Crave (The Gibson Boys 3) - Page 53

My heart skips a beat. Then two. He nods absentmindedly to the patron who just took the beer and ignores the money being flashed his way. As he stalks his way toward me instead, it skips a third.

The unknown buzzes through my veins. The glow of the pink flamingo lights hanging above the antique mirror that frames the liquor bottles gives him a warm, roguish glow. The hottest thing, besides my cheeks, is the way he looks at me.

One hand cups his chin, his fingers working back and forth over his mouth as if he’s trying to hide a smile. His eyes are trained on me so intently I squirm in my seat. Desire pools in my lower belly. My stomach topples over itself, unable to steady against the fire coming from his gorgeous eyes. My palms dampen.

Breathe, Hadley.

“You ready for this?” Peck cracks beside me.

“Ready for what?” Cross asks, looking up from his phone. “Oh, shit.”

“Incoming in five … four … three … two … one … liftoff,” Peck whispers, bringing a bottle of beer to his lips.

“Hey, Mach,” I say, hoping to take some of the wind out of his sails by speaking first.

He plants both palms on the bar. Hard. His gaze lingers on me for a few long seconds before he rips them away and plops them on my brother. “Really, Cross?”

“We were just coming in to say hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Machlan deadpans. His fingertips strum against the counter, a sound I only barely hear over the roar of the crowd.

He extends a finger toward my hand, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s going to touch me. The longer we sit, the more the edge of frustration wavers off his face.

“I can’t take this,” Peck says. “Somebody say something.” He looks back and forth between us. “Fine. I’ll go. What a great game. I have no idea who is playing, but I’m for the green team.”

I snort. “I thought you were for the Navie team.” My shoulder bumps his. “Get it? Navie. Navy.”

Peck laughs. “So witty tonight, Ms. Jacobs.”

“Yeah, I try.”

I also try super hard not to whip my gaze right back to Machlan, but I fail. It’s like he can order my body to do what he wants from the other side of the bar. Like I’m Pavlov’s dog—he dangles the treat and I start salivating. It’s unfair, really.

“I need to get out of here,” Cross says. “Kallie just sent me a text that she’s home, and you know …”

“We know,” Peck groans. “Kallie is home, and you’re pussy whipped. Congratulations.”

“Fuck off, Peck,” Cross says atop my laughter.

Peck just shrugs.

“So you guys are going?” Machlan asks. He looks at my brother, then at me, then drags his eyes back to Cross. “Is that what I heard?”

“I don’t know about Hadley …”

Machlan stands tall. His posture is on point as he looks at Cross. “Oh, I do. Trust me, Cross. A case of blue balls is gonna hurt a whole lot less than the knot I put on your head if you leave her here.”

“Asking me to take her home would go a lot smoother if you do it nicely,” Cross counters.

“Excuse me?” I start to get off the stool but stop when Peck rests a hand gently on my forearm. Shaking him off, I sit back down. “I am right here and perfectly capable of making a decision on where I want to be tonight. Thank you. Both,” I add, looking over my shoulder at my brother.

“Excuse me, but I have a business to run tonight. If I don’t pay attention to what’s happening in here, it’ll all fall apart. Thank you. Both,” Machlan says, unwavering.

He’s dropped the bite in his tone a few decibels. There’s a certain level of sternness in his words, but something that might be the beginning of a plea too. I start to respond when a shriek breaks out from the back.

We all jump as the sound breaks from near the pool tables. Voices rise over the music and the other customers’ chatter. Instinctively, I grab Peck’s arm.

I can’t see what’s happening over the crowd of people, but my heart pounds out of control. Machlan wastes no time jumping on top of the bar in front of me.

Any vulnerability I might’ve seen in him today is long gone. He stands like a soldier, looking menacingly down at an unidentified person in the back.

He looks tall and dark and sexy as fuck. And even though I’m latched on to Peck for protection, my body is wound around Machlan.

“Darren!” His voice booms through the room. Everything stills. If it weren’t for the music playing through the speakers, you could hear a pin drop. “That’s your one! One more time and you’re gone. Got it?”

Machlan watches something, or someone, intently before hopping back to the ground. Slowly, the noise level picks back up. I might start breathing again too.

Tags: Adriana Locke The Gibson Boys Romance
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