“I knew I wanted to take you out after.”
My heart skips a beat. He had a show tonight, but still thought about me? I’m not sure what to say. Behind us, the strip pulses with life, even though it’s close to midnight. “It’s still so busy.”
He turns and takes in the scene. “You really never come down here? Goes all night. Bands will be walking up and down the strip until dawn, seeing who can post the most flyers or get theirs the highest on the telephone poles. It will be a sea of colored paper in the morning.”
“That’s crazy.”
He pulls his shoulders up. “Only way to get your name out there. Get people to your shows.”
“Am I taking you away from flyer duty tonight?”
He snorts and hands me a helmet. “Jacob and the guys have it covered.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “I can hang flyers anytime. Tonight, I want to be with you.”
Pleasure zings through me at the sweet words. No one’s ever put me first before. Yes, I’m aware the words are probably designed to gain an all-access pass inside my panties, but, in this moment, I don’t care.
I hop on the bike without asking him where he’s taking me. It’s exciting to make my own decisions for the first time in my life. Even something as simple as who I spend the evening with.
I have no idea where we’re going. The destination doesn’t matter. I just enjoy being free.
Chaser
Finding out Mallory and Audrey were tight was a disappointment I never saw coming. I’m not sure what to do.
Audrey’s a whore.
If that’s who Mallory’s hanging around with, I might have unraveled the mystery of how she affords her fancy-ass apartment.
Except, I don’t get that vibe from Mallory. I’ve spent my whole life around club whores. I can usually spot a hustler before she even opens her mouth or drops to her knees.
Mallory’s different. The sweet, sheltered innocence around her is refreshing.
I have to remind myself that she’s an actress.
Deciding I’ll be distracted until I solve this puzzle, I guide the bike in the direction of her apartment.
Her mouth pulls down as she hands over her helmet. “I thought you wanted to go somewhere?”
“I’m kind of beat.”
“Oh. Okay.” She sounds so disappointed, doubt jabs me in the gut. Maybe she’s exactly what she appears, and I’m making a bigger deal out of her friendship with Audrey than necessary. Mallory’s so innocent, maybe she has no idea her neighbor earns her rent money on her back.
“Well,” she says. “I enjoyed your show. I’ve never seen anything so fun and lively.”
Lively. Interesting choice of words. Sometimes she sounds so much older than twenty.
She tilts her head in a questioning manner, but it takes a second before she asks, “Why did you turn your back to the crowd when you played by yourself?”
My mouth kicks up into a grin. I get asked this question a lot. “My solo style’s unique. Our manager and the band suggested I turn around, so other bands don’t steal my riffs.”
“Other bands? They would do that?”
“Sure. We’re always gathering information on each other.”
Her mouth twitches into an amused smile. “That’s fascinating.”
She says it in such an awed way; it’s obvious she’s sincere and not mocking me.
For the first time, the explanation of why I turn my back to the crowd makes me feel like an arrogant asswipe.
To shake off the unpleasant sensation, I wrap my hands around hers. The connection feels natural. Soothing, even. “Let me walk you to your door.”
At the front of her building, I stop and jerk her against me. “I’m going to kiss you,” I warn her right before taking her mouth. She gasps in surprise, allowing me to slide my tongue against hers. Sharp nails dig into my shoulders where she grips me. Innocently enough, but it sets me off. Sliding my hands under her ass, I pick up her up and pin her to the brick wall next to her door.
She tastes like cinnamon, and underneath the smoky club scent lingering in her hair, she smells like saltwater and sunshine. Every few seconds, I pull away. Just enough for her to moan in protest and drag me back.
Breaking our kiss, I touch my forehead to hers. “Invite me upstairs.” I’m drowning in her eyes, her scent, the taste of her lips.
“I can’t.”
Fuck. Denied again.
“You live with someone?” The question comes out sharper than I intended.
“No.” She frowns. “It’s not that.”
“Got a client, willing to pay for the privilege, coming over?” Fuck me. Why the hell did I say that of all things?
Her eyes widen. “What?” My question seems to sink in, and she slaps her hands against my chest. “Let me go! You think I’m a prostitute?” The shrill hurt in her voice stings so much; I wish I could take the thoughtless question back.
“Well, you’re friends with Audrey,” I say stupidly, as if it justifies my shitty words.
Her hands stop in mid-air, and her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “So?”
Danger flashes in my brain. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. She seems genuinely confused. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” she asks in a low voice. If I had any common sense, I’d roll this conversation back. Apologize. Retreat. Shut the fuck up.
But I’ve never been good at admitting when I’m wrong or holding back my opinions. “She’s an escort,” I explain.
Another blank look.
“An expensive prostitute,” I add.
Mallory—sweet girl that she is—shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re wrong. She’s a salesgirl.”
I chuckle at that one. “Yeah, she sells her body.”
She stabs me with an accusatory look. “How do you know this?”
“Honey, I don’t have enough money to pay for a fuck. Nor do I need to. You saw the girls lined up at the club. I’m drowning in groupies every night.” Hell-oh-fucking-mighty, why do the stupidest words continue to fly out of my mouth around this chick?
She pulls away and grabs the door.
“Well, maybe you should go back to the club. Good night, Chaser.”
I reach out and flatten my hand against the door to stop her from slipping inside. “Mallory, wait. I’m sorry.”
Her soft sigh drifts back to me. “I’m tired.”
Tired? Or tired of me? Wouldn’t blame her for the latter. I’m pretty damn tired of myself right about now. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I drop my hand from the door, and she yanks it open, disappearing inside.
Fuck. I never got her number. Should I sit and throw rocks at her window like some dickweed from one of those girly feel-good movies?
Nope, can’t do that either. Got no clue which window belongs to her.
I need a few hours’ sleep, so I can come up with a plan to make this right. I fucked up big here. This girl has me questioning everything I’ve been doing with my life up until now.
I’m not sure exactly what I want from her, but I can’t let it end this way.
Mallory