The steel returns to my spine, and I feel like, by giving a voice to all of the pent-up emotions I’ve been refusing to acknowledge, I can finally breathe again.
“Broken Little Stella. Roofied and assaulted in the same fucking dirty barn I was conceived in.” The laugh that erupts from my throat is choppy and harsh, and now I’m practically yelling, my fisted hands dropping to my sides. “Is that supposed to be some kind of cosmic joke? ‘Cause I’m not laughing, and I’m nobody’s fucking punchline.” I practically spit the last words, and my chin raises as I speak my truth with no shame and zero fucks left to give. “So yeah, I had to leave because the thought of you looking at me like I was something weak and small and damaged was too much for me to handle on top of everything else.”
After the last words leave my mouth, pride and desire twine together and flare darkly in Poe’s deep blue eyes, burning out the hurt and anger.
He drops his arms from the doorframe and is across the small space in three long strides. His familiar, strong hands dive into my hair, and he grips the raven strands tightly while he brutally crushes his mouth to mine. He coaxes my lips apart, tangling our tongues. The metal of his piercing immediately reminds me of other places I’ve felt that hard little ball, causing a little electric shiver to run through me.
Feeling my response, Poe slides his hands slowly from my hair, tracing the pads of his fingertips down my arms and over my hips. Not breaking our kiss, he slides his hands under my thighs, grips tightly, and quickly lifts me onto the edge of the sink. Stepping forcefully between my legs, one hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans, and his fingers dig deliciously into my ass cheek. At the same time, the other grasps my wrist and slides our joined hands between us, turning my palm so I can feel how hard he is through his joggers.
Tearing his lips from mine, both of us breathless and panting, he locks eyes with me.
“Don’t you dare think for one fucking second that I pity you or see you as anything other than the beautiful, badass, strong woman you are. Got it?” He removes his hand from my wrist to slowly trace the outline of my lips with his index finger, while I leave my palm exactly where he put it. “If anybody sees you any differently, fuck ‘em. Their heads are obviously up their asses.” He gives me one of those lopsided grins I love so much, and the emotion behind his words shines from the deepest parts of his gorgeous blue eyes.
Like a battery that just needed a boost, his words and his touch are jumper cables to my psyche, flooding me with a rush of color.
Feeling more like myself than I have in weeks, the corners of my mouth turn upwards. Continuing to hold Poe’s heated gaze, my fingertips boldly walk their way up to his waistband and slowly dip beneath it. His hardness slides smoothly along my palm as I wrap my hand around him and start to stroke his length. The groan he tries in vain to stifle only makes me grip him more firmly, and he leans forward to run the tip of his tongue softly along the edge of my earlobe.
“Star, if you don’t stop now, I’m going to rip those holey jeans off and fuck you right here against this sink,” he warns, whispering low next to my ear before nipping the side of my neck gently.
“I thought we agreed no more bathrooms?” Unable to hide my snicker or the liquid warmth pulsing between my legs, I squirm slightly, and his lips dive hungrily for my exposed collarbone.
“Hey, you guys all right back here? Everybody still alive?” Sunday calls loudly as she purposefully stomps her way down the hall toward the restroom, giving us ample warning we’re no longer alone back here. Poe lifts his face to the ceiling with a frustrated sigh, and I pull my hand from the front of his pants just as Sunday pokes her head around the doorframe, one hand over her eyes.
“It’s okay, Sun, we’re decent.” I chuckle. Splitting her fingers into a V, she peeks quickly to verify before removing her hand entirely.
“Not for lack of trying though, I see.” She raises her eyebrows, grinning lasciviously at us. With a groaned drawn-out curse, Poe pulls me down off the edge of the sink and herds me in the direction of the giggling blonde.
“Both of you. Out.” He kisses the top of my head and shoves us out the door, slamming and locking it behind us.
“What do you think he’s gonna do in there?” Sunday whispers loudly, making a stroking motion with her fist. “Shake hands with shorty?” We both burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“I can hear you, you know! Can’t you leave a guy with a raging fucking hard-on in peace for two minutes?” He yells through the door. That just makes us laugh harder, but I drag Sunday out into the main kitchen area where she throws her arms around me and squeezes tight.
“I missed you, Stell.” Hugging her back just as tightly, I revel in feeling almost like a fully functioning human again.
“I missed me, too, Sun.”
Sally gets the five of us set up in the red vinyl booth with juice, French toast, and the magic coffee that Sunday was begging for earlier.
“For reals, Stella tried to poison me with her version of coffee this morning. She needs lessons, Sally. Stat. Pronto. I’ll pay you to teach her, anything you want!” Laughing, the diner owner waves her desperate plea away and moves to take care of the other customers starting to fill the diner. “Friends don’t let friends drink things that taste that awful!” Sunday yells over our heads to Sally’s retreating back.
Sandwiched cozily between Payne and Sunday, I relish the return of my appetite and plow through my breakfast with enthusiasm while enjoying the sight of the two handsome men across the table from me. There is nothing of Eunice Halliday visible in Poe; he is most definitely his father’s son. They share the same smoldering deep blue eyes, high cheekbones, strong jawline, and the single dimple that appears when they laugh. Or whenever they think it might come in handy.
Those dimples have been many a female’s undoing, I’m sure.
The only real things that set them apart are their height, with Holt having a good two inches on his son’s already impressive six-foot-two frame, and their hair. While Poe’s is still a deep rich espresso, the elder Halliday’s has silvered in the sides and back.
Poe catches me studying them, and in my haste to look like I’m doing anything but that, I grab my juice. Unfortunately, I swallow half of it so awkwardly, it causes me to have a brief but painful coughing fit. He arches an eyebrow and shoots me a devilish grin full of so much naughty promise it sets off a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my belly.
Holy shit, he’s hot. How the hell can somebody pack that much sexual innuendo into one facial expression?
Like she can sense my thoughts, Sunday finishes pounding on my back and leans over to rest her chin on my shoulder.
“Stell, get your mind out of Poe’s gutter, you bad girl.” Her stage whisper is, of course, anything but quiet, and Mr. Halliday discreetly tries to cover his laugh with his napkin while I turn at least seven shades of red.
“But I like it when her mind is in my gutter, Sun. It keeps me on my toes. Or on my knees, as the case may be.” Poe’s eyes flash wickedly, adding a few extra layers to my mortification. Unable to hold it in any longer, Poe’s father just shrugs his shoulders at me in a half-assed apology for his son and lets his booming laughter loose. Not one to be left out of the ‘embarrass the hell out of Stella’ fun, Payne decides to add his two cents.