Taming the Storm (The Storm 3)

After the time I’ve spent with Shannon, I’m actually starting to really like her. She’s funny when she’s not hitting on guys in front of me—well, mainly Tom. Thankfully, she didn’t mention him or what had happened earlier. I’m guessing he straightened things out with her.

At our after-show drinks, Ashlee was all over Cale. But I knew he wasn’t interested.

I know Cale’s type, and she isn’t it. Cale always goes for brunettes or redheads. I’ve never seen him with a blonde.

When Ashlee figured out that he wasn’t interested, she turned her attention to Van, who was more than happy to entertain her.

I’m pretty sure he entertained her in the restroom for a short while.

Shannon and Sonny spent a long time talking to each other. I got the distinct impression that she was interested in him. And I know Sonny. A hot woman shows interest in him, and he’s on her like white on rice. Shannon is considerably older than Sonny, him only being twenty-four, but I know that wouldn’t bother him. From the way I’d seen Shannon acting with Tom—cue upchuck moment—and with knowing how Sonny is, I was surprised that he and Shannon didn’t hook up. As far as I know, they didn’t because Sonny left with me, Cale, and Van—after Van was done with Ashlee—and we all went back to the bus together.

When we arrived, the bus was set in darkness. Tom was already in his bunk, sleeping, with his curtain drawn. He was probably tired from doing whatever with the brunette.

I scrubbed the makeup from my face and pulled on a pajama tank and shorts before getting into bed. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I reach over and get my cell from the bedside cabinet. I check the time—ten o’clock.

Hungry, thirsty, and in dire need of the bathroom, I climb out of bed and steady myself from the motion of the moving bus.

Cracking open my door, I hear someone moving about in the kitchen, so I slip straight into the bathroom.

It’s all steamy in here. Someone’s been awake for a while and already had a shower. Knowing my boys, they wouldn’t be up early, so it had to be Tom.

My stomach does a stupid little flip at the idea of him showering in here.

Wiping the image of Tom wet in the shower, from my mind, I pee, brush my teeth, and tie my hair up into a messy knot.

Exiting the bathroom, I see that the curtain to Tom’s bunk is open.

My stomach fizzes from just knowing he’s out here—which is crazy.

What am I? Twelve?

Pushing my attraction for Tom out of my mind, I brace myself to see him.

Ignoring my attraction for him lasts about three seconds until I see him sitting at the table, and my hormones go into overdrive from the sight of him. With still damp hair, he’s wearing an ancient-looking Clash Rock the Casbah T-shirt and ripped blue jeans. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him and an empty cereal bowl, a box of Froot Loops, and a carton of milk off to the side. He has a newspaper in his hands.

But one thing is noticeably gone—his beard. He’s clean-shaven.

Did he do that because of me? Because of what I said about hating his beard?

Don’t be so conceited, Lyla.

Taking a deep breath, I push my shoulders back and walk toward him.

His eyes lift from the paper to me. His gaze almost burns a hole in my panties.

“Mornin’, Firecracker,” he drawls. His voice sounds all deep and throaty.

Smoking hot.

I ignore the Firecracker nickname. I figure there’s no point in arguing it because he’d get a rise out of it.

I smile and force a neutral tone into my voice as I say, “Good morning.”

Deciding to join Tom in eating kid cereal, I head straight to the cupboard. I reach up onto my tiptoes and get a bowl, and then I grab a spoon from the drawer. I take a seat across from him, pour myself some Froot Loops, and drown them in milk.

When I glance across at Tom, I see his eyes are on my chest, and his greens are on fire. Jade is almost burning blue.

It’s then I realize I’m not wearing a bra.

Shit.

And this is the exact moment that my nipples decide to stand to attention under Tom’s heated gaze.

Fuckity fucking shit.

Okay, so I’ve got one of two choices. One, I can get embarrassed, run to my room and put on a bra, but I know if I do that, it will only give him future ammo to tease me. Or two, I can act cool.

Cool it is.

Raising my arms above my head, I pretend to stretch, which of course pushes my girls out and in his direction.

I have to stifle a giggle at the look on his face. His eyes are as wide as saucers.

Then, he drags his tongue across his lower lip.

Fire licks between my thighs.

Gulping, I lower my arms. I put my sweetest-sounding voice on as I say, “Um, Tom?”

His eyes slowly lift to mine. The look is still there, and I have to stop from squirming under his lusty stare.

“Unless the human body changed overnight, eyes are up here.” I point two fingers at my eyes.

His face cracks into a grin, and a throaty laugh sounds from him. He lowers the paper to the table. “Sorry. You just have a great fucking rack. It’s hard not to stare.” He grazes his lower lip with his teeth.

A blaze of heat strokes up the back of my neck, threatening to circle and set my face ablaze.

“Well, try to do your best. Respect goes both ways.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Maybe you could wear a bra. That might help. Actually, no, it wouldn’t.”

“God, you’re such a pig!” I exclaim. “Seriously, would you like it if I just sat and stared at the huge bulge in your pants all day?”