This close, I can see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. The five o’clock shadow on his square jaw. I can breathe in the scent of him—soap and dark woods.
Lexie and Amanda shift so Miles is between them, snugly because of his broad shoulders. Chance ends up on my other side. They set their beers on the table.
“A man.”
Lexie’s words bring fierce warmth once again to my face. Thank God for the dim lighting. I’m sure I’m red as a tomato.
The men swivel their gazes to me and I want the floor to swallow me up. I’m not as brazen as my new boss.
“A man?” Chance’s voice is deep and rough.
As he says it, I feel Austin’s body go taut against mine.
Ladies’ night is one thing. Being offered drinks by handsome men is another. So is telling two new friends that I’m ready to have sex. To use a guy to get over my hang-ups. But telling three handsome brothers who are signing my paycheck?
I hop to my feet as best I can wedged between two big men, grab my clutch, and bolt.
It’s not as easy to cut through the crowd as Austin made it seem. I finally get to the front door and push it open, taking big gulps of cooler air. I cut around the side of the building, lean against the hard brick.
“Carly!”
I stiffen at the shout of my name.
A few seconds later, Austin appears around the corner.
It’s dark and he’s cast in a blue glow from the neon bar sign.
“Are you okay?”
I look at the front of his T-shirt and nod. “I overreacted. I should have laughed it off because Lexie was having some fun and helping me and I’m not used to—”
“What man is she talking about? Who? Are you afraid of him?” He looks around, but we’re alone. “Do I need to go beat someone up?”
I smile and shake my head. God, he’s protective. “That’s really sweet of you.”
He sets a hand on the wall above my head and leans in. “Me? Sweet?”
He’s right. He’s not all that sweet. But do I want sweet? After what I went through, flowers and candlelight, soft music, and a plush bed should be what I want. But meeting Austin—even barely—has changed my thinking.
He’s rugged and rough and he probably touches a woman the same way. Protective, but at the same time, possessive.
“What’s going on?”
I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath.
This is it, an opportunity to reclaim a piece of myself. I can tell him the truth, that I want to have sex with him. Or I can slink away like the broken, fragile snowflake everyone treats with kid gloves.
“Carly…”
I don’t tell him because I won’t be able to get the words out. I want to sleep with you. Please have sex with me.
As if. I don’t scurry off. Instead—
I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss him.
For a moment, he doesn’t do anything.
What am I thinking? This is a mistake. Of course he doesn’t want me. Broken Carly. Shy, defective, crazy Carly. Until—