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myself in his brown soulful eyes, in the curve of his unsmiling lips, in the angle of his jaw and the width of his shoulders. This man is truly confounding. It can be easy to peg him as only a troubled man, but there’s more to him. After all, there’s more to anybody than what meets the eyes.
    I lean closer to him, just a tiny bit, and I sigh. Tension deserts me and I let my head fall against the back of the couch, my hair a little wild around me. I breathe in Jensen’s cologne mixed with the alcohol he drank earlier today and that little something that’s all male and dark. “Who are you really?’’ I whisper.
    His pink tongue traces his lips again, quickly and I don’t miss even a nano second of it. “Don’t look at me like that.’’
    I glance back up and his eyes are even darker now. Intense. “Like what?’’
    “Fuck. Don’t play that game.’’
    I’m about to tell him I’m not playing when his face gets close to mine, so very close that I can count his thick lashes. And I can’t talk. I’m mute. I drop my gaze to his parted lips and I bite on mine, my teeth only adding to the mess inside me, enhancing things I don’t want to face, things I shouldn’t be feeling and even less while looking at this older man, the father of my best friend.
    Then, his hooded eyelids close and I jump back, as if electrocuted back into action. I gasp and he leans back, away from me, almost as if he’s trying to mold himself with the couch itself. We stare at each other and I can’t take it any more. I jump to my feet and hightail it to my room, ignoring him when he calls my name in his raspy voice, huskier than usual. But it’s harder to ignore the fast rhythm of my heart in my chest and the shivers running through my body.
     
    ***
     
    JENSEN
     
    “Fuck me.’’
    I punch the pillow next to my hip and bite back the growl forming deep in my chest. I need to hit something harder that offers more resistance if I want to get this out. This…This fucking lust for the very wrong person. A person I made run out of here with my not so smooth move. She must think I’m a sick bastard, hitting on a young woman like that. She’s sixteen years younger than me for Pete’s sake.
    I push on my legs and stand up, swaying a second or two until the room stops swirling and making me want to hurl all over again. I run a hand on my face, still sweaty, and I take a few steps toward the kitchen, ready to grab the cheap tequila in one of the cupboards and drink enough to push me into a deep sleep that would be akin to a coma. I just need to fucking stop feeling, thinking and I must put an end to this hard-on that never goes away.
    My fingers grip the bottle neck, the cold glass raising goosebumps on my almost feverish skin, and I straighten up with my prize in hand, heavily leaning on the counter in the small kitchen. It shouldn’t take much to take me out.
    I glance at the clock. Hal shouldn’t take long to get his ass back home. I need to hurry and hole up in my room. I don’t want him to ever see my messy self like that, and I don’t want to lie to his face to the reason why I’m actually planning on using alcohol to fall asleep. For once, I’m not seeking oblivion because of my usual shit. No, this time around I’ve upgraded; I’m trying to forget how much I want to fuck Hal’s best friend. I scoff at myself and slowly walk to the stairs, psyching myself to climb the mean stairs and fall face first on my bed.
    Carefully, I take one step at a time and once I’m on the upper level, I take a healthy sip of tequila straight from the bottle. It’s my way of congratulating myself for not falling down and making a bigger spectacle of myself for Aideen’s entertainment.
    The liquid burns down my throat and I almost moan at the warmth already softening my edges. I let my bad shoulder support my weight against the wall and I barely feel the sting of pain. My buzz is already coming back with a vengeance and the pain seems like a