Page 181 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
It wasn’t even normal drunk behavior.
But it was a little pathetic and more endearing than I'd like to admit, almost enough to make me get off my ass and “balter” with her.
I didn’t.
I stared, waiting for her to sober up.
She spun in circles. Water dripping down her white shirt. Without a bra, all I saw were hard nipples. I could have sucked one of those nipples into my mouth, right over the G in Tiger. But she was drunk, and I was more of a tear-you-to-shreds type of asshole than a take-advantage-of-you one.
She laughed, the only source of heat in this damn rain. Even under this starless night, she reminded me of the sun. So fucking warm all the time. Inside and outside. And I legit had no clue where this girl came from.
How she bulldozed her way into my life time and time again. How did it make sense for her to show up everywhere? Fill up every crevice of the universe?
“Look!” She jerked her hand above her. “It’s a beautiful night. No stars. Aren’t you at least gonna look at it?”
“No.”
I watched her instead, taking in her arms swinging back as she whirled in circles. Reaching into the center console, I stuck a confiscated joint in the corner of my mouth, wishing I could light it and replace one addicting substance with another.
Fuck this rain.
My eyes dropped to her nipples.
On the other hand, I didn’t hate the rain.
I toyed with the joint and observed Emery. As far as mental breakdowns went, this one was cute. Her smile never left, which was a miracle, considering she possessed absolutely no grace when it came to dancing.
Her limbs were too long for it. They got in her way as she twirled and swayed, two-mile-high legs peeking out beneath her shirt. Fucking perfect as she was, she didn't even look like a fantasy, because no mind on this earth could conjure her up.
Emery caught me staring. “Thinking about me?”
“In case you haven’t realized, I’m always thinking about you, and I like it as much as I’d like waking up to Rosco licking my face, but here we are.”
“Do you think it’s lust?” Keen eyes studied me, waiting for an answer to the question we always skirted.
“Tell you what… Ask me when you’re sober, and I’ll answer.”
Zero chance she’d remember any of this tomorrow.
Emery didn’t reply. She continued to dance, gracing me with a smile that suggested she knew something I didn’t. Cocky, yet somehow sweet. A drug too addictive to be on the market.
I sat in my drenched, six-hundred-and-forty-eight-thousand-dollar car, picking apart the ruined joint. Her lips muttered so many of her words, I couldn’t keep up, and even if I could, I was sure most of them didn’t exist in any dictionary alive except the walking dictionary baltering in the pouring rain.
“Fuck!” Emery dove suddenly for the passenger seat, toppling over the door until her legs stuck up in the air and her head landed somewhere on the floor of the car.
I set the joint down. “If this is part of baltering, I’m out.”
“Shut up. I’m saving it.”
“Saving what?”
“Pop your trunk and help me up.”
“Tell me what you’re saving.”
“Please, Nash… Just do it?”
“You’re a shit show,” I muttered, but I popped my trunk, opened my door, trampled through the mud, wrapped an arm around her middle, and hauled her against my body until nothing but soaking wet clothes separated us.
