Page 44 of Craving Consequences
Accepting defeat, I check the knot holding my swimsuit top. I’m reconsidering joining Lauren in the pool when I make the mistake of glancing up straight into the eyes of two feral, starving wolves.
CHAPTER NINE
EVERLY
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Van and Lachlan stand frozen in place, beers forgotten between hard fists. Their postures are deceptively calm, but their eyes ... God, their eyes.
They rake over me, slow and deliberate, taking inventory of every bare inch of skin I just exposed. There are no words spoken, yet their thoughts are weighted in their stares, saying everything.
It’s all so wrong.
I’m not this person, but I know these feelings are a recurring conversation in confessional every Sunday. It’s my greatest shame. A sin no amount ofHail Mary’swill absolve me of because this need doesn’t stop with these fleeting moments. They haunt me at night when I close my eyes and slip my hands beneath the covers because it isneverBron behind my eyelids. It’s never his name I moan. I am a terrible person and when they watch me like they’re trying to physically brand me, I don’t know how I’m supposed to resist.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bron charges across the lawn with the wide-eyed outrage of someone catching me stripping down and giving a lap dance.
“What?”
My boyfriend reaches around and snatches my top free of my shorts and shoves it — hard — into my clavicle. The pain is momentarily jarring as the spot pangs where his knuckles have left bruises.
“Put your fucking shirt on,” he hisses. “You’re in public.”
I take the garment when he nudges it harder against me. “I’m wearing a swim top,” I point out, trying to keep my voice low. “It’s a million degrees and I’m sweating.”
Bron’s jaw flexes, a muscle ticking just beneath the shadow of stubble on his cheek. “Are you trying to embarrass me?” he snaps, voice sharp and low enough that it feels like a whip crack meant just for me. “You look like a whore, Everly. Everyone’s staring. If you want to give my dad and Van a show, you can do it when I’m not around.”
My stomach knots painfully.
The shirt dangles uselessly from my fingers, but under the brutal heat of Bron’s glare, I feel naked and exposed. I feel small and vile.
I drag the top over my head with fumbling hands, shame washing over me in a choking tide.
The fabric sticks to my damp skin, catching on my shoulders.
I keep my chin down, mortified and unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“There,” Bron says tightly like I’m a misbehaving child he’s finally forced back into obedience. His hand clamps around the back of my neck under the guise of something affectionate, but there’s nothing tender in the way his fingers dig into the base of my skull and yanks me close like he’s going to kiss me.
I know he won’t. He hasn’t kissed me in months. Maybe longer. I stopped keeping track.
Still, he turns his face into the side of my neck and I fight not to recoil at the hot brush of his breath on my already clammy skin.
“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs near my ear, low enough that no one else can hear. “I don’t want others to see you like that.” He draws back to smile into my face. “I’m trying to protect you, Everly. I looked the other way when you wore those shorts, which are incredibly inappropriate, but I have to draw the line somewhere, right?” He pulls away and the spot he touched prickles like a burn and I have to keep from rubbing it. “You need to have a little more self-respect, you know?” he adds casually. “You’re not Lauren. You’re not a slut who lets a new man fuck her every night.”
My temper spikes at that. “Laurendoesn’t—”
“We’ve all heard the stories. The whole town knows she’s a whore. Bet she even takes money afterwards.”
I shove away from him. “That’s a disgusting thing to say, Bron. I know Lauren better than anyone and you better not be spreading those lies about her.”
He cuts a snort dripping with venom and hate. “She does the spreading without any help from me.”
“Stop it!” I hiss. “I mean it, Bron. Knock it off.”
“Or what?” All humor vanishes and a cold chill rips down my spine. “What are you going to do, Everly? It’s the truth. Everyone knows it, and they’re all talking about you because you’re her friend. What kind of decent woman are you to associate with someone like that? You work at the mayor’s office for Christ sakes. You should know better.”
I open my mouth to argue when a massive figure moves over Bron’s shoulder, interrupting whatever horrible thing he was about to add.
