Page 45 of Like You Want It
CHAPTER NINE
FIN
She drives me insane.
And if my hardening dick is anything to go by, it isn’t in a bad way.
I think that’s the most insane part about it.
I force myself to sit here, immobile, as Carly twists and dances on the dance floor, that gorgeous fucking smile on her face.
The more I’ve interacted with her, the more I’m starting to understand that her smile is just… real. It isn’t some fake thing she throws out like a net to catch what she wants. It’s real, honest to goodness…goodness. And it’s something new for me to see on a woman.
I shake my head and take a gulp of my water, catching sight of my tattoo as I place my cup down on the table.
I got The Budweiser on my arm after completing BUD/S training. Eagle, pistol, anchor, trident. And then in script it says, “The Only Easy Way Was Yesterday.” Me, Martin, JoJo and Kenworth got the same outline at the same parlor, though I was the only one to cover my forearm and add the script.
We were all a little bit shitfaced on the handful of days we got off before our official assignments began. But it turned out well. Luckily, we went to a guy who knew what he was doing, and the design is solid. And it has a strong meaning.
That was something my mom told me once. She said that men who get tattoos often get them for attention, and that if I got one, I should make sure that it means something. I’m glad I didn’t get something stupid, like a music symbol or some symbol that’s supposed to meanhonorbut really meanscheeseburger.
I trace my fingers just briefly over the place that Carly touched, the length of the eagle’s wings.
The feeling of her tiny little finger on my marks? It was like being stabbed with an electrical rod. I had to pull my arm back to keep from shorting out.
She seems to really like tattoos. Both on me and on herself. She has the watercolor half sleeve on her right arm and a small black one near her left ankle, but there are also a few that aren’t as readily visible. Something blue on her hip bone. Words at the base of her neck, under all that hair.
I shift in my seat.
A part of me wants to give in to this roiling feeling that I have when she’s around, find out the stories behind those tattoos as I kiss and lick every spot that she has one.
But I know it isn’t a good idea.
Not only is she friends with my sister, a pool of people I shouldn’t dip a fucking toe into, but she’s also just… different. I’m not sure I’d know what to do.
Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. I’d know how to handle her in bed. She’s a tiny little cat that I could toss around and make purr. If she was just a woman at this bar tonight? A random nobody? I’d be all over that in seconds.
Jumping into bed with someone you’re going to see again, though… I haven’t wanted to wade into that water in years.
Ever since the ultimate betrayal left me floundering.
I take another sip of my water, my throat feeling dry and scratchy, and focus my eyes back on the girls, who are shaking their butts like a group of best friends.
It makes me smile, seeing Susie with people like Dina and Carly. Happy people who seem to really care about her. As much as I hate to admit it – because it would be much easier on me if Carly would just disappear – maybe someone like Carly is exactly what my sister needs.
After a few pop songs, the music changes back to country and everyone lines up to dance. Carly, Susie and Dina among them.
And it’s only ten seconds in that I realize something that has me fighting to hide my laughter.
Dina was right.
Carly is an absolutely horrible dancer.
She didn’t look so bad when she was just kind of shaking from left to right, using that yoga flexibility to bend and twist and rub up on her friends. It was actually pretty damn sexy if the wood I’m currently sporting is any kind of indicator.
But line dancing is one of those things where you definitely have to know what you’re doing, or you bump into everyone around you and possibly break some toes.
Carly doesn’t even notice as she swings around and does her own interpretation of whatever everyone else is doing.
