Page 7

Stumbling into the club I freeze when I see a familiar blonde haired little minx behind the bar, doing what looks to be the nightly deposit. I came because I was sure it was Addy closing tonight.

At first glance you would think Harlyn hasn’t spotted me yet, but it's been weeks since he started working at Shadows, and I’ve learned a thing or twenty.

It’s in the way he dances out of reach with little effort even when his gaze was nowhere near the approaching party. My point? He always knows the whereabouts of others. The message is abundantly clear, every time this happens, no touching.

He doesn't have a problem touching me though, does he?

The thought has my feet carrying me forward without my brains permission. And low and behold, he looks up without shock when I reach the bar. He knew I was here upon entering.

Maybe you knew he was here too.

I throw that thought in the trash.

“Hello Creek.”

He's still counting the money from tonight’s earnings instead of acknowledging me head on. It feels purposeful, like he's dismissing me.

“It's all a facade isn’t it?”

I ask curious in my inebriated state. Honestly it's probably a bad idea to be in his company sloshed.

Harlyn carefully sets the money down on the counter before folding his hands on top of each other. He looks the picture of elegance as always while he waits for me to elaborate.

“The way you portray yourself to be this docile little thing that doesn't care about anyone or anything.”

My words are a bit slurred and I'm choosing to believe that’s why he takes on an amused look and not because I’ve embarrassed myself somehow.

“Or maybe it's because I don’t care about anyone or anything.”

One of his fake slow-motion blinks accompanies the lie rolling off his tongue and I scoff. “You know, I rather like this version of you.”

He continues, ignoring my scowl.

“What version is that?”

“A mess. You’re so uptight and unhappy all the time, satisfied at glaring at me from across the room. Now, a gust of wind could blow you away because your stem has been ripped from the ground. A lovely mess.”

He finishes his assessment with a nod after his eyes trail me lazily. Still the picture of unfazed while my heart skips.

Did he say? With narrowed eyes, my head slants. “You think I'm lovely?”

He looks at me for a beat from beneath his lashes. “Don’t fish Flower, you have eyes as well as I. Certainly you know how your proximity may affect others.”

I'm hardly aware when my feet carry me once more. Closer to the snake I'm positive was sent here to ruin us.

Not only did he pop up out of bum fuck nowhere, but he also worked for a psychopath. Whether by choice or not doesn't matter. What if this was all part of the plan? What if Marcus sent Harlyn here to feel us out before his business proposal with Ressyn.

Yet, my feet still move, effectively silencing the alarms blaring in my head to kill him right now.

“And what about you? How does my proximity affect you, Harlyn?”

I'm closing in on him now. My hips settling against his and my hands lay on the bar on each side of him, blocking any escape.

Harlyn is statue still, as if I'm Medusa. He gapes at me with wide eyes accompanied by those delicious, parted lips like I'm his own personal ruin. His guard is down, and I relish in it.

When he isn’t quick to answer, I take the opportunity he's presented me with and seize his bottom lip between my teeth. He gasps when I suck it into my mouth and I feel his dick start to harden against mine, making me groan.

It's decided. I'll fuck him against the bar, and then kill him. It would be a shame to end the little liar before I get to trace his body with my tongue.

Speaking of my tongue, it dives into Harlyn’s mouth now and he moans so loud you’d think I was already fucking him.

I love it.

His tongue slides against mine warily, and since he's going to die soon, I'll make sure he kisses me like he fucking means it. My hands fall from the counter, one skating down his body before I hoist his leg up until it rests at the crook of my elbow. The other squeezes his ass and pulls him into me until he's grinding against my throbbing cock.

I don’t kiss people often because it could give off the impression that I want more. Harlyn is different of course because I know he's up to something which makes this forbidden. Prohibited motherfuckers apparently have my brain giving my cock the wheel.

A shiver runs through me when he kisses me with more conviction. His fingers tangle in my hair, and I growl. My mouth leaves his and trails his jaw line until my teeth find his throat. And fuck does he love that, if the filthy noises escaping his wet lips are any indication.

He’s tugging my hair and pushing against me with a desperation I’ve never seen before. Like he doesn't know what he's doing, but it feels too good for me to give a fuck at the moment. His body molds to mine like clay. Like it's been waiting to collide with mine his whole life and it lights me on fire.

When my mouth connects with his again, he whimpers on my tongue and my uncertainty dies on his. I drop his leg and my fingers find the button on his cargo pants instantly, but I pause when he stills with a moan. A recognizable jerk of his hips later and I watch transfixed as he comes in his pants. His normally kept hair is awry with his head thrown back and the most exotic look of pleasure overwhelms his features when I’ve barely touched him.

When his head straightens and I catch sight of that stupid blink again, my mind and body jolt with the reality of this situation.

I shouldn’t have done that.

I shouldn’t have come here.

He looks down at the mess he’s made on himself, hidden from my view. A splash of color reddens his cheeks when he meets my gaze again, biting his lip with a shy way about him.

He's embarrassed. I don’t know why, but I definitely trust that evaluation at the moment. It isn’t up to par with his standard robotic like tactics. For reasons I can't explain-probably because I'm drunk-I take pity on him. I also don’t want him to feel that way. I made him feel good and that’s okay, other circumstances aside.

Grabbing a washcloth nearby, I pass it to him, ignoring the erection still pressing painfully against my zipper. If it's possible, his cheeks flame further until the blush extends to the tips of his small ears.

He looks so innocent. I don’t think it's realistic for him to look more endearing than he does in this very moment, at a loss for words.

When he finishes with the washcloth and faces me, his blue eyes have altered a bit. There's less security to them now as he gazes at me cautiously. Like he's done something he shouldn’t have and he's waiting for me to penalize him for it.

“Perfectly normal reaction man. No reason to get worked up about it.”

I decide to reassure him.

Not sure if it worked because his face catches fire once more and I turn to head in the opposite direction, effectively leaving the conversation and interaction behind with him. I ignore the flash of hurt I see take president on his face and continue for the door.

It isn’t real anyway.

It isn’t until I'm home in the safety of my soft bed that I realize I never killed him.