Page 125 of Stone: The Precursor

“Yeah, I better get out of here, he looks like he wants to snap my bones in half.” He hugs me one last time. I hear Stone’s heavy boots getting closer. Julian moves quickly and heads out the door, leaving me with Stone.

“What are you doing?” I cross my arms, not in the mood for him right now. I really want to ask him where he was for the last few days, but it’s not my business. I have no right to ask him a damn thing. I head to my back room, still keyed up and pissed from my father’s visit and what Stone probably heard. I pace and put my hands on my hips while I blow out a breath before I calm myself down. Tears threaten, but the last person I want to see them is Stone. I need to focus on Jacinda’s art show. I have so much riding on it, she does as well. I have a million things to do, and I don’t have the energy to sit down and cry about my stupid father.

I feel the moment Stone comes into the storage room to join me.

“You okay?”

Nope. Not okay, I mentally answer him. Stone waits me out, patient bastard. He was like that when he was making me come, not rushing or looking aggravated when he was fucking me. Not the way Reed looked sometimes when I didn’t come fast enough for him. Stone didn’t seem to mind that it took me a while. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I dig my thumbs into the corner of my eyes.

“Because of the shit your asshole father said.”

“You’re very nosy,” I repeat. It’s the exact words he said to me in his cabin.

He saunters closer, and his smell encapsulates me. He crouches near Jacinda’s installation, turning one of the moving parts. It spins and resettles. Her work is very interactive. Stone’s ringed, tattooed finger trails along the shiny metal and swallows. He did the same thing with my nipple. The flashback is damned inconvenient.

“How many pieces will she install?”

The gruff question forces me out of the memory of him flicking my clit while I lay on his kitchen table. Thankfully, it’s not about my father, and I release the last of the tension in my shoulder.

“Ten.”

He nods and stands, leaning on the wall. “That’s a good number.”

I lift a brow, chuckling. “Do I hear approval there?”

His lips tilt up. “You shouldn’t let him dictate what you do with your life.”

The good feelings from his smile deflate. I don’t answer, but open my notebook. “Yeah. Why is that?”

“Because what people think shouldn’t stop you.”

“Yeah? Is that why you won’t touch me around my brother? Because you don’t care what people think?”

“That’s different,” he growls, angry again.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. “How is it different?”

He walks toward me, evading my question. He crowds me against the wall, and I can’t stop the fluttering in my pussy. The heat from his body surrounds me, and I want to lean forward, rest my achy breasts on his hard chest, but I don’t. He walked away from me, not the other way around. He was the one who erected the barrier, halting anything more between us. I spinaround and cross my arms over my chest, staring at him. I may not be touching him, but his scent doesn’t care. He smells delicious, and my traitorous mind remembers smelling on my body, breathing it in while he was on top of me.

“It’s different because—” He pauses, and I see something in his expression. A conflict of mind that I’m not privy to. More secrets. Always secrets.

“Just don’t let him get inside your head. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“How do you know what he deserves?”

“Your brother.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he’s a self asshole who has treated you like shit all your life.”

“It’s not just me. It’s all of us.”

“Hmm.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re lying.”