Page 21 of Connectio
His eyes narrow. “Firstly, I’m not playing chasey with you any longer—”
“Chasey? I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Secondly, I’m sorry for calling you Labia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Oh.” This second one catches me by surprise. “I… I—”
“And, thirdly, you may want to help me stop Carly from doing something she’ll regret.”
I stare at his lips, the bridge of his nose, and finally his eyes, grey-blue like an overcast sky. Soft and kind, they contradict the rest of his burly exterior. They’re not as dark as I first thought; they’re rather lovely, actually.
“Elizabeth?”
I blink. “What?”
“Carly… she’s dancing with a dick, a dick who’s not Derek.”
“Damn her.” Closing my eyes momentarily, I sigh then quickly duck under his arm to free myself from his prison. “Where?”
He nods toward the dance floor.
“Right.” I gesture to his pocket, where I assume he keeps his phone. “Ring Derek and tell him.”
“You shittin’ me?” He steps back, runs his hands through his hair, and laughs.
My eyes magnetise to his biceps once again, shirt-cuffs straining against the expansion of his muscles. He must lift very heavy weights or pull very large cars, or—
He flexes them again.
“Am I what?” I shake my head, diverting my gaze back to his eyes, which really aren’t less distracting. “No! I’m… I’m not shittin’ you. Call him. Tell him exactly what she’s doing. He needs to know.”
“He’s gonna lose his shit.”
“Good. He should. That’s what she needs right now.”
His eyebrows hitch, but he takes out his phone and dials Derek. “Hey, mate. How’s things in Sydney?”
I look out at the dance floor, trying to pinpoint Carly, but my eyes keep making their way back to Will, following his every step as he paces the hallway beside me, phone to his ear. His arse looks great in jeans—hard, solid… strong. In fact, every part of him looks hard, solid, and strong. Intimidatingly so.
For the first time since meeting him, I notice tattoo ink creeping out from the collar of his shirt, and I’m curious to know what it looks like in its entirety. I’m not normally partial to men with tattoos, but for some reason, his intrigues me.
“I’m at Opals,” Will says then chuckles at Derek’s response. “Nah, not playin’ a gig without you.”
Gig? Oh, Will must also be in the same band as Bryce and Derek.Makes sense considering he seems to know everyone in the building.Carly mentioned Bryce’s band often plays here and that he’s a “sexy version of Slash” and that Derek can “sing her panties off.”
I wonder what Will’s role is. Drummer, guitarist… backup singer?
Unable to help myself, I snort-laugh. He definitely doesn’t look like a backup singer. A drummer, yes—he has the arms for it—but a backup singer, no.
Will furrows his brow at me then says to Derek, “I’m with your girl and her hot as fuck friend.” He looks me up and down again, much like he did at the bar, then adds, “Fuck yeah. I’m gonna have more than a crack at her.”
Jerk! The only crack he’ll be having is in his balls when my foot kicks them into his abdomen.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I snarl and walk away, hellbent on finding Carly and dragging her home. Coming out tonight when she’s fragile and hurting wasn’t a great idea.
Pushing my way past person after person, I finally spot her ash-blonde hair twirling around like a tornado.
“What are you doing?” I yell, pulling her away from a sleazeball who has his grimy hands all over her.
