Telling her to hang on a sec, he got out, and she watched him walk around the front of the car. It was only as he pulled her driver’s door open that she noticed the black SUV creep by out on the street. Strange, because it looked vaguely familiar—it looked like Candace’s brother’s Navigator, with the white sticker on the back window. Jameson had a Baylor sticker in the same place. She wouldn’t think anything of it, except that Jameson was as protective of Candace as her parents were, and they probably all had it out for Brian right now if what Ghost said was true.
For a second, she debated whether to call Ghost’s attention to the vehicle. But for all she knew, that wasn’t even James, and she was probably just being paranoid as usual. So she kept quiet.
Anyway, what was Ghost up to? He leaned comfortably against the side of her car and chatted another minute, but other than that, made no move whatsoever. Didn’t touch her. Didn’t kiss her. Didn’t…throw himself into her hard and put his hand between her legs.
God, what was wrong with her?
She was horny, that’s what, and it was jacking with her judgment big time.
“Well, have a good night, Macy,” he finally said as the conversation began to languish back into awkward-silence territory.
She gave him a smile. His gaze strayed to her mouth. This was it. He was going to kiss her. “You too,” she said, resisting the urge to sweep her tongue across her lips.
“We should do this again.”
Her heart flipped over. “Oh?”
“Sure. Any objections?”
“No.” The one syllable slipped out with no hesitation whatsoever.
“Give me your number.” He tapped it into his phone as she recited it. “’Kay. I’ll text you mine. And I promise to answer. I don’t mind you stalking me, if you’re so inclined.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” That heart-stopping grin appeared one more time, to top off a crazy, heart-stopping night and rattle her brain a final time. He straightened. Put his hand on her door, let that gaze drift down again. Kiss me.
“All right,” he said. Paused. “Sleep tight.”
And he shut her door.
What?
He walked away. She couldn’t not watch him go, and as she did everything but sleep tight later in her empty bed, it was that hard body she imagined beside her, over her, inside her.
Chapter Three
Damn. He couldn’t believe that had just happened. Even as Ghost tried in vain to get to sleep hours later, she lingered in his mind. And he’d only spent a couple of hours with her, if that. He was tempted to text her, but she might begin to think he was the stalker. Nah, he would play this one cool.
If anyone knew what an idiot he could be over girls like her, it was him. That self-awareness had come to painful clarity a few years back, and he always tried to hold the pain close so he never forgot.
Macy’s smile, though…Macy’s f**king smile could make him forget pain even existed in the world. From the angry, vulnerable losing-her-grip girl in the sushi bar to the carefree girl who’d called a complete stranger and chewed her ass out, she was alluring. Beautiful. And he wanted to know more, not only about that body but that mind, that soul. Something was behind those hazel eyes, something that shadowed them. Her beauty had caught his attention, yeah…but the rest of her would keep it. For far too long.
He hadn’t even considered making a move. She’d have shot him down at that point. No doubt in his mind. For another far more compelling thing, even if she hadn’t, he probably would have embarrassed himself.
Beneath the covers, he was hard from the memory of all the impossible ideas that had run through his head. Those gorgeously shaped lips sighing and gently panting from his touch. How soft and smooth her skin would be—he could tell by looking. How f**king good she smelled. Even the thought of her tentatively accepting his touch and then pushing him away set his blood on fire. He loved good girls. Loved to keep them wanting, questioning themselves. Giving them something to think about all night.
But something told him Macy might not quite be all that good. He had no fears whatsoever that she held the virginal status of her best friend. Here and there he’d seen flashes of hunger in her eyes that told him she knew what it was all about. Maybe he’d get lucky and that hunger would turn to starvation. Maybe he’d be the one she came to.
Yeah, fat chance, buddy.
Fuck. There was no fighting it, and hell, why should he? He slid his hand down his belly, toward his aching dick. Even if it was only her beauty in his head and not his c**k buried deep in her body, it was release, and he needed it. He had the feeling he would need it a lot in the days to come.
He woke in a fog to a ringing phone, emitting curses that would’ve had his nana smacking him in the mouth. Sunlight streamed through his windows at an angle he rarely saw.
“Dude, what the f**k?” he answered without even checking the display.
“Get your ass down here,” Brian said. He sounded out of breath. Ghost immediately shot up, the sheet still twisted around his torso and haphazardly through his legs.
“Where?”
“The studio. Someone f**king trashed it.”
“What?”
“Just get here, man. I need you.” The connection went dead.
Christ on a cracker. Who the hell would trash Dermamania, and why? And when? He and Macy had been there till almost one in the morning.
Obviously later than that, dumbass. His head still hadn’t cleared as he dug around for the jeans he’d discarded the night before, having no time to scrounge through the laundry for a new pair. He wasn’t exactly awesome at domestic organization.
When he screeched into the parking lot of his workplace minutes later, Candace and Brian were having it out right in front of everyone judging by their wild, agitated gestures. Brian didn’t need this shit right now on top of everything.
Behind them, the sight of the tattoo parlor was like a punch to the gut. Dermamania, which he’d left in perfect condition last night around one a.m., now had shattered front windows and no doubt massive damage on the inside.
As Ghost climbed out of his car, feeling sick, Brian and his brother Evan left in Evan’s truck. Candace wandered off with Starla, her face drawn and devastated. Ghost plucked his cell from his pocket and fired off a quick text to his best friend. You all right?
No. Jameson Andrews f**king filing charges on me now. Fucker did this, I know it. I need you to stay there until I get back.
No prob dude.
Ghost turned Brian’s accusation over in his head. It was an amazing coincidence if the parlor got trashed from an unknown the same night Brian decked Andrews in the nose, but Ghost simply didn’t think Jameson Andrews had the brass cajones to do something like this to a bunch of big, tattooed motherfuckers, especially one who had just whooped his ass. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the little douchebag thought his name would protect him. If it turned out he’d done this, he’d better think again.
The officer on the scene wouldn’t let him inside, but he could see the damage clearly from his vantage point. It looked like the bastard had taken a baseball bat to the place, seemingly as fast as possible. Destroyed the TVs, as much of the equipment as he could, and tore Brian’s art off the walls. He’d even spray painted some of the walls. Ghost laced his fingers behind his head and tried to maintain control before he hit something.