Page 66 of Pink Poison

If Atticus Lennon can even be considered human.

“You awake, pretty doll?” Stone asks, his voice gravellywith sleep.

I’ve always been a sucker for a man’s early morning voice.

Rolling away from Kash, I turn and face Stone. He sits, sprawled on the small sofa, taking up over half of the furniture. My breath catches as I take him in, shirtless with his jeans undone, hanging low on his hips giving me aperfectview of his v-line.

“I am now,” I groan.

“My eyes are up here, doll.” He laughs, pulling my attention back to his darkened gaze.

“Uh-huh,” I drawl.

He winks, his tongue ring pinched between his teeth. “How did you sleep?” I lick my lips and offer him a teasing smirk that hopefully conveys how much Ireallydon’t want to talk about it. Honestly, talking is the last thing I want to do when he's looking at me like he wants to devour me for breakfast.I'd let him, too.His lips curve, reading me like an open book. “Something on your mind, doll?”

My eyes drag down his body again, appreciating that the grogginess of sleep has lifted. I feel my lips part, and I suck in a breath as I hone in on the numerous scars that decorate his skin. Many are raised and thick, while few are small enough to go nearly undetected against his tanned flesh. It's an odd thought to have, even for myself, but I think they're beautiful. I itch to touch them, trace them,knowthem as intimately as I know myself.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Sorry.” My cheeks heat as my stare collides with his, knowing that I was just caught practically drooling over his scars. “That was rude of me.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, doll.” He smirks playfully, deepening the sting over my face. “I like having your eyes on me—especially when your cheeks turn that shade of pink while you're lookin'.”

Jesus, help me.

“Don’t let it get to your head, Butcher,” I sass.

I don'tdothe flustered or shy thing. I haven't in years, and some stupidly sexy biker with a growly morning voice and a tongue that drove me wild won't change that.

“Is that your way of tellin’ me you think I'msexy?” he teases, like he just heard my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I roll back over to face Kash, who shifts closer to my body, bringing our faces a breath apart.

“You think Stone is sexy?”

“What?” I squeak out, unprepared for him to even be awake.

“It’s okay,” he gruffs. “Stone is kind of hot, in that brooding, tragic way.”

I trace my finger over his cheek. His lashes flutter at my touch until his sleepy blues open for me. “Kind of hot, huh?” I snort.

His hand finds my hip. “Yeah, kind of. I’m not into dudes, but if I was, I’d probably go for him,” he jokes.

“Good to know, cutie.” I laugh softly.

His fingers gently tap against me, almost like he’sresistingthe urge to touch me further. An ugly feeling swirls in my chest at the idea of him holding back. That's not who he is, at least it's not the version of him I've experienced,and I don't like it.

Before I can comprehend what I’m doing, I hook my leg over his waist and roll my body on top of his, settling him to his back. “Woah,” he whooshes, holding me steady over him.

“Stevie,” Stone warns.

The dark thoughts seep through into existence, unfiltered as they slip off my tongue. “What's the matter? Don’t wanna touch me anymore?”

“Sweetheart,” Kash grunts. His eyes soften,too soft, too much like last night. “I’m tryin’ to be respectful.”

Respectful?

I laugh. It's not funny, nothing about these feelings are, but I laugh anyway. The sound reeks of dismissal, dripping with condescension. “Wereyourespectfulwhen you listened to me in the bathroom with Stone?” I snap bitterly. He remains silent, his eyes unwavering in their softness. It pisses me off—his lack of reaction. I don'twanttheir softness or their pity. Narrowing my stare, I cock my head to the side. “No. How about when you followed me into the locker room and watched me undress?Noagain. What about when you had me go out on stage in only yourcut.”

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