Every time I blink the room seems to swirl, not because of the shot I’d had with Stacy earlier, but because I’ve yet to be freed from the euphoric haze of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Not one single time has a man been so attentive to my needs.
My rock god had been dogged in his pursuit of my ecstasy, and now I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for a month. I know when I close my eyes, I’ll be reliving those blissful moments over and over again. It’s going to color my dreams crimson for weeks, and I’ll feel the pressure of his fingertips over my body for even longer.
I gaze up at him, basking in the glow of pleasure in his eyes as the faintest hint of a smile graces his handsome mouth. I still don’t know anything about him. We didn’t waste time sharing personal details and the last thing I want to do now is ruin this moment by pressing for any. I need this heavenly haze to last and that means it’s time to go.
Every girl knows it’s best to leave them wanting more.
Strong fingers hook under my thighs as he falls to his knees in front of me. He’s still shirtless but his pants grace his hips again, though the button remains undone giving me a tantalizing view. My eyes follow the wisp of dark curling ink that disappears beneath his rock-hard abs, making a tremor of desire quake through me once more.
He reaches for the bottle of tequila, taking a healthy swig before offering me the bottle. I politely shake my head. He sets the bottle down and smooths my skirt over my thighs though his hands linger, his dark eyes peering through equally dark lashes at me.
I bite the corner of my mouth, my head tilting back as I collapse against the arm of the couch. He pulls me toward him, his lips grazing mine with another kiss that leaves me breathless.
“If you keep doing this, we’re never going to get out of here,” I whisper, startled by the seductive throatiness of my voice.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” he answers playfully.
He grins and reaches for the bottle of tequila again, taking another swig straight from the bottle. The question of his identity almost rises up my throat but I swallow it. I can look him up later without seeming clingy. I’ve been in the dating world long enough to know that you can’t lay all your cards on the table at once. I mean, sure, my old roommate Chloe did, and she got lucky, but lightning doesn’t strike twice.
Manhattan is a man-eater, you have to play it careful and you have to play it coy to snag a guy like this.
If what he wants is an all-night fling, then I’m going to have to leave right now so that he can’t get me off his mind.
Instead of capturing that delicious tequila infused mouth of his again, I reach past him and grab a scrap of paper and pen off the table. I write my number and scrawl my name under the digits before setting it face down on the table.
“That’s my number,” I say simply, bending so close to his face that our noses brush and his chin tips reflexively toward my own. Though I want to kiss him more than anything, I somehow manage to resist. “Use it,” I whisper.
I stand up, step around him and head for the door.
I feel his eyes follow me the entire way. Walking out of this dressing room is the single hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do. Every inch of my body is craving one more kiss, one more touch, one more romp on that legendary sofa. But I stay strong and I keep my eyes focused forward as I leave. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that he wants me just as badly as I want him.
He’ll probably call before I even get home.
There’s no way he’ll let me get very far, not with the look of raw lust I saw in his eyes.
I slip outside, smiling to myself as I close the dressing room door behind me.
Outside the bar, I find Stacy waiting just where she promised. We push our way through the people on the sidewalk. She stumbles just slightly, clinging to me as we walk quickly away from the bar. After a minute or two, I look back over my shoulder, half hoping to see my hunky rockstar following me. Unfortunately, the sidewalk is empty of rock gods.
“So . . .” Stacy presses.
I only offer her a sly smirk.
“Oh my God!” she accuses. “You totally got it on with that guy, didn't you?”
My glowing grin is all the answer she needs.
“I knew it! The second I saw him I knew he was your type, all tall, dark and broody.” She rolls her eyes. “So much for your whole ‘woe is me, I hate all men stuff,’ huh?”
“He’s not all men.” I can’t help but sigh wistfully. “Stacy, you have no idea,” I whisper, shaking my head and trying to remember how to breathe. Just thinking about him makes me blush. “That was the most intense, most amazing, most wonderful thing I have ever experienced in my life.”
Stacy stops walking. “Wow, really?”
Nodding, I sigh again.
“Damn, what’s this Romeo’s name?” Stacy demands. “And does he possibly have a single brother?”
The question makes my dreamy grin turn to a grimace “Um . . . Actually, I have no idea. I didn't ask.”
“What? How could you forget to ask?” Stacy whips her head back toward the bar, squinting to read the band name off the marquee. “Huh, Rasping Sallies. He didn’t look like a Sally to me. You should’ve gotten his name, Morgan.”
I roll my eyes. “You know how it is. I didn't want to seem to clingy. We’d just hooked up, I didn’t want him to think I was stalking him like some kinda groupie.”
“By asking his name?”
I shrug. “I left my number. He can call me . . . which he will.”
Stacy shakes her head. “This is why I don’t date.”
I smile and squeeze her arm tighter while we walk. “I have a good feeling about this one.” A really good feeling.
The night air is warm as we walk. The breeze caresses my long blonde hair the same way my handsome musician had. When I close my eyes, I can still see his face, I can still feel his fingers locked with mine as he pinned my arms over my head . . .
A shiver rolls up my spine.
He’ll call me, I know he will, and the rest will be history.
I look around me, cataloging everything I can about tonight. I’ll want to tell our kids everything about the night I met their rockstar father. Well maybe not everything . . .
But I know a connection like this only happens once in a lifetime. And for the first time in a long time, I feel a genuine smile on my face and hope in my heart.
Chapter 9
Eric
The dressing room feels cold and empty without my beautiful angel in it. My body moves on its own, sagging heavily down against the arm of the faded sofa where our bodies rested only moments ago. I can still hear her soft moans in my ears and feel her fingernails running over my skin, making my still shirtless back erupt in goose bumps that leave every inch of me tingling.
I take another shot of tequila to dull the ache her absence has left me with. The booze blurs the edges of my mind, crippling tiredness creeping in like a storm. I fight against the tide of my exhaustion, desperate to know the name of the woman who left an imprint on my heart, but every move feels like I’m fighting against gravity.
In a haze, I twist slightly toward the note that she left, trying to imagine what her name might be. Despite my curiosity, I’m unable to convince my legs to move yet. Every inch of my body feels like it’s buzzing with euphoric energy thanks to the tequila and mind-blowing sex. I glance toward her note again, but in the end, I succumb to fatigue. I sag against the sofa and breathe in the lingering fragrance of her body as I fall asleep.