Unthinkable (Unstoppable 2)

“Liss? You okay?”

The thread of concern in Olivia's voice pulled me from my thoughts. Blinking, I realized I’d stopped moving. I turned to find her gaze on me, her dark brows knitted.

“Yeah.” My lips twitched in my best attempt at a smile. “Fine.”

She was as close to a friend as I had here in Florida, but I hadn’t shared what was going on with anyone. Not even Riley. Not during our frequent phone calls, or the week she’d visited over spring break.

Olivia’s frown deepened, her unwavering scrutiny threatening to peel back the layers of my carefully constructed façade. I swallowed and glanced away, eyes skating around the room and settling on a cluster of four guys standing at the edge of the dance floor. Sifting through the group without hesitation, I instantly disregarded the two brawny blondes, and then a copper haired guy with inked sleeves climbing up his forearms. Which left one.

Fair skinned with a slim build and a mop of shaggy brown hair that curled around the tops of his ears. At well under six feet, he was the shortest of the bunch, only a couple of inches taller than me, at most. He might have been attractive; I didn't notice. Didn’t care.

All that mattered was he looked nothing like Leon Bradshaw.

Of the three guys I'd brought back to the room since the start of the year, that was the only prerequisite. I didn't look too closely into it. Didn't need to.

“You'll do,” I muttered to myself, moving away from Olivia's stare, and blocking out her sighed Liss.

Prowling across the room, I noticed Short Guy’s eyebrow piercing, and the two tattoos peeking out beneath the short sleeves of the hunter green tee that matched his eyes.

“Hey,” I said.

Four heads swivelled to the sound of my voice, pausing before making a slow track down my face and over my body. I wasn't a stranger to the leering look these guys were throwing me, but it never failed to activate my bitch sensor—even when I invited it.

It was programmed into me, an ingrained part of my DNA. Resisting it didn’t come easy. My lips itched to curl into a snarl or unleash a disparaging remark—the words practically bristled against the seam of my lips. Reaching for the froth-topped beer in Short Guy's hand, I put it to my lips and threw my head back to take a deep swallow that kept my mouth occupied.

“Hey, darlin'.”

The smooth, throaty drawl came from one of the blondes—the better looking one. The one who brimmed with easy confidence and a boatload of swagger.

Of course it did.

Tilting my head and lowering the glass from my mouth, I gave him my attention.

His blue eyes sparked before sliding down my torso again, sticking to my bare thighs. The denim shorts I'd paired with a slinky, black camisole were barely legal; tight enough to be uncomfortable and short enough that my ass cheeks hung out the bottom.

I'd worn them for a reason. I hadn't intended to go home alone tonight.

But Golden Boy wouldn't be coming with me.

I twisted round to Short Guy, pressing the glass back into his hand and curving my lips up a fraction.

A glimmer of surprise flitted through his speckled eyes as he read my intention. Based on his reaction, I’d say he wasn't used to being singled out amongst his group of friends.

All three of them were broader, taller, more conventionally handsome.

They were everything I wasn't looking for.

Slipping my tongue between my lips, I waited until his gaze locked on it, then dragged it back through my teeth slowly and watched his pupils expand.

“What's your name?” I asked.

Those moss-green eyes took on a dazed quality as he straightened, blinking twice, and swiping a quick hand through his unruly hair. “Uh... Evan. Ev. Call me Ev.”

He offered his free hand; I placed mine into it. Time suspended for a few fleeting seconds as I waited for… something. Anything. A flutter, a twinge. I'd take a bolt of fucking static electricity at this point.

Nothing.

There couldn't be just one damn man in the whole fucking world who could stir a reaction in me.