Twice Shy (The Restraint Series) by Jill C Flanagan, Jill Christie Read Free Book Online

up to the bar to greet Sarge. Never failing to get to the point, Sarge said, “Mary’s at two o’clock and Brendan’s at five.”
    Stace turned around to look for Brendan and he was on his feet, cautious as he walked to her, trying not to spook her perhaps. She looked at him. He’d filled out, not tremendously, but what he had was honed. He had on what looked like a soft brown t-shirt and barely blue jeans, so broken in they had almost been leached of color.
    His chest was well defined on his six-foot frame. Nice biceps, not steroidal big, but large enough to convey strength. His jeans hung low in the front, low enough that when he moved, she could see the barest glimpse of belly. His caramel hair was in need of a haircut, thick and slightly shaggy, but not long.
    His green eyes were as bright and perceptive as ever. As alpha male as ever. Many people thought a man couldn’t be dominant in life and submissive in the bedroom. That was the best kind. The kind who wanted to take care of their mate, protect them, and then submit in the bedroom, knowing full well they could overpower their Domme at any moment if they so chose. Having a strong man submit? The sexiest damn thing in the world.
    She turned her head towards him, and he sped his pace. “Cee.” His voice sounded raspy, hoarse. Even that was sexy.
    “Please don’t call me that. Stacy or Stace will do.”
    He nodded. Looked deeply into her eyes. “Stacy, can we talk?”
    “What do you want to talk about?”
    “Just talk. About anything.” His green eyes focused on her blue ones. Sending bolts of unwanted heat to her nether -regions. Swallowing hard, he said, “Anything. But if you let me I want to apologize. And explain. Not justify, but explain.” He made a placating gesture with his hands as if he thought he would spook her. That Stacy would either verbally attack him or walk out.
    She hated that she was still attracted to him. But West was right. They needed to talk over some things.
    West walked by at that moment, his fingers brushing hers. “The things I do for love,” he said with resignation as he headed towards Mary.
    Another cliché. But true. He was flirting with Mary for her, trying to get a name. Her real name.
    She returned her gaze to Brendan, who was patiently waiting. “I don’t want to talk in here. I don’t want to go to your mother’s.” It felt wrong after all this time to show him Sarge’s place. “That leaves my motel room. Come on, you can give me a lift up there.”
    After telling Sarge where she would be, they left. Brendan opened the door for her. He was coiled tension, clenching and unclenching his keys in his hand as if they were an exercise toy. Stacy could tell he didn’t want to screw this up; he wanted forgiveness. Stacy wondered if she had it to give. Thinking back to her counseling sessions, she was always told letting go and forgiving were better for Stacy’s own emotional state. Doing so wasn’t always about the guilty party, but about her.
    Maybe there really was some truth in that. She didn’t feel the resentment she’d expected to experience for Mary or Brendan. She didn’t like Mary much and hadn’t totally forgiven her. Or him. Thankful for where her life ended up. Maybe coming back to this shit-hole was cleansing. Who knew?
    By tacit agreement, nothing was said until they were in Stacy’s room. Thankfully it wasn’t a mess inside. Years of Tim and West’s combined tidy genes had rubbed off on her. Some.
    Stacy sat in one chair and motioned Brendan to sit in the other.
    Silence ensued for quite a long time. Stacy was looking at Brendan, seeing again how he’d physically changed in the past eight years. The soft look teens’ faces had was no longer there. The muscles he had were mostly veinless. Not bulging, but well defined in a soft layer of smooth skin. A brush of dark brown arm hair had sprouted at some point, lightly furring his arms but not his hands.
    He was even better-looking now then back