Irreparably Broken (Irreparable 1)

Brady’s voice is in my ear, whispering. “He touching you like he doesn’t have a clue you’re just friends.”

His voice plays tricks with my thoughts as he leads me away from the crowd, not stopping until we are hidden away between two cars. When he lets go of my arm, my eyes drink him in. He’s in board shorts and a T-shirt, nothing special, but on Brady sexy as hell.

What is he doing here? I thought he was with Jesse. “Jesus, Brady, I haven’t had a chance to tell him. I told him I wanted to talk, and I was politely waiting for him to finish up with his friend.”

Threading his fingers through my hair, he glares at me with so much heat I might disintegrate if he doesn’t stop soon. He slams my body up against the car, pulling one of my legs up and holding it around his waist, palming my backside. The hand wrapped around my hair yanks gently, and I throw my head back. He starts trailing kisses down my neck, and bites gently into my skin.

“I’ve thought about you since the moment I left today, and I can’t wait to be buried deep inside you again. You’re mine, Sunshine. Please talk to him. I can’t stand watching him touch you.”

“Okay,” I answer, short of breath.

With that, he smiles wickedly and lets go of me. I watch him walk back toward the crowd and disappear behind a curtain of people.

The heat throbbing in my core prevents me from moving, and it takes me a minute to compose myself enough to return to the party. Flush warms my skin, and I’m positive I have freshly fucked hair from my brief but erotic encounter with Brady.

When I return to the party, I’m lifted off my feet and spun around in a circle by a very drunk Tug. After setting me down, he says, “I’m stoked you made it, Tor.”

I smile up at him. “Me, too. Looks like you’re having a good time.”

“I’m having a fantastic fucking time.” He smiles a lopsided smile. His warm hand cups my cheek. “You look beautiful tonight, Tori.” His hand falls away, and blush dusts my cheeks from his compliment.

An unnerving wave rolls through my gut. His words were lacking their usual sarcasm, sounding more adoring and sincere. I shake it off. He’s been drinking, right? We chat for a minute, and then he leaves me to go in search of another beer.

When I finally find Harrison again, I start to pull him away from the party, fretting over how to let him down easy, when a guy who’s noticeably drunk approaches us with two hats in his hands.

“Pick a number.” At least, that’s what I think he says. His words are slurred and sound like he’s swallowing his tongue. Harrison takes a number from the blue hat he's holding , and I pick a number out of the pink hat, although I have no idea what it’s for. I unfold the small square of paper revealing number 37.

I hold the piece of paper in the air and look at Mr. Wobbly. “What is this for?”

“We’re racing the jet skis later,” he answers, swaying in the sand.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Harrison asks.

“Yes, that’s why we wait until it’s dark.” The guy answers rudely. Clearly he thinks Harrison is an imbecile for not knowing.

“What are the numbers for?” I ask.

“They’re for a couple’s race. Once it’s dark, we’ll call two girl and two boy numbers, and couple them up to race.”

I stuff the number in my pocket, watching the guy stumble away. Harrison and I laugh. “Wow! I hope I don’t end up on the back of a jet ski with that guy,” I joke.

Harrison’s watching me apprehensively. “So, what’d you want to talk about?”

“Harrison…I…”

“Tor, thank God I found you.” Liv yanks on my arm, teetering in the sand, and points a finger down the beach. “Those assholes stole all my money in poker, and I need you to get it back.”

I shake my head, irritated that she’s interrupted my chance to send Harrison packing. “Liv, how many times have I told you not to play poker? Honestly, you suck at it.”

She stomps her feet in the sand. “I thought I could win this time. Can you help me get my money back, please?”

“Fiiiine. Come on.” I grab her hand and stumble through the sand toward the table where a group of guys are playing poker.

Harrison follows us. “You play poker?”

“She doesn’t just play poker, she kills it,” Liv brags. “You have to see this, Harrison.”

When I arrive at the table, it’s packed with college-age guys all acting as though they’ve seen one too many Texas Hold ’Em tournaments on television. As I watch a few hands, I laugh, noticing each and every one of these clowns has a tell. One guy has his hoodie pulled up over his head and the strings drawn in tightly around his face to hide his expressions. Too bad for him, he yanks on the strings every time he’s bluffing. The guy in the sunglasses pushes them up the bridge of his nose whenever he has a decent hand. Another guy spins his watch. Each and every one of them is a sucker destined to give back Liv’s money…and any money they brought into the game.