Page 20
I couldn’t look at her because my head was a mess—thick with alcohol and torment. Our earlier conversation flashed through my mind again, making me wince.
“I don’t think being known as the local bus equals game, Forde,” Cameron teased, but I’d seen a hint of judgment in her eyes that pricked my pride.
“Local bus? Harsh, Cameron, harsh.”
“I’m confused. What does that mean?” London asked.
“It means Forde will give anyone a ride.”
Hurt flared through me, so I’d lashed out, staring Cameron pointedly in the eyes. “Not anyone.”
She stiffened at the reminder that I had avoided anything sexual with her since my twenty-first birthday. “Well, not everyone wants an STD, Forde.”
I’d deserved that.
I didn’t deserve her.
“Go home, Cameron.”
“Not without you.” She slipped off the stool and grabbed my arm. “Home. Now, Forde.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Well, you need to.” Sue, one of the older bartenders, swiped away the glass in front of me. “We’re closed.”
Grumbling under my breath, I got off the stool and gestured grumpily at Cameron. “Lead the way.”
The cold night air hit me, shocking my system into a state of semi-sobriety. Instead of heading home, I was drawn across the cobbled road toward the harbor. The water lapped roughly against the boats anchored below us, and I sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to forget Eoghan McCall’s accusations that we’d killed Liam.
I hoped the fucker decided to leave the island now that he’d been arrested for attempting to knock down Taran. He’d also vandalized Cameron’s Defender, but I’d fix that. I cut her a look as she leaned against the harbor barrier next to me. The wind blew her hair off her face, and this weird squeezing sensation tightened my chest.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met.
That had never changed.
Though we had.
And I hated it.
She’d fucked that pissant of a wee laddie for almost a year, but she’d never tried to have sex with me again.
“Did he make you come?” I asked, the resentment and jealousy eating away at me and robbing me of all decency and common sense.
Cameron cut me a disbelieving look. “Did you really just ask me that?”
I curled my lip. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Cameron sneered right back at me. “Then you’d be wrong. Greig might be young, but he knows how to pleasure a woman.”
“What does that mean?” I turned toward her, anger making my already alcohol-heated blood hotter.
She shrugged wearily. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, you meant something by that.” I leaned in, that heat building deep in my gut. “And it would be a fucking lie because I still remember how hard you came around my dick.”
Her breath hitched as she searched my face in confusion.
Finally, she huffed, “You’re drunk. Time to go home.”
