Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (8 page)

Her hand goes to the back of my neck and slowly travels into my hair. She gives a nice tug.

An electric zap shoots to my groin.

She sucks on my tongue and my hips flex, searching for her.
She needs to be on my lap
. Testing my luck, I slowly run my hands down her body, wishing her coat wasn’t in the way, and grip her waist.

The gasp she lets out dissolves into a moan. Her gentle hand travels into my coat and blazes a path down my chest. Her soft fingers glide dangerously close to the top button on my snow pants. My hands squeeze her waist, then knead their way around to cup her sweet, tight ass.

I want more.

More of her.

If I don’t get control over the situation now, I’m going to end up banging her in the back of my Hummer—something she’s probably not ready for, given the stress from tonight. I shouldn’t be kissing her. I groan and try to pull away.

She grips my hair and she moans against my mouth. "Morgan, stay."

Tap! Tap! Tap!

We jump apart.

Tryst.

             
Nine

Shay

Despite the cold air in the Hummer’s interior, my whole body heats with mortification. I’m thirty, not fifteen, but can’t help but feel like I’ve been caught making out behind the bleachers by a teacher.

Tryst scowls at me through the frosted glass of the driver’s side window. He doesn’t play the stare-down game with Morgan. What the hell is up with that? Some guy code or some shit? Blame the girl? Bros before hos? Tryst is supposed to be on my side. Not that there
is
a side, but it should be mine that he’s on if there is one. If anything, he should be death-glaring Morgan, not me.

Morgan smiles at me, arches a brow,
then opens the door.

Tryst’s brown eyes are accusing, like I should feel guilty for something. "Ben’s tucked in. He woke up for a minute, but nodded back out. Are you finally ready to stop being a baby and come inside?"

Baby?
This night couldn’t possibly get any worse. I hate that my cousin is mad at me, but maybe he does have a point. I should be able to handle being in the cabin with Wiley. I don’t have to see him. I’ll just go straight to my room and hopefully there is a lock on the door. Why didn’t I think of that before? Damn emotions. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have any.
Or have the power to bury them, like Tryst does.

I get out of the Hummer, slam the door, and light a cigarette. It was just a kiss. A really hot and all-consuming
one. What would have happened if Tryst hadn’t interrupted? Would I have let Morgan go further? I can’t look at him. I shouldn’t have allowed him to do that. Men, kissing, and sex. That’s not where I need to be right now. My goals are more important. And God, I was all over him.
Easy.
Like I want to be lumped into that category with Bebe.

I nod to Tryst, then blow out some smoke. "I’ll go check on him."

"We need more firewood.” Tryst turns to Morgan.

"There’s some in the shack.”

“Might need some help. We’re pretty low on logs.” Tryst eyes us for a minute, then we watch him trek through the snow toward the side of the cabin. When the dark swallows him, Morgan turns to me.

I finally meet his eyes with mortification painted on my cheeks, I’m sure. They’re hot.

Morgan takes my hand. “You good to go inside? I need to help Tryst.”

Inside. By myself. With Wiley there.
Hm… Ah, no. Silly as it sounds and as much as I don’t want to confront prick face, coming off needy bugs me more. “I’ll be fine. I’ll find the room Ben’s in and hang out there.”

“You sure?”

You’re not some dainty girl, Shay. Suck it up.
“Yeah, go. I’ll be fine.”

I’ve dealt with worse situations than Wiley, and I really don’t know what I was thinking about when I decided to spend the night in the Hummer. It was really immature of me. How embarrassing.

“Okay, if you’re sure you’ll be fine.” He nods toward the cabin. “He’s in the last room on the right, down the hall. It’s the only room we weren’t using.” He leans in and kisses my forehead.

I jerk away. Shit. “Sorry, I just think we need to slow down a little.”

He nods. “Okay. Night, Shay.”

“Night.”

He heads off in the direction where Tryst went.

I make quick work of finishing my cigarette and head into the cabin. The foyer has an open narrow walkway off to the side leading into a hall. That’s where Ben is. To the other side is an open stone kitchen and dining room. In front of me, stairs lead down to a sunk-in living room. The ceiling stretches high above my head into a point.

The place is enormous.
Wiley’s dad must be raking in the dough
. Bucket lights line each side of the ceiling, and skylights accompany them, with a huge antler chandelier hanging in the center. It’s beautiful. The log walls add to the cozy feeling and extend to the back wall that’s nothing but a gigantic window, a big cobblestone fireplace in the center. The flames are low and add warmth to the atmosphere. If I had money I’d definitely have a nice getaway like this.

Wiley’s nowhere to be seen. Ben’s sleeping. He doesn’t need me and I’m too wired with everything that has been going on to even attempt sleep. Maybe the guys do need help with the firewood after all. First I should check on Ben. Tryst said he was asleep, but after what happened he could’ve woken up and might need me. I need to make sure he’s okay.

I turn to head down the hall.

"Off to check on your brat?"

I jump and spin around. 

Wiley is standing there with a beer in his hand.

Fucking asshole.
Ben’s not a brat. What the hell has this guy got against kids? Being stuck here with Mr. Moody makes my stomach turn. Maybe I should apologize to relieve the tension. I don’t want to. He doesn’t deserve my apology, but if I don’t, it will be awkward for the rest of my stay. "Sorry I crashed–"

"No, you’re not." His eyes slither over me as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Excuse me?"

"Seemed like you were pretty damn happy to be riding shotgun next to my buddy." He scowls. "But if what you told me is true about your baby daddy, you’ll leave my buddy alone."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

He leans against the log wall dividing the kitchen and the sunken living room. "I saw you flirting with him. Watching him as he watched the road. I get it. A lot of women like
Morg.
A lot
."

"We’re just friends. Hell, I don’t even know if we’re that."

He shoves off the wall. "He wants to fuck you. I could tell by the way he was eying you up in your shop. Maybe he’ll like it and want to do it again. But that’s all you will ever be to a guy like him—just a fuck. If you’re fishing for a dad for your kid, you got the wrong guy."

I can’t believe he just said that to me.
I’d slap him, but I’m in shock. "And if I just want to fuck him?"

He laughs, but somehow I don’t think it’s out of amusement. He moves closer to me, and my heart knocks against my ribs. "If that were the case, doll, you wouldn’t have your kid wrapping–"

The door opens and Morgan and Tryst walk in, arms full of firewood.

"What’s going on?" Tryst says and gives Wiley his death glare.

God, I love Tryst.
At least that look isn’t pinned on me anymore.

Wiley takes the firewood from Tryst, juggling it with the beer bottle he’s still holding. "Just chatting with my houseguest." He winks at me and heads down the steps into the living room. "Nice talk, Shay."

Concern shines in Morgan's blue eyes. "You look upset. Did Wiley do something to you?"

"It’s okay." I rub my head to fake a headache. “I’m going to bed.” I need to check on Ben. After tonight I could
use a cuddle session with my little boy.

"I’ll show you where I put him." Tryst lightly grabs my arm to usher me down the hall.

I pause and look over my shoulder at Morgan. He’s heading down the steps into the living room. "Morgan."

He pauses.

"Thanks for coming back to get me."

He half smiles then nods. "Night, Shay."

"Night."

He disappears down the steps. Now that man is dangerous to a woman's libido. He's the first guy to resurrect my womanly needs since I swore off men three years ago. Why is that? It has to be a fluke. One night with him and I'll see that sex isn't what I need. Maybe I'll become a nun after. Ha! Okay, I couldn't become one because I don’t like church. Maybe just think like one?

"Come on." Tryst's words are clipped as he continues walking me toward the room he put Ben in. The muscles in his jaw are ticking.

"Are you mad at me?"

He stops in front of a door. "Yes, Shay. I’m mad at you. What were you thinking?"

I shrug my shoulders and go for an innocent smile. "Morgan’s hot?"

He takes a deep breath. "Shay, Morgan’s a nice guy and all–"

"Don’t give me this lecture, please." I know what he’s going to say. It’s about Gary.

"I just joined his band. You’re like a sister to me, and I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to have to kick his ass."

Not what I thought he was going to say
. "Maybe I just want to be with him one time. Ever think of that?"

"Consider Ben. He knows Morgan now. He likes Morgan. If something bad happens between you two, he'll be crushed."

"If I sleep with Morgan, I sure as hell won’t tell Ben. Right now, Ben only thinks he’s a customer that helped us when we were stuck on the side of the road."

"If that’s the case. Say you do have sex with him and he comes into the shop after. You’re telling me shit
ain’t gonna be awkward? If you sleep with him once and that’s it, you’ll become a mark on his groupie counter. He’s gonna talk about it. It’s what guys do when they sleep with someone they don’t care about. You think I want to listen to that? You think I want to know how well you suck a dick or how good or bad you are in bed?" He shakes his head. "I don’t want to hear that shit, because I swear, Shay, I’ll knock him the fuck out."

I was just going with my feelings. But Tryst is right. I hate it when he’s right. Everything I’ve been doing since Gary got locked up is for Ben. How could one guy with smoldering blue eyes, a deep, earthy voice, and a sexy body make me forget all that?

Tryst opens the door.

Ben’s sleeping. The light blue glow from the TV bounces off the brown comforter he’s snuggled in.

"I gave him one of my T-shirts. The second he hit the bed, he was out." Tryst grabs the door handle and for a moment I wonder if he'll stand guard outside the door to make sure I stay in here and don’t sneak out to find Morgan. When did I become fifteen again?

"Thanks, Tryst."

"Don’t thank me. I would have rescued you regardless. God, Shay. When I saw it was your car–"

I give him a hug. He lectured me because he loves me. He’d do just about anything for me. I owe it to him to give this some serious thought before I go any further with Morgan. "Night, Tryst."

He breaks our hug and gives me a noogie. "Night, Shay."

Morgan

“What did you say to Shay?" I walk down the steps and put the firewood into the rack next to the fireplace. Wiley still hasn’t answered my question.

I plop down on the couch next to him. My nerves are shot. I need a joint. No, nix that. I need a big fat blunt. My body has never wanted THC so bad. I eye his beer—like that’ll help. Sighing, I lean back and put my hands behind my head. It doesn’t calm me. My knee bobs up and down like I caught Wiley’s ADHD complex.

Wiley reaches into his pocket and throws a quarter bag down on the coffee table in front of me. "You need to smoke."

Fuck.
You don’t need it. It’s not worth it. You promised Bryan.

Not working.

Eyeballing the bag, all I want to do is spark up. Want the high to settle my nerves. My palms are sweaty. It’s hot in here. Granted, I’m still wearing my snow pants. I stand up and begin pulling them off. "No, I don’t need to smoke."

"Yes. You do. You’ve been different, man. Ever since you lost the bet, you’ve been quiet." He takes a swig of his beer. "Don’t like it."

Chucking the pants, I sit down on the couch, bent over, with my arms on my knees. I press my forearms against the denim of my jeans, hoping the friction will calm the craving. Not working, it’s too strong. I stare at the bag. "Put it away."

"No one’s
gonna know if you slip out back and take a puff or two. I’ll cover for you with Tryst, and I’m not gonna say anything. I always got your back, but I don’t like this new you. You need the pot, man. Take it."

Wiley’s the devil on my shoulder, urging me to fall
just so he can laugh. He thinks he knows me. Thinks I’ll slip up. I snare the bag and crack the seal.

He’s right.
No one would know
. Putting a finger into the bag, sticky leaves attach themselves to me. It’s perfect bud, and the high it promises would calm my nerves enough for me to think straight. Bringing the bag up, I sniff. As the strong scent hits, my body buzzes with the anticipation of getting high.

A hand swipes the bag from me and I glance up to find Tryst scowling at me. "I see what you’re about now."

I hold up my hands. "I was just testing the consistency."

"Uh-huh." His brow quirks and he looks over at Wiley. "You cheated."

Tryst thinks I'm shady.
"I know how it looks. But I swear I wasn’t–"

"I’m talking to Wiley."

"Huh?" I look over at him.

Wiley tips his beer toward me and looks at Tryst. "I just provided him with the means to smoke it. I didn’t push him to."

He did. He knows how much I rely on pot to calm my nerves.

"I overheard you." Tryst spears him with a glare, then looks at me. "Wiley and Bryan made a bet. Bryan thinks you won’t. Wiley thinks you will. One of the conditions was that Wiley couldn’t prompt you, and Bryan couldn’t stop you. But I’m not Bryan."