Page 45 of The Golden Boys

Chapter 15

BLUE

West’s heinously dark stare burns right through me.

I can’t escape it.

The tension in his jaw, the sharp flare of his nostrils, both only add to what I already know. He’s still just as wicked as the first time our paths crossed.

And even knowing this, I don’t quite look at him the same. Not since the kiss.

Feeling the moist heat of his mouth covering mine, the taste of it … I haven’t been able to shake the memory. Believe me, I’ve tried putting it out of my head, because I know exactlywho I’m dealing with.

But that’s been easier said than done

He’s not the boy next door, or the kind you trust with your heart. West Golden is a devil in designer jeans, with all the charm of a bona fide psycho. Still, even with all the hatred I hold for him, I swear I feel him all over me.

Like a ghost.

“Should I go?” Ricky isn’t one to be easily intimidated, so I know he only asks because he thinks it’s what I want.

“It’s fine,” I answer casually, but heat creeps up my spine as my eyes lock with West’s. So much that I quickly turn away.

“You sure about that?” Ricky adds with amusement in his tone, “because he’s on his way over here.”

Balls.

I snap my head that way again and a quiet, inward gasp hisses in my throat. All because that confident stride of West’s, the rhythmic dip and roll of his broad shoulders, has brought him right to me.

“Sooo … Enjoying yourself, Southside?”

There’s a cocky smirk on his lips as he eases both hands inside his pockets. First, he staresmedown, and then drags his gaze toward Ricky. The usual bright green of his irises seems to darken then, as the two stand eye-to-eye.

My fingers tighten into fists where they rest on Ricky’s shoulders, but we aren’t dancing anymore. He seems to sense that I’mhighlyuncomfortable at the moment, and misreads it completely. I fear he thinks my concern is that West will get the wrong impression about us, when I honestly couldn’t care less about that.

“I’ll uh … I’ll go check on Shane and Scar,” Ricky offers, but something in his tone is off.

Wayoff.

Unlike most guys in West’s presence, Ricky shows no sign of being shaken, which means he’s only backing off for my sake. Thanks to Pandora’s misguided posts, the world—those living outside of West’s circle, anyway—seem to think I’m his property.

Which I definitely am not.

There’s a loaded stare that passes between the two guys, but then Ricky turns to walk toward my front lawn, never looking back. My gaze flashes to West again, and I hope he can feel the hatred burning within it.

“Why are you here?” I practically growl.

“That your new boy-toy?” He tips his chin toward Ricky, asking the question through gritted teeth. That’s when I notice I don’t have his full attention.

Rickydoes.

“You don’t belong here,” I snap.

A furious glare falls on me. “What’s the matter, Southside? Not a great feeling when someone weasels their way into your world, is it?”

I hate him. I mean absolutely, positively hate him. From the bottom of my heart.

Both fists tighten at my sides and, for the second time tonight, I want to punch someone.

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