hell? I needed to stop thinking about her breasts. Totally off-limits.
But because I was a dude and once that image took hold, I pictured them in my hands and her back arching into my touch—
“Shit,” I growled. Lust stirred with a vengeance—that heated, almost-crazed kind of lust that never amounted to anything good.
And the way she’d been looking at me? No. No way. I had to be imagining that shit, because this was Syd, for chrissakes. She was my Syd, but never in that way. And there was no way she could be looking at me with those damn baby blue eyes of hers filled with want. Like she had wanted me to do something about the fact she’d been standing there with barely anything on.
Like she had wanted me to see her.
Aw, hell, I had seen her.
And there was a good chance I was losing my damn mind, because Syd had never looked at me like that. She just simply didn’t think of me that way, or—as far as I knew—any guy that way. Not since that punk-ass Nate had screwed her over. Ever since then, she just didn’t date. And I was okay with that, because I hadn’t met one guy who was good enough for her, and especially not me, not after what she’d said in the car on the way up here.
I pushed off the door and crossed the bedroom. Yanking my hoodie over my head, I tossed that and the shirt underneath onto the bed.
I headed into the shower, not because I really needed one, but because I just had to do something before I really did do something stupid.
And there was a lot of stupid in me—a whole lot.
I was still rocking the hard-on of my life, which I told myself had nothing to do with Syd, when I stepped into the hot spray of water. Probably had more to do with the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid last night. Yeah, that sounded good. There was only one way to fix this without a cold shower. Resting my head against the slick tile, I reached down and closed my eyes.
It was fast. It was hard. And I thought about the wrong person the whole time.
Sydney
I stared at the back of the bar, eyeing the bottles of liquor like they were the only things that could cure my humiliation. And they could, because if I drank enough, I probably wouldn’t care that Kyler had seen me in my undies and laughed.
He had laughed .
The bar was packed, everyone talking about the snowstorm that was now apparently going to make West Virginia its own personal snow-bitch. It was too late to leave. All we could do was hope it wasn’t as bad as they were predicting.
Spying an opening, I squeezed myself between a girl with a lot of blonde hair and some dude in a flannel jacket. I glanced over my shoulder and sighed. Kyler was where I’d left him, attention riveted on the statuesque brunette he apparently knew from waaay back. Her name was Sasha. She looked like a Sasha.
Ah, listen to me. I was being such a bitter bitch.
I watched her place a hand on his shoulder and lean in, so that her breasts—much bigger than mine—pressed against his arm. She said something and he smiled. Not the full smile that showed off those dimples, but more like the cat that was about to eat an entire cage of canaries.
Kyler looked up at the moment, his gaze finding me across the crowded tables. I turned away and found myself staring at the bartender’s slim black tie. Fancy.
He smiled. “What can I get you, honey?”
Since ‘a brain’ wasn’t provided in a bottle, I went with the next best thing. “A shot of Jose.”
The bartender’s brows rose a little. “ID?”
I dug out my license and handed it over.
He checked it out, and then handed it back. “Barely twenty-one.” Surprise colored his voice. “I would’ve pegged you for eighteen.”
“Story of my life.” I leaned against the bar, handing over my credit card to open a tab.
The bartender laughed as he turned, grabbing a bottle off the racks. I never knew what to do at bars. It was like an awkward experience in how not to stand out and look like I didn’t belong. It didn’t help
But because I was a dude and once that image took hold, I pictured them in my hands and her back arching into my touch—
“Shit,” I growled. Lust stirred with a vengeance—that heated, almost-crazed kind of lust that never amounted to anything good.
And the way she’d been looking at me? No. No way. I had to be imagining that shit, because this was Syd, for chrissakes. She was my Syd, but never in that way. And there was no way she could be looking at me with those damn baby blue eyes of hers filled with want. Like she had wanted me to do something about the fact she’d been standing there with barely anything on.
Like she had wanted me to see her.
Aw, hell, I had seen her.
And there was a good chance I was losing my damn mind, because Syd had never looked at me like that. She just simply didn’t think of me that way, or—as far as I knew—any guy that way. Not since that punk-ass Nate had screwed her over. Ever since then, she just didn’t date. And I was okay with that, because I hadn’t met one guy who was good enough for her, and especially not me, not after what she’d said in the car on the way up here.
I pushed off the door and crossed the bedroom. Yanking my hoodie over my head, I tossed that and the shirt underneath onto the bed.
I headed into the shower, not because I really needed one, but because I just had to do something before I really did do something stupid.
And there was a lot of stupid in me—a whole lot.
I was still rocking the hard-on of my life, which I told myself had nothing to do with Syd, when I stepped into the hot spray of water. Probably had more to do with the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid last night. Yeah, that sounded good. There was only one way to fix this without a cold shower. Resting my head against the slick tile, I reached down and closed my eyes.
It was fast. It was hard. And I thought about the wrong person the whole time.
Sydney
I stared at the back of the bar, eyeing the bottles of liquor like they were the only things that could cure my humiliation. And they could, because if I drank enough, I probably wouldn’t care that Kyler had seen me in my undies and laughed.
He had laughed .
The bar was packed, everyone talking about the snowstorm that was now apparently going to make West Virginia its own personal snow-bitch. It was too late to leave. All we could do was hope it wasn’t as bad as they were predicting.
Spying an opening, I squeezed myself between a girl with a lot of blonde hair and some dude in a flannel jacket. I glanced over my shoulder and sighed. Kyler was where I’d left him, attention riveted on the statuesque brunette he apparently knew from waaay back. Her name was Sasha. She looked like a Sasha.
Ah, listen to me. I was being such a bitter bitch.
I watched her place a hand on his shoulder and lean in, so that her breasts—much bigger than mine—pressed against his arm. She said something and he smiled. Not the full smile that showed off those dimples, but more like the cat that was about to eat an entire cage of canaries.
Kyler looked up at the moment, his gaze finding me across the crowded tables. I turned away and found myself staring at the bartender’s slim black tie. Fancy.
He smiled. “What can I get you, honey?”
Since ‘a brain’ wasn’t provided in a bottle, I went with the next best thing. “A shot of Jose.”
The bartender’s brows rose a little. “ID?”
I dug out my license and handed it over.
He checked it out, and then handed it back. “Barely twenty-one.” Surprise colored his voice. “I would’ve pegged you for eighteen.”
“Story of my life.” I leaned against the bar, handing over my credit card to open a tab.
The bartender laughed as he turned, grabbing a bottle off the racks. I never knew what to do at bars. It was like an awkward experience in how not to stand out and look like I didn’t belong. It didn’t help
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