Razor's Edge (Afflictions) (9 page)

Wiley shoots off the couch. "That’s not fair. You can’t stop him."

"I wouldn’t have done it anyway. I lost the bet. I always hold up my end." I’m a little hurt that my best friend, since we were in preschool, thinks I’m going to renege on my end of the bargain. He knows me better, or I thought he knew me better. Or maybe he does. For a minute there I thought about taking Wiley’s bad advice—packing a bowl
and slipping outside. If Tryst hadn’t caught us, I might have done it. I curse under my breath. "Wiley, what did you say to Shay?"

"What?" Wiley plops back down on the couch.

The anger I felt in the car returns as I look at the man I thought was my friend. He thinks I'm ignorant, that I didn't catch the thing that passed between them when I came in. "I saw her face. She was looking at me differently. You said something to her. What was it?”

Wiley takes another swig of his beer and pins me with a glare. "I just let her know what you’re about."

My stomach sinks. He just ruined my chance with her. "You cock-blocked me?"

Tryst growls. His brown eyes are glaring at me.

I shouldn’t have put it that way. But shit, I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m attracted to her, yeah, but I’m not ready to go
there
. My mind is telling me to back off. The kiss was some deep shit. I felt a connection. The best thing to do is back out, to lay off her. But my body wants to climb all over her and rub her until we’re both sated.

"She has a kid, man." Wiley smirks. "A kid that, from the looks of it, has attached himself to you. We just got signed; you can’t have a woman fucking with your head. I did you a favor."

He has a point. That doesn’t help calm the urge I have to throttle him.

"Ben won’t know if we do something." I run my hands through the spikes in my hair and look down at the green carpet. When I raise my head, Wiley is shaking his, and Tryst is scowling. "As far as he knows, I’m Tryst’s friend. He doesn’t have to know anything different."

"You’re more jacked up on her than I thought if you can’t see that the kid notices something between you and his mom." Wiley heads into the kitchen but calls over his shoulder. "He's smart. Give him more credit than that."

"Wiley’s right. If we can see how bad you want her,
it’s not getting by him. He’s been through a lot. She’s been through more." Tryst’s wearing that look again, the one from the other night outside Harper’s. The “I could kill you with one arm tied behind my back” look. "I like you. Don’t make me put you in the hospital when this shit goes sour." He puts the quarter bag in his pocket and heads into the hall.

Shit.Who
knew one kiss could cause so much drama?

    
Ten

Shay

Damn blankets. My legs are twisted in the flat sheet. This is why I only use a comforter. I have no idea what time it is, but I can’t sleep. It’s not that I’m lying in a different bed, or even the stress from tonight that’s keeping me awake.

It’s Morgan.

That kiss. The tender way his lips melted against mine and the hot possessiveness that came after. It was left undone and it’s nagging at me. We should’ve gone further. I need more. For a moment I was afraid Gary ruined me for men. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Tryst made some sense, but the more I think about his lecture, the more it doesn’t. Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I can’t have fun—I only need to be careful about it.

Pulling the comforter off of me so that I don’t wake Ben, I make my way to the door and crack it. I don’t want to go wandering around someone’s cabin in the dark. What if I run into Prick-Face?
Wiley is probably passed out. You can do this. A quick trip to the kitchen, a glass of water, and back again.

I look back at Ben, lightly snoring.

Taking a deep breath, I stick my head out into the hall.
Really don’t want to run into Wiley.

A warm glow from the night-light shows me a path to
the kitchen. It’s not that far. I rub my hand on the side of the pajama bottoms Tryst let me barrow and make my way quietly down the hall. It’s nuts to be thinking the way I am, but I feel like an intruder. I have Wiley to thank for that emotion. He was sure to let me know how unwelcome I am.

The hall comes to an end and I'm forced to leave the glow behind. I put my hand out in front of me to feel my way through the ink until my toes hit the cool stone tile of the kitchen. As I crack the fridge door, the ice maker clacks.

I freeze.

Shit.
I strain my ears. All is quiet. Grabbing a bottle of water, I close the door. Turning on my heels, a mumbled singing stops me.

The words are hard to make out. I shake my head to clear the haze from the soft melody behind me, then start to head down the–

"
My body’s burning, your lips are cold
!"

The lyrics are more of a soft scream. Like Morgan wants to belt it out louder but is holding back, probably because he doesn’t want to wake everyone in the house. Clearly those lyrics are meant to be screamed into a
mic, not sung. Unable to stop myself, I turn and creep toward the room Morgan is in.
I shouldn’t be doing this.

"
I want your sin, you take my soul...! Need your passion, you want my pain! I give it up, I’m yours to gain
...!" The singing-slash-quiet-screaming stops as I near a door.

"Fuck! That’s not right."

I flinch.
Yup, definitely shouldn’t be here.
The frustration in Morgan’s voice has me wanting to book it back down the hall. If he’s angry with himself, I don’t want to be around that negative energy. It sure as hell won’t help me sleep. As I go to leave, his soft voice and a few light strums from a guitar halt me.

"
There’s secrets behind those lips, ones that I haven’t missed, don’t think I can’t see right to you... I know about the pain, the hurt from someone else’s gain, you’re guarded and I know why
..."

Before I can talk sense into my hands and feet, I reach for the knob and open the door.

"Shay!" Morgan jumps off the bed. His guitar falls to the carpet. He scrambles to put away a notebook and pen.

Shit.

He looks past me into the hall and his cheeks turn pink.

I made Morgan blush.
It’s not like I caught him jerking it or something, but the tension in the air between us makes me feel like I have.
What he’s wearing isn’t helping the situation either.
The plain white T-shirt is the perfect contrast to his sexy, tan biceps. My eyes drift down to his waist. The way his black and plaid pajama bottoms hug him makes me
—I wonder what he's packing?

He clears his throat.

What is the matter with me?
This
so
isn’t the right time to be checking him out
.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. "Um...I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I saw the light–"

"How much did you hear?" He looks down at his guitar and rights it.

"Um..." It’s clear he’s hoping I didn’t hear what he was singing, but we both
know
that I did. Should I tell him I heard the lyrics that were meant to be a scream? Nah. That might make this situation even more awkward. "Just the last couple of lines. You have a captivating voice."

He half-laughs, sits on the bed and runs his hands over his face. "You don’t have to give me false compliments to save my embarrassment."

What the hell? How can the confident singer I saw on stage be the insecure man I see now? Before I can stop myself I’m moving farther into the room, silently willing his eyes to meet mine, but to no avail. There’s a vulnerability to him that makes me curious. 

"I meant what I said, I love your voice."

He flinches then looks up. His eyes tell me nothing.

I sit down on the bed next to him. I want to touch him, rub his back or do something to give him a vote of confidence, but I have a feeling it won’t help the situation. "I didn’t mean to intrude on you. But you do sound—"

"I know how I sound when I’m practicing." He glances at me with those startlingly blue eyes, and I wonder why the man can’t take a compliment. "And I don’t like people hearing my lyrics without Wiley checking them first. He’s better at song writing."

"Uh...in case you haven’t noticed, I never bullshit. When I say you have a great voice, I mean it."

He laughs and shakes his head. "I know. You did call me a junkie when I’m not." He nods. "You’re crazy blunt."

I don’t know whether to be happy that he’s not sad anymore, or mortified that he remembers the talk we had in the hall. Most conversations are forgotten after a while. The ones that stand out have profound effects. So what made Morgan imprint that convo into his memory and why?

I cringe. "My filter vanishes when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have said that."

Morgan quirks his lip. "You were nervous?"

"I was star-struck." My stomach flips. I take a deep breath and try to hold in my next words. "I wanted you to notice me. God, that sounds so silly."

A genuine smile crosses his face.

My heart’s thumping so fast it’s ahead of my traitorous mouth. "But you didn’t notice me until I was look—"

"You’re beautiful, Shay."

A shockwave goes through my body, heading south.

"And I did notice you on the platform." He pulls his lip ring into his mouth and plays with it.

He has the perfect lips. Damn. I want to play with that ring.

His strong shoulders drop on a sigh.

A vision of holding them as he's thrusting into me slams into my psyche and fire coils deep in my core. The T-shirt he's wearing is thin and muscles bunch beneath it as he turns toward me. My fingers itch to rip it off and stroke over those pecs, those abs. His skin will be warm and I want to feel every cut and hard curve.

If his kisses me now, I’d do it. No questions asked. Tryst’s logic makes no sense. So what, I’m a mom. If someone wants my body, I have the right to act on it.

Morgan

Shay places a hand on my thigh and her eyes darken. A blast of heat goes through me, straight to my groin.
Does she even know what she’s starting here?
She’s staring at my lips and hers part. She takes a deep breath, and I can’t stop my vision from going to the swell of her perfectly round breasts. They're tucked snugly in her red T-shirt, no bra. The nipples peeking through look a little lonely. Maybe they need my tongue.

A storm rages inside me like the blizzard outside pounding against the cabin. My cock swells behind my flannel pajama pants as each movement of her delicate hand inches closer.

As she closes the gap between us, the sweet scent of her orange-blossom perfume makes me wish I had brought some condoms. Can’t have sex without one. Laying her down on my bed—
not my bed—
Wiley’s bed. Wiley took his parent’s room because it’s more luxurious. And if I know my friend, there are some in his nightstand.

"What do you want, Shay?"

She moves her mouth so it hovers inches from mine. "I wanna have some fun. No strings."

My cock twitches and I groan. “Touch me.”

Her hand, so smooth and gentle, rubs my pecs. A bolt of lightning rockets through me. She lifts the hem of my shirt. Her soft fingers touch my skin, and every cell zaps to life. She leans in and plants feathery kisses on my neck, leaving goose bumps along my skin. All the blood rushes between my legs as her hand moves south. My cock strains toward her.
Ah, fuck.

She gently brushes it.

My entire body is like a live wire. I crush her lips and she tastes like honey. The kiss we had in my Hummer has got nothing on this one. Her acceptance of me makes me want her more. Lacing my fingers into her hair, I slide my tongue into her willing mouth, and a power surges inside.

I need more.

More of her.

I pull her onto my lap and move her against my erection. Like an exotic dancer, she expertly glides against me, the friction making my balls tighten. Everything about her is soft and sweet.
I need to be in her.
She moans into my mouth, the vibrations shooting straight to my groin and into my soul.

My hands go to her firm ass, and it takes all I have not to knead her so rough I’ll leave bruises. I’ve wanted to do this since I first saw her. Her taste as I nip, suck, and kiss down the side of her neck is everything I’d thought it’d be. Sweet, like her.
Orange blossoms.
That scent will forever remind me of the amazing woman in my arms.

She groans and arches her back, taking her T-shirt off, slowly. Revealing her perfect breasts. I palm the weight of them with one hand and lean in to kiss along her delicate neck. I’m high, but not off of weed. Off of her. Her acceptance of the real me. The side that comes out without the drug.

Shay

My core is on fire. I thread my hands into his messy black hair and move myself against him. His kisses along my neck have me feeling like the sexiest woman alive. His hand travels from the back of my head and blazes a hot path toward my nipple. He rolls it between his fingers. Tingles
shoot through my breast. I cry out. He’s taking his sweet time, making sure I receive pleasure. Something I’ve never had in the arms of a man before.

"You smell so good." He nips my neck.

I melt under his words and his fevered assault on my body. He embraces me and all I can think about is getting closer to him. It’s been three years since I’ve had sex. I never came across anyone that I thought about in that way, but he has my body set to a Morgan meltdown.

He picks me up and shifts so that I’m lying on the bed. He grinds his hard length against me, and still I want more. His strong hands skim gently up my side, turning my core into a knot of hummingbirds. Heat travels over my engorged nipple as his thumb brushes over it. I moan and arch my breasts into him. He covers them with his mouth and his tongue swirls a few times, then he nips. A jolt shoots to my pussy and travels to my toes, making me instantly wet for him.

Lightly licking and sucking, he makes his way down my body. When he reaches the waistband of my pajama bottoms, he stops. Glancing up at me, his smoldering glare locks me in place, promising me something wicked.

Unease knocks against my chest. I've never had anyone go down on me. Gary never would. What if Morgan doesn’t like that part of me?

The ice-blue color of his eyes shrinks as his pupils dilate and flicker with devilish intent. He softly licks and kisses my hip, teasing me as his hands run over the planes of my stomach and thighs. Electricity shoots through my veins. This feeling is too new, and I don't know how to handle it.

Ripping off my pajama bottoms, Morgan takes my red boy shorts with them, and I’m bare. Completely naked before him. This should make me feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t. The heated look he gives me dissolves all my worries. It’s somehow oddly familiar, like we’ve done this before, but new and exciting at the same time.

"God." He groans. "No hair." He lightly travels his fingers around my mound and then sinks them inside. "So wet."

My core clenches.
Morgan
. Someone I don’t really know but feel like I have known a lifetime. He circles his fingers. I arch off the bed and moan. He rises up and looms over me. Watching my face as though he’s eager to see my reactions.

All my emotions and feelings crash. I freeze, then flush.

His lidded eyes and parted lips put me at ease.
He’s enjoying this.
His palm rubs my clit as his talented fingers flick inside me. A wave of euphoria seizes me, washing away my embarrassment and short-circuiting my control.