Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC 2)

Gwen looked at me blankly, and I was happy to see she looked…okay. She didn’t look like she was on the verge of breaking down. She wasn’t that shell she was a year ago. She looked strong. I let out a teeny breath.

“Hello Amy, how’s it going? Want to say hello to Ian who just got home from an unknown warzone?” was Gwen’s sarcastic response. Okay, so she was fine.

I swallowed, unsure if I could glance his way without laying all of my feelings on my sleeve for Gwen to see. The room felt like it was crackling with electricity; I could feel his presence, the heat of his gaze on me. I willed myself to glance in his direction with an impassive stare on my face. I focused on why I was mad.

“Sorry, Ian, didn’t mean to be rude. I was just a little preoccupied with the whole ‘Gwen getting a phone call from a murderous psychopath’ situation.” I decided sarcasm was the best form of defense.

But as my eyes locked with Ian’s everything fell away. I drank him in greedily as he pushed up from his chair, striding toward me, not breaking eye contact. He was bigger, his muscles more defined. His eyes glowed with intensity.

Then I was in his arms. I battled with the feelings that came rushing with his touch and then relaxed. He was whole. Safe. No bullet holes in sight.

When he released me I wasn’t ready to let go of his touch. I also wasn’t ready for the tender, intimate gaze that penetrated my soul when he looked at me. It was one we had shared in the stolen moments of our fleeting courtship. I inwardly winced at the pain it caused.

“Looking great, Ames,” he said softly after his eyes had roved my body.

The look wasn’t wild or animalistic like the ones that Brock directed at me; neither did it make me feel like flames licked my body. It was soft, reverent, though there was a tinge of sexual hunger in it.

I was glad I looked good today. Well, I tried to look good every day, but I was happy with my outfit of choice. My white lace dress had long sleeves but its hemline finished well above my knees. My hair was braided so it fell long over my shoulder, and my Manolos almost had me meeting Ian’s chin. I was clad in enough designer armor I might just survive this encounter.

I turned my thoughts outward, or more particularly to rove over Ian’s body. A dull hunger thrummed through me as my gaze ran down his muscled expanse. I stopped at a scar on his eyebrow with a frown. A sick feeling quickly replaced the desire, a brutal reminder of his chosen profession. The thing that could get him dead in an instant. The thing that had already killed us. “Just another one to add to the collection,” I remarked dryly.

Something passed in his expression before he schooled it and I realized we were showing way too much of our confusing non-relationship in front of clueless Gwen. I tried to turn my face into an emotionless gaze and removed myself from Ian’s vicinity.

Interestingly enough, the worrying situation with Gwen had done nothing to derail my runaway freight train of emotions about Ian. When I tried to bring Jimmy up again Gwen refused to discuss it. She instead changed the subject to something arguably more dangerous..

“How about we talk about where you’ve been all day, Abrams?” she shouted from the kitchen where she’d gone to dump the dinner dishes and my stomach dropped.

Don’t mention Brock! I mentally shouted at her. I was having enough trouble trying to sort out my feelings without making Ian aware of the man who had worked his way under my skin.

“Having makeup sex with Brock maybe?” Gwen teased, walking to the table with dessert in her hands. Our telepathic connection left a lot to be desired.

Ian’s face turned to granite. “Who’s Brock?” he growled.

The anger in his tone caught me off guard. Then pissed me right off. He was the one that called it off between us. He was the one who pushed me away. He had no freaking right to play the jealous, angry, macho man.

Gwen, bless her, continued to feed the fire without knowing. “Oh, just some guy that won’t take Amy’s shit but is completely under her skin,” she said with a smirk.

Great. Ian’s glare was in danger of turning me to stone. I did my best to ignore it as the conversation with Brock came into my mind. He wasn’t likely to be a problem anymore anyway. I ignored the stab to the heart that was. “He’s no one. No one special and I certainly won’t be talking to him again. Subject closed.” I was trying to convince myself more than anyone else.

I eyed the decadent looking cake Gwen had placed in front of me. I cut the hugest piece I could then dumped it on my plate. Maybe if I become two hundred pounds heavier I wouldn’t have to worry about man problems. Only the crane that they would need to get me out of the house would be an issue.

Gwen’s disbelieving gaze at my food choice had me feeling defensive. “It’s my cheat day,” I shot at her.

Luckily the roar of a Harley took the heat from me and the fact I was consuming two days’ worth of calories. Gwen’s face got all dreamy and happy and I couldn’t help but feel pleased at this. My love life might be a steaming pile of shit but my best friend was happy. That was good enough for me. The stormy look on Ian’s face had me feeling instantly defensive of Gwen’s well-deserved happiness.

I pointed at him with my fork. “Look here. Mr. Soldier, don’t you dare try any of your macho man bullshit and be a dick to Cade. He can handle it, I have no doubt about that, but we don’t need the drama. He cares about your sister and makes her happy. That’s all you need to know,” I told him snippily.