“You have the same bracelet?”
Lily glanced down at hers. “The Om? Yeah. I gave it to Ro–”
“Right before his first tour. I heard.”
Rohan one-arm hugged her. “I charmed you into buying it for me.”
Lily snorted and ducked out from his hold. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw it at your head. You were such a jerk that day.”
“I was cranky from lack of sleep.” Rohan gave her a pointed stare and Lily blushed.
Kill me. The E was wearing off, leaving me with an edgy restless thread coursing through my exhaustion. “Well, it was a very long night and it’s way past my bedtime.”
“It looks like you had fun.” I tensed at her words but she didn’t sound snarky. In fact, I’d swear a wistful expression crossed over her face. What was certain was the brief glance she turned on Rohan.
Ah.
Rohan saw it too. His expression softened. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed it, Lils.” He took her hands in his. “Besides, I want to hang out where we can talk. I miss that.”
I dug my nails into my palms. I’d forgotten that coming off E always left me emotionally wide-open. “I’m off. Have a good night.”
“Sleep well, Lolita,” Lily called out.
I was really starting to hate that name. At least I’d gotten better about not looking back, though that left me making eye contact with that darling desk clerk as I made my way to the elevator. Any pretense of professionalism was beyond him. He scowled at me like I was a plague who’d infested his pristine realm. I’m sure we were both wondering what twist of fate made him present for all my best moments. Sighing, I kept my head held high the entire time it took for the world’s slowest elevator to get to the lobby and then crawl up to the third floor. Just because I was alone in the elevator didn’t mean I didn’t have my pride.
I stepped out to find Rohan waiting for me by the stairwell door. Doing my best not to slump in exhaustion, I stomped past him, the carpet scratchy underfoot.
Rohan’s arm shot out to the wall, blocking me. The two of us faced in different directions. How apt.
“Move,” I said
He didn’t budge.
I stared resolutely ahead.
Finally he dropped his arm.
I pulled my keycard from my coat, walking directly to my room. No passing go. No collecting $200.
“Don’t leave.” He spoke quietly but in the silence of the corridor, I had no trouble hearing him.
My hands balled up. Hadn’t it been enough for one night? That thread between us that had felt so comforting earlier threatened to strangle me now. Anger fueled my turn. I would have welcomed a corresponding anger in him, but the naked longing on his face and the defeat in the slope of his shoulders undid me. That and his sincere, “I love watching you dance.”
The hallway was empty but it suddenly felt hard to breathe.
He held out a hand.
I leaned back. The magnetic push/pull between us demanded a certain distance, a certain resistance, as much as attraction. Wrung out on every level, I couldn’t afford to let Mr. Force-of-Nature Mitra take advantage of my weakened boundaries to redefine our hook-ups into whatever vision he had of them.
The air conditioning kicked in and I wrapped my arms around myself.
“When you see my shower, you’ll thank me.” He scrunched up his face, a lock of hair falling boyishly over his eyes. “Nothing happens. Just sleep.”
I wasn’t sure if that sweetened the offer or not, but I nodded.
We rode in silence up to his floor. A hushed bubble that continued to encapsulate us as we entered his dark suite. Rohan snapped on a light, dimming the brightness down to a more tolerable level. “Want me to start the shower?”
I reached around to the back of my dress and tugged on the zipper. It didn’t budge. I grasped the fabric on either side with one hand and tried again. “Help.”
He stood behind me. Not touching me at first.
My heart hammered in my throat. I lifted my hair off my neck.
He rested his hands on my dress but it was only to try the zipper. “How attached are you to this?” He ran a finger between the top and my skin. “I might have to rip it.”
I swallowed. “Do what you need to.” One of his finger blades pressed against me through the thin cloth and then the dress fell open as he cut the zipper away. Tiny goosebumps dotted my skin, cool air rushing against my back. My sweat had gotten to the clammy stage and I really wanted that shower. Really wanted to sleep.
Neither desire was enough to get me moving, my every nerve tensed in anticipation. The yawning nothing that happened as we both stood there was a much better incentive. I dropped my hair, twisting around. “Thanks.”
Rohan gripped my hips, keeping me still. With the lightest touch, he hooked his fingers under my straps, sliding them off my shoulders.
My lids shivered closed, my heart practically straining out of my chest waiting for his next move, but there was just the feel of his hands clasping my forearms and his warm exhalations against the back of my neck.
“I’ll run the shower.” His voice was strained, shaky, but by the time I caught his arm, he was back to his usual level of control.
I let go. “Make it hot.”
I stepped out of my dress and under the spray. Another outfit ruined. Oh, well. I sighed in bliss, letting the heat ease my sore muscles. I must have stayed under the water for a good half hour. It took a while to wash the body paint off. Longer than that for my head to clear.
Clean and wrinkled, I stepped onto the bath mat with shaking legs, wrapping a towel around me. Either steam now choked the room or the remnants of the E in my system had turned the world hazy. Spying Rohan’s cologne on the counter next to his black toiletries bag, I cracked the cap and sniffed it.
Rohan rapped on the door and I hastily and silently slid the bottle back where I’d found it.
“Do you want a robe?” he asked.
Yes, since I had nothing else to wear right now. I cracked the door, taking the fluffy terry cloth robe from him. I tightened the belt so it was the cloth, and not Rohan’s presence wrapped around me, then I stepped into the adjoining bedroom in a billowing cloud of steam, my damp towel in hand. “Should I leave this in the bathroom?”
Rohan had stripped down to boxer shorts and a clean T-shirt. He took the towel from me, going into the bathroom to toss it on the counter. When he returned, he held a dry towel. “Sit.” He motioned to the bed. The king-sized bed. Thick and plush, it was piled with cozy blankets, long pillows, and an obscene thread count that I itched to mess up.
I sat down on the edge, smoothing a hand over the pillowcase.
Rohan nudged me into the middle of the mattress then sat down behind me and proceeded to dry my hair. He twisted strands between the towel folds, gently yet briskly drawing off excess moisture. His ministrations slowed, his fingertips massaging my scalp.
I pressed backward into his palms. My hands rested on his calves, his legs splayed out on either side of me. The light dusting of his calf hair was scratchy under my fingers. “How come you never mentioned you provided this service?”
“It’s only available to a select clientele,” he joked.
Like Lily? “We chosen few appreciate it.” I yawned.
“You should crash.”
“Do you want me to take the couch?”
“No.” He stood up. “I have a few ideas I want to work on.”
Didn’t have to tell me twice. Still in the robe, I crawled under the covers, half-asleep by the time my head hit the pillow. Out in the living room, Rohan played a soft melody on the piano. It was quiet enough that I had to concentrate to hear it, eyes closed, a caress that lulled me all the way into sleep.
I woke up groggily to find myself laying half on top of him, our legs tangled up together. No light peeked around the curtains yet, the world still slumbering around us. My hand rested on his stomach where his shirt had ridden up to expose a warm strip of skin.
I tensed. He was supposed to stay at the piano. Nap on the couch. Not be here. I didn’t sleep with guys. Not even after sex. If I wanted to cuddle, I had my pillow. I pulled myself free, needing to kill this incredible intimacy because this type of feels were not part of the fucking deal.
“Stay,” he mumbled.
I flung the covers back. I knew where that was coming from. Any body would do at this time of night and I was the closest one. If you can’t be with the one you love… Not finishing that. “Because you want company.”
I swung my feet onto the floor.
He snagged the back of my robe. “Because I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”
Rohan let go of me but I didn’t move, my head bowed. No one wanted that. It was the reason humans huddled around a flickering fire, pressed close to keep the shadows at bay. But you didn’t voice it. You said, “Because you’re warm.” Because any one of a million excuses that didn’t expose your vulnerability.
Rohan never exposed his, so what was this? Another game? Except, that wasn’t right. He’d bared his soul to me when he’d admitted that cutting off his music had been denying an essential part of himself. It’s why I’d pushed so hard for him to write the theme song.
I had no idea if I wanted to stay or to run away as far as I could. A simple repeat fuck had gotten tangled up and crazy complicated. Icy panic clawed at my throat at what that meant or what I wanted it to mean or hoped it didn’t mean.
“Stop thinking.” He loosely laced his fingers through mine, but it was clearly my call to stay or go.
I glanced back at him. Big mistake.
Rohan watched me intently, his expression soft and open. His eyes begging me to stay.
Each heartbeat pulsed along my skin from my chest to the top of my head. I forced an exhale, my hand tightening on his.
He tugged me into his side, tucking the covers around us, his head resting on mine. My remaining tension melted away under the steady comfort of his touch.
I snuggled closer. Because you’re warm.
Chapter 13
The clock showed mid-afternoon by the time I woke up for good. Alone. I rolled over onto Rohan’s side of the bed, pressing my face into his pillow. Even the faint trace of his unique scent smelled better than dark chocolate, clean grass after a heavy rain, or the woodsy musk in the air after two of you have come your brains out. Was it wrong of me to relish this intensely intimate access to him? Or only wrong of me to wonder who else was in this club?
Sitting up with a stretch, I raked my fingers through my curls, tumbling loose on my shoulders, trying to comb them into some sort of style. Then I retied the belt on my robe, and padded out of the bedroom in search of some coffee. I hoped a caffeine jolt would help with my lingering confusion about whatever was going on between Rohan and me.
I followed the sound of music, stopping in the doorway to drink in the sight of Rohan at the piano, head bent, his hair falling into his eyes, fully focused on the keyboard. His white T-shirt was so worn I glimpsed his brown skin through the sheer patches. My fingers twitched, longing to feel the play of hard muscle under soft fabric. “Good morning.”
The soft look he gave me was immediately wiped away in favor of a shark-like smile. My heart sped up, thinking this was a prelude to a very good morning.
“Afternoon, actually.”
So much for my second chance. I didn’t react to the judgment in Samson’s voice but any fond thoughts about Rohan fled. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d planned last night to maneuver me here to be found by Samson now.
“I didn’t realize you boys had a play date today.” I stretched, making sure my robe gaped open enough to flash Samson a bit of boob, then swiped the coffee mug from Samson’s hand as I sat down next to him. Thigh to thigh.
A wrong note sounded from the piano. Not sure whose smirk was bigger at that, Samson’s or mine. I suffered zero delusions that Samson’s cocky glee was about my unique charms. It had everything to do with Rohan and whatever made Samson despise him. But I’d use anything I could to my advantage.
I crossed my legs, my robe riding up to the border of peep show territory. “You’re looking good after our late night.” He was charmingly rumpled.
Samson ignored my compliment. “Enjoy your sleepover?”
Damage control. With compliments and physical contact both failures I selected and discarded a dozen ways to regain his good graces. No way was I going to be sidelined from this mission.
“She did,” Rohan piped up over his playing. “I have a more comfortable bed and Lolita does like her comfort.”
I swallowed my sour mouthful of coffee. “But it’s morning now. A brand new day.”
The barest flash of hurt crossed Rohan’s face before he glanced down, testing out a chord. I had no idea if it was real or put on for the sake of the mission but either way, I had to stay in character. Being Rasha came before any irrational desire to spare Rohan’s feelings.
“Tell me about your film.” I pressed the coffee mug back into Samson’s hands, letting my own linger for a moment. “I’d love to come watch you on set. If you’ll have me.”
“I’m shooting in Český Krumlov the next couple days,” Samson said. “Then back here Tuesday for the final day.”
“We could work on the tracks after that,” Rohan said.
I gripped Samson’s thigh. “You’re going to sing on the theme song? That will make it epic.”
He studied me for a long moment. “You could come Tuesday to watch the big chase scene.”
Finally, a freaking bone.
Rohan’s song turned from a major to a minor key. I shivered at the darkness that seemed to drive it, but I wasn’t stupid enough to take my focus off of Samson. “Hot boys and fast cars? Big yes. Is there going to be a wrap party?”
“That night,” Samson said.
I leaned in, my boobs front and center. “What does a girl have to do to get an invite?”
Rohan snorted.
We both looked at him, me to will him to quit disrupting my flow, and Samson to, well, who knew what was in his head.
Rohan seemed to have lost interest in our conversation, erasing something on the sheet music. That placated Samson who didn’t notice that Snowflake white-knuckled the pencil.
I trailed my fingers up Samson’s arm. “I’d love to help you celebrate wrapping.”
Samson broke into a slow smile. “That could be arranged.”
I relaxed.
“I’m performing,” Rohan said.
Count me in. Though I shrugged as if it didn’t matter, conscious of Samson monitoring my reaction.
Samson raised his eyebrows. “Accepted Forrest’s invitation, did you?”
“Give the cast and crew a tease of the theme song. Seemed like a no-brainer.”
I allowed myself a second to enjoy the excitement that my conjurings of an on-stage Snowflake brought on, then stood up, using Samson’s shoulder for balance. If he got a final cheap thrill, all the better. “I need to get dressed.”
“Your clothes are in the bedroom,” Rohan said.
I stumbled at his words. Had he moved me in? I hustled into his bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief that he’d only brought me up clothes for today. The dress pants and blouse weren’t something I’d have worn around Samson normally. Maybe Rohan didn’t plan this? Wondering would make me crazy. I slipped into my clothes and the shoes he’d brought. He’d thoughtfully fetched some make-up, too. I needed the mask.
I strolled into the living room, armor in place. “Will you text me later?” Asking not demanding since demon or psychopath, Samson would respond better to being accorded the position of power. “Tuesday is much too far away for further conversations in taste-making.”
Samson scratched his head. “Now see, I remember it as further conversations in tasting.”
“Lucky for you, I’m rather fluent in tasting.”
“I’m quite the linguist myself.” He grinned at me and I squirmed like a cat trying to coat its
elf in a pool of sunshine.
“Don’t want to keep you from anything, Lolita,” Rohan said.
I dragged my eyes back to his, having forgotten he was in the room. “Right. Stuff to do.” Okay, that came out breathier than I intended, but damn.
Samson chuckled softly.
I picked up my coat. “What are you up to?” I asked Rohan.
He tapped his sheet music. “I need to work for a few hours.” Perfect. I’d fill him in on Samson’s black sun tattoo later.
“Bye, boys. Have fun.” I shot Rohan a behave look. He busied himself with his music but a half-grin ghosted over his lips.
I escaped before I embarrassed myself, nodding at the bodyguard planted outside Rohan’s room and recognizing him as one of Samson’s men on duty last night.
Intent on checking my email to see if Dr. Gelman had replied, I headed for the elevator. Both missions–Ari and Samson–had to be completed before we flew home. If Samson wrapped in a few days, that meant the clock had begun to tick in earnest.
Back in my room, I checked my phone to find that she had in fact emailed back. She’d invited me to meet her for breakfast at Café Louvre on Monday morning. I fired off a fast RSVP, then opened the email from Leo entitled “ARE YOU KIDDING?”
The first link contained tabloid photos of me and Samson dancing. His head was thrown back with a wild grin and my hair splayed out in all directions like an open fan. The headline read “Samson King tears it up with Mystery Brunette.” I scanned the captions, but none of them identified me by name.
Yet.
I twisted my ring around, running through the ramifications of the media exposure, and therefore Samson finding out my real name. Even if he already knew there was a female Rasha, he wouldn’t connect my name to that person. The Brotherhood kept our identities carefully guarded. Same for any personal information, which I’d hope would keep Ari and my parents out of Samson’s reach should he prove a demon. The chances of history repeating itself and Samson going after my brother like Asmodeus had done were slim. Though that didn’t mean I wouldn’t put a back-up plan in place, just in case.
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 40
