“She’s like a little s—” I snap my jaw shut. There’s no way I can get that lie out. Little sister. There’s not one cell in my body that feels anything close to sisterly where Molly Jenkins is concerned. There hasn’t been since she came home last summer transformed from an awkward girl to the stunning woman that had her claws in my scalp earlier. “I know she’s off-limits, Prez.”
I can’t read his face entirely, but if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes.
He leaves me standing in the hallway without another word.Chapter 3Molly
The throbbing headache is anticipated when I open my eyes to the sunlight streaming in. What’s shocking is the sight of Briar standing in my open doorway. Hands tucked in his jeans pockets and shoulder leaning against the jamb, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I don’t know whether I should be embarrassed by what I did last night, or excited that he’s here. I cried myself to sleep after I let Zoe drag me from the back hallway, afraid he’d head to Florida without telling me goodbye. Something is off about this trip, but none of the guys are talking. I don’t know everything about the inner workings of the club, but there are whispers of the tension between Ravens Ruin and the cartels in Florida, and knowing that my brothers and Briar are heading down there leaves my skin itchy and hypersensitive.
“You’re brave being here.” I sit up on the bed.
His eyes dart to my mouth and down the column of my neck before briefly pausing on my chest. My favorite sleep tank is thin, threadbare from being worn and washed so frequently. I know he can see the outline of my dark nipples. Any other day I’d lift my blanket to my chin. My shyness would be the winning emotion, but today I just can’t seem to be bothered with it. Not after that decadent brush of his tongue against mine. Whether he wants to admit it or not, things changed between us last night.
“Can you,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “cover yourself?”
“Why are you here, Briar? Lynch will lose his shit if he finds you hovering in my doorway while I’m so indecent.” I lean back against my headboard, chest jutting out another desperate inch or so. My nipples furl tighter, straining against the thin cotton.
“If the noises coming from his room are any indication, he’ll be busy for a little while.”
“Come here,” I plead, patting the bed beside me.
“Not gonna happen, Mols.” His head is shaking violently, but it’s his refusal to look at me that cuts like a knife.
In a bid to get him to look back at me, I grasp the edge of my comforter and tuck it under my chin.
“I’m sorry I kissed you last night,” I whisper.
He huffs a humorless laugh. “No, you’re not.”
“I went looking for someone like you,” I confess, finally drawing his eyes back to me. “That night. My last night at school.”
His hands clench, turning white at his knuckles from the effort.
“You thought you’d find someone like me in a shitty, rundown frat-house filled with popped-collar douchebags? We didn’t send you to Andover Academy for you to go slumming with low-life pieces of shit.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and I can’t tell if he’s angry at me, or if he’s pissed at the guys who almost took advantage of me.
“He rode a bike,” I say with a shrug.
We haven’t talked about that night, but I know Lynch told him. Briar and TJ took off a while back, and when Briar got home, the look in his eyes had changed. I know what happened. Three guys don’t get chopped up in a frat-house while a party rages downstairs without it making the evening news. The fourth guy claims he was knocked unconscious, and he later confessed to the arson of the first frat-house. That was a way to cover Zoe’s ass. She lit that place up like the 4th of July when she found me on that bed and realized what they were about to do to me.
“If you want a man on a bike—” His jaw clenches shut.
“Finish your fucking sentence,” I demand.
“I can’t.” He looks resigned, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but I won’t let him off the hook so easily.
“You won’t,” I correct.
“I fucking can’t!”
My eyes dart to my open bedroom door, afraid that Lynch will hear him. He paces at the end of my bed, his hands tugging at his gorgeous dark hair.
“You can stand up to him,” I urge.
“He’ll kill me.”
“Am I not worth dying for?” It’s a low fucking blow, but he’s ripping my heart out right now.
He freezes in the middle of my room and doesn’t pull his eyes from mine. The stare is soul deep.