I frowned at the image he'd selected. It was an artistic sort of black-and-white image of Steele's hands—I knew they were his, don't ask me how—lying gently on...
"A piano?" I asked, uncertain if that's what the image was actually of. It had sharp shadows and highlights, but the more I looked, the more certain I became. "You're a pianist?"
He gave a rolling shrug, like it made him a bit uncomfortable. "I was. Am. I dunno. My parents had plans to make me into a concert pianist, but it doesn't really gel with... me. I guess." He sort of mumbled his answer, then took a long gulp of his beer.
I frowned. "But wait. Why are video games banned but working on cars is okay? I doubt you're constantly covered in grease just ‘cause it makes you look hot."
He gave me a sly grin. "You think I'm hot, Hellcat?"
I rolled my eyes. "You know you are."
He barked a laugh. "Yeah, I do." Reaching over, he swiped the screen so it scrolled up to more recent images. Modeling shoots of him, Kody, and Archer in nothing but jeans and a whole lot of sweat. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. "Part-time male model, remember? But I'm just verifying the fact that you think I'm hot. Totally different thing."
"Shut up and answer the question, Max." I deliberately used his first name and was rewarded with his slight cringe.
"Which is it, Hellcat? Shut up or answer the question?" He raised his brows at me, taking another sip of his drink without breaking eye contact. Fucking hell. Ugh, I'd be lucky to make it back to the house with my dignity intact if he kept that up.
I narrowed my eyes, and he smirked.
"Working on cars is not okay, exactly. Neither is sparring with Kody and Arch. But Jase—our manager—has given up trying to stop me from doing shit that I love. The video games, though?" He wrinkled his nose, looking a bit ashamed. "Four years ago we had a hardcore gaming session for an entire weekend when a new game got released. Somehow, uh, I broke a bone in here." He extended his left hand to me, pointing at a small scar at the base of his thumb, near his wrist. "Then a couple of weeks later, while I was in a cast, the expansion pack got released. So we had another gaming session, and I re-broke the same healing bone."
I winced sympathetically, and he laughed.
"It wasn't that bad, really. Except I missed my audition for Julliard and my parents threatened to sue the console manufacturers. After that, video games were banned." He sighed wistfully, and I almost wanted to smile. Almost.
"How is that still a thing?" I asked instead. "You're, what, twenty-one? Who gives a shit about what your parents say?"
"Uh, yeah. They can take a flying leap off a tall building for all I care. But until I decide whether I'm actually done with piano or not, the guys and Jase are holding me to it." He finished his beer, then pulled out the flask again.
I nodded, having nothing more to say about his situation. It was interesting, though, and totally unexpected from this tattooed, grease-covered bad boy. Oh fuck, fine, who was I kidding? It was sexy as hell, and I couldn't stop my mind from whirling on how good he must be with his fingers...
I switched my attention to the fight once more, having totally lost track of what round they were on. Four? Five? Why was it suddenly so fucking hard to focus?
My beer was gone, but Steele handed me the flask of rum again. Like more alcohol would help me keep my sanity. Hah.
"Can I ask you a question, Hellcat?" he asked after a moment of tense silence between us. The crowd was loud, roaring and cheering for the fighters in the ring, but I barely even noticed. It was like the two of us existed inside a bubble.
I gulped rum again, shuddering as it scorched my throat. "Sure."
He shuffled closer to me on the countertop, his leg brushing mine as he leaned in close. "Watching MMA fights turns you on, doesn't it?"
I sucked in a sharp breath, my shoulders tense. It was an observation that I couldn't deny for the most part, except tonight. Tonight... my dizzy state of arousal had nothing to do with the fighters grappling in the octagon and everything to do with my drinking buddy.
Raising the flask back to my lips to buy a moment, I risked a quick glance at Steele. Or it was meant to be a quick glance, had his gaze not captured and held mine.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, my voice husky and low. I took a sip of rum, and he broke eye contact to watch my lips on the flask. Against my better judgment, after I lowered the flask, my tongue swiped the excess spirit from my lips.
Steele's eyes flashed with unmistakable desire, and he raised his hand to my face. His thumb swiped over my lower lip, then he placed it in his own mouth, sucking the flavor from it.
"I think I found my new favorite drink," he commented in a rough, lust-filled voice.
Fuck. Me.
My whole being was aware of his nearness, and all it'd take was a couple of inches to close the gap between us. It'd be so easy... so fucking easy to just give in to desire and forget all the ill will between us. But then where did that leave me? Without my hatred and resentment toward the three boys I'd met on Riot Night, I didn't even know who I'd be. I'd totally lost myself in the past year, and it scared me too much to just let it go.
So I did what any girl in my situation would do. I wrenched my gaze away and scanned the room for an escape route.
"I've got to pee," I announced, slipping down off the countertop and damn near running in the direction of the ladies room I'd just spotted.
The second I created some distance between Steele and me, it was like I could breathe again. Maybe if I splashed some cold water on my face, I could snap the hell out of it. Except Archer had given an order, hadn't he? Don't wander off alone. Silly me for thinking he hadn't also impressed this upon his boys.
Long, tanned fingers circled my wrist as I ducked into the corridor leading to the restrooms, and Steele jerked me around to face him.
The raw, desperate desire on his face was all it took to snap my already shaky control.
I was so, utterly, screwed.
17
Kissing Steele was nothing like I'd imagined it would be. And I wasn't even trying to deny I'd imagined it multiple times over the past week, if not just in the past twenty minutes.
No. It was about sixteen thousand times better.
His fingers twisted in my hair, yanking my head back and as he kissed me like he was drowning. It was frantic and wild, our teeth clashing and our tongues wrestling as I explored that piercing that’d teased me all week. My arms locked around his neck, clinging and pulling him closer even as he pushed against me, walking me backward into the nearest restroom.
Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to when our bodies were doing all the talking for us. Steele's lips left mine, trailing across my jaw and down my neck as I boosted my ass up on the vanity and yanked him closer. But I needed more. I needed him closer still.
I shoved his jacket off his shoulders, then slid my hands across his flat, hard stomach, searching for the hem of his shirt. He was so fucking hot I felt like I was literally playing with fire. But then I was way past the point of caution. I stripped his T-shirt off, letting it drop to the dirty floor with his jacket, then sucked in a sharp breath of appreciation.