out to the street and where Serena’s familiar car was parked haphazardly. The ass end stuck out onto the street. The front of the car was wedged right up behind North Callaghan’s truck, barely a hair separating the two vehicles.

“Serena,” she drawled, her stomach twisting sickly. “Did you drive yourself here?”

She nodded sloppily. “Yes.” Leaning forward, she whispered loudly, one finger pressed over her lips as a gust of booze-laden air escaped her, “I’ve had a few beers.”

“A few?” It seemed like she had more than a few.

“I always get horny when I drink so I thought I’d take myself here.” She splayed her arms wide, nearly losing her balance. “North is always up for a good time.”

As in another sex marathon. “Well, here is my house, not North’s.” She jabbed a thumb to her left. “There is North’s house.”

Serena’s eyes grew comically large. “No way!”

“Yep.” Faith nodded. “You’ve knocked on the wrong door.” She shrugged. “It happens.” Especially when intoxicated.

Serena slammed both hands over her mouth. Sputtering sounds still managed to escape, however. The woman was on the verge of hysterical laughter. “For real! I’m sorry! That is hilarious!”

“It’s quite all right,” Faith said. “Happens more than you’d think.”

Really, it never happened. But living next door to Mr. Sexy Fun Times, it might become a thing.

Dropping her hands from her mouth, Serena stepped closer, squinting. “Is that guacamole on your face?” Wrinkling her nose, she stuck out a finger as though to test for herself.

“No! No, stop that.” Faith swatted at her hand, bobbing her head out of Serena’s range. She felt her hair flopping on top of her head, strands falling onto her forehead and getting stuck in the avocado mask.

Suddenly a yellow glow flooded the porch as the neighboring porch light flipped on and the door to the left pulled open.

Oh. No. NoNoNoNoNoNo. She wasn’t going to finally meet him now. Not like this. She wasn’t going to finally come face-to-face with him looking this way.

She resisted the urge to run inside and slam her door shut. So what if he saw her with a green avocado mask on her face and dressed like a thirteen-year-old girl at a slumber party? She wasn’t out to impress him. That ship had sailed. And clearly he was not out to impress her. He didn’t give a damn about her. Inexplicable anger sizzled through her at the ugly thought. The feeling was mutual. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself . . . that’s what she tried to convince herself.

Regaining her composure, she turned to face the neighbor who had been ignoring her notes, ignoring her—who did not have the courtesy to park in his own driveway or keep the sounds of fornicating to himself like any other respectable human being.

And then she saw him. Truly saw him.

Melting brown eyes. Dark hair hovered over naked shoulders, the strands uneven and layered, all the more appealing for the effortless nature of the style. This guy didn’t go to a salon or dump product in his hair.

And then there was his body. His body with all its curves and hollows. His abdomen with those tight ridges. He belonged on billboards advertising Calvin Klein underwear. He turned at the waist and his muscles bunched and danced in unbelievable ways. Her mouth dried and her heart kicked painfully against her chest. She’d seen a hint of this when he entered his house and when she’d spied on him in his backyard. But nothing had prepared her for the real up-close-and-personal reality of him.

His face was a study in beauty, too. Square-cut jaw and a beautiful well-carved mouth. Eyes so rich and deep. Eyelashes criminally long. A woman would throw down good money for those lashes.

None of this beauty was marred either by the jagged scar running down his face and ending at his jawline. It might have ruined another face, but not his. No, it added to his masculinity. Gave all that prettiness a hard edge. A half inch to the right and it would have sliced his eye, too. He must have been pretty once, but now he was this. A man whose face both drew and repelled. Enticed and intimidated.

He was the embodiment of her every sexual fantasy. Scratch that. He was the embodiment of every woman’s sexual fantasy. She could almost cry. Or laugh. She wasn’t sure which of the two was the stronger impulse.

His deep brown gaze skimmed over Serena before landing on Faith. She supposed they were both in bad shape, but Faith would probably win the prize for biggest freak show. Which was saying something considering Serena was swaying on her feet with bloodshot eyes and definitely looking like roadkill.

The world seemed to fade away as they assessed each other. It felt as though she had been barreling toward this moment for a long time rather than the week she had been living in her new house.

She was certain, of the two of them, she was the only one feeling this way. She probably never even crossed his radar. Especially considering he could never do the right thing and introduce himself to her or answer the damn door for her or pick up the phone and acknowledge any one of the notes she had left him. No, she was certain she was the only one who felt as though the world were fading away and leaving just the two of them standing in it.

His gaze swept over her. Instantly she wished she was wearing a bra at the very least. She felt vulnerable without one until she remembered that she was wearing the world’s baggiest T-shirt and her breasts were practically nonexistent anyway.