Page 2 of Craving Consequences

“Don’t,” I tell him firmly. “That man did two tours in Afghanistan. You’ll embarrass yourself and I won’t stop him again.”

He considers my words. I can see the drunk hamster struggling to grasp the reasoning. Finally, he dusts off his jeans and mutters, “Whatever,” and disappears into the crowd.

Waving at Tommy, I leave to find my friend and the bundle of chaos.

I find them in the narrow alcove leading to what used to be the coat check but was reverted to a storage area.

I know he should have taken her straight to the truck.

This is no place for someone like her. Not dressed like that.

Not so drunk that Van has to practically hold her up by the waist to keep her from crumpling to the ground.

But in my mind, in the far corner where I’m not tasting the bitter poison of envy, I know he’s holding her too close. I know the soft longing in his eyes isn’t appropriate. Still, I say nothing as I reach them.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, big, bloody hands moving lightly over the naked curve of her spine.

The dress is a length of sheet. A practically transparent strip of red that plunges down both ends in sharp V cuts.

The back is open nearly to the crack of her ass.

The front surges between her firm, full breasts.

And the length? She definitely can’t pick anything up without showing the world everything.

It’s a fuck me dress. Plain and simple. It’s the kind of dress that comes with a message. I’m not one to tell a woman what to wear — hell, I’m not mad about seeing Everly in it at all — but I have to wonder the motives behind it because Bron would not be okay with it.

“I can be here,” she slurs with an adorable defiance that has me biting my lip. “I pay rent, and I have ... I have shoes and you don’t tell me where to wear them.”

I can see Van sucking on his molars to keep his own grin in check.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Everly drunk. I don’t think I’ve even seen her take a sip of alcohol, yet she’s babbling about reading the Constitution, which Canada doesn’t even have.

“Did you come alone?” Van interrupts, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek. It’s so gentle, Everly stops talking and leans into the touch. Her lashes flutter shut. “Where’s Bron?”

The mention of my son’s name has her eyes popping open. The delicate arches of her brows slam together with indignation.

“Dead. He’s a bad ... a bad...” she trails off, visibly thinking hard for the words. When it fails her, she lifts a hand, nearly stabs a finger up Van’s nose when she thrusts it up and wiggles it.

“Worm?” Van supplies, one massive paw practically consuming her entire hand.

“No!” she snaps. “Worms are useful. We like worms. He’s a tapeworm with no dick.” Her glossy eyes pivot in my direction. “He should have been swallowed, Mr. Shaw. I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

Van sucks in his bottom lip, not bothering at all to conceal his amusement any longer.

“Did you have a fight, baby?”

Everly scoffs, a sound I have never heard her make. “I can’t. It won’t work.”

“What won’t?”

In a move that surprises both of us, Everly shoves away from Van with an exasperated huff. The momentum combined with the daggers strapped to her feet, makes her knees buckle. I see it as if in slow motion as she starts to fall.

I rush to catch her. My arms loop around her middle from behind and I yank her into my chest like I have some kind of right .

.. and hold her like I definitely shouldn’t.

The delicious scent of her warm skin and the faint hint of strawberries engulfs me with the collision of raw heat.

My heart leaps in my chest, a panicked and reckless gallop that has my blood humming between my ears.

She’s so warm and soft. I have to stop myself from nuzzling all those curls over her ear.

Stop from running my tongue up the pulse beneath the satin stretch of flesh at her neck.

I have to hold my breath as she injects herself into my senses, a drug ready to ruin my life.

At her front, Van and I lock gazes. Neither of us say a word but there is no need for any when he’s as fucked as I am. I know he is. It’s the restless hunger in his darkened eyes. The hard line of his mouth. It’s in the possessive hold he has overtop of mine.

Between us, a perfect fit in all the places she definitely shouldn’t fit so perfectly, Everly giggles. Her tiny fingers twist into the front of Van’s top. I think it’s to hold herself up, but she’s also leaning back into me.

“I had a dream that started like this,” she confesses with an impish smirk up into Van’s fiercely controlled face.

“What kind of dream?”

I could kick him for asking such a stupid and reckless and dangerous ... and fucking important question. Instead, all I can do is hold my breath so I don’t miss her answer.

But rather than put me out of my misery, Everly tips her head back on my shoulder. Her big eyes peer up into my face with a sweet hesitance that has my arms tightening around her.

“Promise not to tell Bron, Mr. Shaw? He always gets so angry with me. ”

Against my better judgement, I find my hand lifting and lightly skimming the soft line of her cheek. I brush her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb and watch them part for me.

“Promise.”

I don’t even second guess my promise. I don’t consider it.

I don’t even register that I just promised to keep something possibly vital from my son.

My only reason for existing is to hear all about her dreams. Is to have her in my arms, warm and trusting.

I can’t even look at Van anymore. How can I without broadcasting how badly I want to fuck my son’s girlfriend?

Everly sighs softly. “There’s so many, you know?

I used to write them in my journal, but Bron almost found it once and I got scared.

” She gives a weak chuckle. “I burned it.” She’s still peering up at me, but her fingers are gripping Van to her.

Keeping him in place for the second hand she lifts to touch his face.

Skim his cheek down to his lips. “I think he would have killed me if he ever saw it.”

“I would never allow that,” I state sharply.

Her grin is lopsided and endearing. “You’re both always so nice to me. You make me feel so safe.”

“Good,” Van murmurs against the fingertips he’s lightly kissing.

Everly tips her face to his, her head never lifting off my shoulder. Her touch drifts along the lines of Van’s face, tracing the curve down to the hollow of his cheek .

“This feels like a dream,” she murmurs, hazy gaze settling on his mouth with a longing I feel to my core. “Maybe it is. It has to be, right?”

Van gives a subtle shake of his head, so faint I nearly miss it. “Not a dream.”

All amusement fades from her face. It’s replaced with doubt and desire. A tangled web of yearning so deep it echoes in her voice.

“I’m scared you’re wrong and I’ll wake up alone.” She sucks in a breath. I feel the hitch of it in her chest. “I hate waking up without you. I hate seeing you in the morning and wanting you like I did in my dreams and getting so wet I can hardly stand straight but knowing I can’t have you.”

Fuck me.

What am I supposed to say to that? I can’t exactly confess just how often I’ve jerked off in the shower to thoughts of her. Even though I trust Van to never judge me, that’s not something you blurt.

Across from me, pressed into our sliver of damnation, Van is breathing hard. His jaw is a razor’s edge. His eyes cut down into Everly’s upturned face with a raw, desperate hunger I can’t blame him for.

“We need to take you home,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, “before you get yourself in trouble. ”

Tears well up in her eyes. They cling to her lashes as she stares up at him with gut wrenching heartbreak. “You think I’m disgusting.”

One hand unfurls from around her and closes onto her delicate jaw. He forces her face up to his. “Never. But if you don’t stop talking, we’re all going to have bigger problems.”

Still, her bottom lip quivers. “Are you taking me back to him?”

“Does Bron even know you’re here?” I ask.

Everly shakes her head. “Please don’t tell him.” Despite the hand still cradling her face, she tips it up to mine. “Please, Mr. Shaw? He’ll be so angry with me.”

I wish I could say I don’t know what she’s talking about.

I wish I could play ignorant to her fears.

I’ve seen how disgustingly Bron treats her.

How careless he is with her. I know she deserves better, but I am not the one to make that call.

They are both grown adults. Their relationship is their business. Still...

“Why are you here, Everly?” I ask even while I dread the answer.

Pain glistens in the velvet depths of her gaze as she searches my face through her drunken haze. A single tear cuts down her face and catches on the pad of Van’s thumb.

The sight of it punches me in the gut. It fans a surge of rage and alarm I have to battle back while I wait for her answer. Wait for her to give me an excuse to track Bron down and strangle him.

“He hurt me,” she whispers so quietly I nearly don’t hear her.