Ocean (Damage Control 5)

I follow him through the familiar din and low lights of the bar to the back, to our usual table. People jostle me on the way, and Christ, my ribs ache. I remember the seatbelt digging into my flesh from the impact of the collision.

I trace the outline from my shoulder across my chest and fucking ow.

Awesome. This will take more alcohol than initially thought.

As Micah heads off to the bar to get our drinks, I take in the table. There is Jesse and Amber in deep discussion, heads bent together. Cassie, who’s sitting with Ev and Kayla, waves at me.

“You’re late!” Kayla shouts over the music and the noise, a huge smile splitting her face. “Come sit with us.”

She pats the empty chair beside her, and I hesitate.

Never hesitated before. But then I grin at her and see the light in her eyes brighten. “Hey, Kay.”

“Hey yourself. What’s up?”

I shrug. “Nothing new.”

“Come on, Mr. Storm, what’s with the long face? Need me to tickle your ribs for you to crack a smile, or aren’t you happy to see me?”

“’Course I’m happy.”

She smiles at me and my grin widens, like her smile is some sort of weird drug. A pretty dose of Xanax, packaged in a pretty face and a hot, curvy body.

“We’re talking about the Fast and Furious movies,” she says. “You like those, right? Come on. I know you have an opinion about the visual effects.”

“Yeah.” I do like those movies, because of a past I can’t put behind me, but right now I can’t help glancing from her soft mouth to her tits and back.

Jesus, Ocean. Get a grip.

But my dick is rock hard and throbbing. A sudden visual of kissing Kayla, grinding my hard-on against her hits me like a bullet, and I jerk guiltily.

No, goddammit. This is the mother of all bad ideas. Counting in my head backward from one hundred, I will my hard-on to subside.

To buy myself time, I pull off my jacket and drape it on the back of the chair. Shane, Seth and Manon arrive and settle around the table, looking kinda grim, and I wonder if Seth is really okay or if he’s downplaying an injury he hasn’t told anyone about.

He’s good at hiding such things. After all the broken bones and dislocated joints and surgery he’s been through in the past year, I really fucking hope he hasn’t suffered anything serious this time.

He seems all right, though. He winks at Manon, snickers at something Shane says. Relief washes through me.

The whole gang is here. It’s good to see them, and normally I’d be the one dragging them out to have fun on a Friday night, not the other way round.

Need to get my shit together.

Problem is, with Kayla perched right beside me, still chatting excitedly with Ev and Cassie about movies, her fruity scent invading my senses and her laughter filling my ears, it’s hard.

To get my shit together, that is. But that’s not the only thing that’s getting harder and harder.

Licking my lips, I clasp my hands on the table in front of me. Then I turn around to check whether Micah is coming back with those drinks. I exhale and find myself fidgeting, my eyes straying back to Kayla.

She’s like an exotic bird, full of colors. The lime green top she’s wearing clings to her perfect tits in a damn distracting way, and with those big gray eyes, the huge glittering earrings and the cherry lipstick, she’s like a fruity shot to my dick.

She’s waving her small hand, and there’s a pink plastic ring on her middle finger. As she shifts on her seat, I catch a glimpse of pale skin between her top and her purple skirt.

My mouth has gone dry. Forget about losing my hard-on. No fucking way. My dick is a steel rod in my pants, aching and twitching.

Christ.

Micah arrives with the beers, and I snatch mine and swallow half of it in one go. Man, I needed that. He says something and I nod, not really listening, because she’s leaning over the table, pressing those pretty tits into its surface, her cleavage pulling down until I can see the pale mound of flesh.