More Than Lies (More Than #1)(7)

I look away, because well, I have to. It’s hard to look at him and not ogle. Shawn’s six-foot-two stature towers just above my five-foot-eight-inches. I’m not tiny in any means, but neither is Shawn. Where I’m a little fluffy, he’s cut. I’ve seen Shawn plenty of times in next to nothing. His thighs are massive and drool worthy. The entire length of his left arm and the majority of his muscular back is embellished with tattoos. At the moment, he’s clad in a black T-shirt with the logo of the tattoo studio he works at, Southern Ink, displayed on the front, and loose fitting blue jeans that don’t look that loose on him.

I might be making an attempt not to ogle, but every female in this room except the redhead attached to Mason’s hip, isn’t making the same attempts. I roll my eyes. Shawn gets this type of attention often—too often.

“Who are you?” Shawn demands looking at Preston, eyeing him from head to toe. Shawn’s not much of a social person; well he is, to a degree. He was always one of the popular kids in high school, but he doesn’t seek people out or shoot the shit. He does, however, make a point to know who everyone is that enters the house. Shawn is in charge of making sure it stays intact and that no one gets hurt while they are here. Ultimately, what he says goes. He’ll kick someone out without a thought if he thinks they’re being stupid or might be untrustworthy.

“Oh, that’s Preston,” Amanda pipes up even though she wasn’t the one being spoken to. “He’s Taralynn’s date.” The bitch sounds smug and I have no idea why. When is Matt going to wake up and see the hideous behind the facade? Probably never. Why? Because men think with their cocks and Matt is no different. He’s been dating Amanda since high school. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now.

Shawn comes to perch against the section of the counter I’m leaning against. His hip presses against mine. He wraps his inked covered arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I have no choice but to wrap my arm around his lower back while the palm on my other hand rests over the material covering his abdomen in order to steady myself. I’m not foreign to Shawn’s body. I’ve known him practically my whole life. There have been plenty of times that I’ve touched him or he’s touched me. All innocent, of course. He’s the only person that knows where to tickle me and loves to remind me of that fact as often as possible. But this touch . . . has great potential to be anything but innocent.

I glance up to meet his stare finding Shawn’s eyebrows turned inward. His creamy, brown eyes have golden flecks sparkling throughout the shade tonight. That only happens when he gets pissed off. So what’s his deal, now? I’ve often wondered and even fantasized if that same intensity increases when he’s turned on, too.

“Date, huh?” His tone bites into me. I can only nod my confirmation. Being pressed against him in this way is as much torture for my body as it is my brain. Shawn makes me feel and want things no other man has ever managed to achieve. It’s not like I want to feel this way about him. Especially since I’ll never end up in his bed. He’s made that clear multiple times. Always when I’m drunk, when I have the courage to tell him I want him. Every time, he rejects me. He shuts me down. You would think I’d stop trying by now. No matter how big of an A-hole he is to me, I continue to be drawn to him.

Let me tell you. It sucks big donkey balls.

He looks back in Preston’s direction, eyeing him as if contemplating what to say. I’m not sure why. I don’t believe for a second that Shawn gives two craps who I go out with. The only thing I figure is maybe he doesn’t like the vibe Preston is giving off and wants him out of his grandparents’ house.

His eyes turn back to me, his lips forming a snarl as he leans down to my ear. “You planning on taking Princeton over there upstairs for some good old fashioned boring ass missionary, tonight, Tara? I mean, as a writer of romance and someone who reads trashy books, can’t you show the guy a better time than that?” It takes me a few seconds for what spills out of his mouth to register. I can feel the heat rise in my face instantly, but my brain can’t fathom it. He didn’t just say that to me! But he did. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am, because Shawn rarely makes his nasty comments where others can hear them. They’ve always been for my ears only. Apparently not tonight, though. Without looking around, I can tell from the sharp gasps and Amanda’s snickering that everyone heard what he said. “No, I didn’t think so,” Shawn mutters with a smirk.

I can’t stomach their looks, so I bolt from the kitchen. I don’t care that I’m being rude to Preston and leaving him there to fend for himself. I didn’t like the guy anyway. It’s not like I wanted a second date. I didn’t even want to go on this one. He can tell my mother whatever he wants.

Shawn is an effin’ jerk and a half.





CHAPTER TWO





SHAWN





As my bare feet stomp down each wooden step, the pounding inside my skull intensifies. Why, oh, why did I take those shots at the bar followed by whatever it was I poured down my throat when I got home last night? I knew I had to be up at the ass crack of dawn. I don’t think I’ve seen daylight this early in the morning since I was in high school. I hated it then, too.

I round the bottom of the staircase and then head toward the kitchen. Pausing, I do a double take as I notice bodies sprawled out on every surface of the living room. Shaking my head from side to side, I attempt to wake up a little more, but I only end up intensifying the throbbing pain more than it initially was.