I was more than comfortable.
Comfortable enough to start dirty dancing with Seth Brothers. If he wanted to.
The odd thing about that was, Seth wasn’t rubbing up on me. He was very pointedly keeping his hands—and everything else—to himself.
It was so beyond my frame of reference, I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. I was used to dancing as a form of foreplay. A pick-up ritual.
Seth was not trying to pick me up.
He was just dancing with me.
I’d always found it incredibly sexy when a man could dance… and Seth Brothers could always dance. I’d kinda forgotten that about him. Maybe I’d forgotten a lot of things, in the end.
Maybe I’d wanted to forget, so I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty.
But as we worked up a sweat on that dance floor, and he eventually did touch me, swinging me around and even rocking with me, slowly, his hips brushing—just barely—against mine, it all came back to me in a rush.
I used to dance with Seth a lot. Mainly because the other guys in the band didn’t dance. Dylan had two left feet on a dance floor, Zane just wasn’t that into dancing, and Jesse… well, Jesse pretty much preferred to watch.
So I would find myself dancing with Seth at parties and bars when we hung out, because I liked having a man to dance with. Someone who was really good at it, but who I didn’t have to worry was gonna grope me. So I could just be free to lose myself in the music.
Though I never really thought to wonder, until now, why Seth would always dance with me.
I just assumed he loved to dance.
He’d touched me, sometimes, while we were dancing—to spin me around or dip me when we were goofing off, or lead me deeper into the crowd, or whatever. But that was it. He’d never even tried to grope me back then.
Just like he didn’t tonight.
But back then, it didn’t bother me that Seth didn’t try to grope me. The possibility of being groped by Seth just wasn’t on my radar. Maybe it was just me being a slightly naive nineteen-year-old, but I really didn’t think it had occurred to him to be interested in me that way.
Or maybe it just hadn’t occurred to me that he might be.
Back then, it hadn’t occurred to me to try to grope him, either.
Why not?
I had that question stuck in my mind as I danced with Seth now. As I watched his hooded, smoky eyes… the way they moved over me. The way he watched me dance, like he was kinda trying not to. Like he couldn’t resist watching.
Then I remembered.
Because he was a junkie.
And even if he wasn’t… I had that pesky little rule about not getting involved with my bandmates. A rule that, admittedly, Zane had butted up against more than once when we were teenagers and didn’t yet know each other well. When he’d tried to hit that—and failed. But Zane had never been as respectful about such things as Seth.
And then, of course, there was Jesse.
I’d had a crush on Jesse Mayes since pretty much day one. But the same rule I applied to Zane, and Seth, and Dylan, had to apply to Jesse. Until it didn’t… and two years ago, I jumped off that cliff with him.
Bottoming out on that, alone—after Jesse dumped me—hardly felt worth it now.
Would it be worth it in the morning if I jumped Seth Brothers tonight?
My cocktail-buzzed mind had no answer to that.
So we danced and we danced… and then, eventually, we went back to the house and I went to bed.
Alone.
Chapter Fourteen
Seth
I had no idea what to make of it.
I flopped, naked, on my bed in the guest cottage. The lights were off, but there were lanterns hanging on the little patio outside, casting a glow. Everyone else had gone to bed a while ago, but I’d sat up, out there in the dark, just thinking. Unable to sleep.
Unable to decode the messages Elle was sending.
Officially, my discord with Dirty was no longer the main cause of my unease.
It was Elle.
Maybe I’d never really been able to read her. Maybe I’d never been all that great at understanding women at all… but I knew when a woman wanted me.
Elle, I could not understand.
Why she was being so cool to me.
Why she’d danced with me tonight, like… like she was attracted to me.
But maybe it was just dancing?
Maybe she was just having fun, and got a little carried away when her hands slid south of my hips and landed on my ass.
Maybe she didn’t realize her pussy kept rubbing up against my thigh as she semi-dry-humped me, that I could feel her warm softness through the thin fabric of my pants.
Maybe she didn’t feel my raging hard-on when she pressed herself up against me during that last slow song.
I had no fucking idea. For all I knew, maybe she was just drunk.
Maybe she really was lonely and none of what happened tonight was even about me.
Maybe that was how she danced with every guy these days, and it meant nothing at all.
Worse… maybe she saw me like she’d always seen Dylan—as a platonic male friend, one she could trust not to feel her up the first chance he got.
Or maybe she was just trying really, really hard to make amends for the past and rebuild the friendship we’d once had. If that was the case, I was not gonna piss all over her efforts like a fucking idiot by making a move on her.
I’d be lucky to count Elle as a friend.
The last thing I needed was for her to decide she’d made a giant mistake bringing me here because I’d started thinking with my dick. Because there was no way that was what she wanted. I was pretty fucking sure about that.
Though I really wasn’t sure about much else.
Sometimes when she looked at me… I couldn’t have guessed what she was thinking to save my life.
I did not remember her like this. So… guarded. So measured in everything she did. Carefully choosing her words and her facial expressions. The way she held herself, like a woman who was far too accustomed to having the world watch—and judge—her every move.
When she was younger, she was much more carefree. Like she was tonight.
But then again, maybe I just didn’t remember things right.
I could not remember ever being confused about Elle’s intentions back then—about what she thought of me or how she felt about me.
I could not remember ever thinking I might have any sort of chance with her.
From the beginning, it had been clear to me I had no chance whatsoever with Elle. Elle Delacroix was off-limits. Zane had told me as much the very day I met him, before he introduced me to the band. That was one of the ground rules.
Number one: Jesse is lead guitar.
Number two: You don’t disrespect Dolly. That was Zane’s grandma, who let the band practice in her garage.
And number three: No one fucks around with Elle.
I didn’t have any problem with those rules, even after I met Elle. It wasn’t as if I was the only one who noticed how pretty she was; everyone seemed to be crushing on her back then. Everyone, oddly, but Jesse. So it hardly seemed to matter. She had a boyfriend when I met her anyway. And she wasn’t interested in me; not that I ever knew of.
So she was off-limits for several reasons.
Over the years, that list of reasons had only grown longer.
But tonight… dancing with her at that bar… the limits had seemed to evaporate.
Why?
Because she wanted me seemed like far too much of a stretch of the imagination.
Wishful fucking thinking.
And yet… I had been wishing it. Thinking about it…
Elle, slithering up against me, her hands roaming over my body as we danced… sliding downward… and the crowd dissolving around us, so we were alone. Alone and our bodies pressed together, for the first time, ever.
And my hands, moving over her body… drifting up her slende
r curves… her bare neck… over her face. Touching her mouth…
Jesus.
She was so fucking gorgeous. It wasn’t exactly making this easier. Things were already hard enough. I wanted back in the band so bad I could taste it. So bad, it kept me up at night.
And now I wanted Elle.
Just as badly.
No. Actually… there were moments, like when she took hold of my hands at the photo shoot this morning… when she wrapped herself around me tonight and I felt her heat, and I smelled her warm, coconuty smell… when she pressed in close to talk to me over the music and I could almost taste her soft lips… I probably would’ve told every other member of Dirty to go fuck themselves if that’s what it took to get her naked.
I knew there wasn’t much blood left in my head right now, so my capacity for making solid decisions was kinda out the window, but if I could take Elle to bed… If she wanted me, right now, in her bed… I’d probably give it all up. Any chance of ever getting Dirty back.
Because if I slept with Elle, I did not see that happening.
Bad enough she’d already had a relationship with Jesse, and a breakup. Bad enough they all fucking hated me. Me, having sex with Elle, was hardly gonna lessen the drama with the band.
And still… it was all I could think about.
Elle. Naked.
After seeing her in that bikini, I could too easily picture her that way. Her smooth, tanned skin. Her slender, toned legs.
Her rosy nipples, in my mouth…
Fuck…
What would she sound like if I fucked her? If I was inside her…?
Would she gasp? Would she pant? Would she scream?
Would she shove me on my back and take the lead?
Would she want me to lead?
Would she want it hard? Or slow and easy…?
I had no idea… but I was imagining it all now. Curious… I was so fucking curious about her. My cock was aching with curiosity.
I grabbed it now; I was rock-hard. Sprawled on top of the sheets, the warm ocean air from the open window breezed over me. Elle was up there, in the house, and I started jerking myself off, thinking about her in her bed.
Just like I used to.
I stroked my hand along my hard length, up and down, slowly, and rolled my palm over the head.
Then I groaned and slowed my hand.
What the hell was I doing?
I stopped and took a breath. I tucked my hands behind my head and tried to think about something else as my cock pulsed. I closed my eyes and listened to the distant, almost musical rhythm of the waves. The chirp and twitch of insects in the trees.
It was wrong, jerking off here. I was a guest. Just seemed like an asshole thing to do.
But the damage had already been done…
All the blood in my brain had fled south, and my dick was throbbing almost painfully. My balls ached. No matter how I tried to change the direction of my thoughts, my cock won the argument.
So maybe I was an asshole.
I got up and went outside. Closed myself into the outdoor shower in the dark. I got the water running warm and stood under it, tried to catch my breath and calm down. I was so wound up, I was practically panting.
Shit. I so wanted her…
My hand was on my dick again, and it was all over. I had to come.
Badly.
It was probably better that I do this anyway, so I could think straight when I saw Elle tomorrow.
Maybe…
Because as the hours passed, I’d become increasingly unable to think of much at all besides her tanned skin, her gray eyes, her hesitant smile. And her tight, heart-shaped ass. Her firm tits. Her nipples… The rosy-pink color of them, glimpsed through the holes in her bikini.
And the glimpse of that bare pink pussy between her legs…
I came, hard, clutching the overhead faucet so I wouldn’t slip and fall on the wet stone floor; the explosion, white-hot, tore through me, and I clenched my teeth to stifle the groan.
In my head I was coming on her, in that bikini, and she was loving it… grabbing my cock to lick it off, lapping up my come…
Fuck. Me.
I wanted Elle.
I shuddered and collapsed against the shower wall.
I wanted her on her knees, sucking me off.
I wanted her bent over, ass in the air, taking my cock up that bare pink pussy.
I wanted her screaming on her back, begging me for more.
And as I came down from the intensity of that orgasm, the blood slowly returning to my brain… I wanted her to kiss me.
I knew it was self-destructive. The last thing I should want, if I had any hope of getting back the one thing I’d always wanted.
But I didn’t care…
I wanted her soft, swollen lips to brush against mine, and her tongue to fill my mouth.
I wanted to taste her.
I wanted those steel-gray eyes looking up at me, and I wanted her smiling.
I wanted her whispering my name against my skin.
Seth…
I wanted her… and I wanted her to want me.
Chapter Fifteen
Elle
In the middle of the night, Summer called. Actually, it was almost morning where she was, in Vancouver, but Summer was a nocturnal creature. I could hear music and voices—a lot of them—in the background.
Lucky for her, I was wide awake. I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d just been lying here on the bed, my head throbbing with the memory of Hawaiian music and Seth’s body grinding up against mine.
“You okay?” was the first thing she said to me.
Though I doubted she could hear me when I answered, “Where the hell are you?”
The noise dimmed as she shut herself into some room where she could hear me. “You broke up with Ash?”
I sighed, but I doubted she heard that, either. “We were never really together, Summer. You’re having a party?”
“I know you weren’t. But judging by the trail of empties he’s leaving on my carpet, he obviously thought so. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And yeah, I’m having a party. You know. It’s a Sunday.”
That was typical. It’s a Wednesday. It’s a Monday. It’s my quarter-birthday. Summer never needed an actual reason to celebrate.
“So are you okay or what?” she pressed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you never answered me on that.”
“No,” I told her. “I’m not okay. And everyone asking me if I’m okay just makes me feel less okay.”
“I know. I know you hate everyone worrying about you. But shit, bitch… What’s going on with Seth?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you fucking him?” Leave it to Summer to cut right to the chase. “That’s what everyone wants to know. I just have the balls to ask.”
“I’m not talking to everyone,” I said. “I’m talking to you.”
“I know that, babe. It’s a figure of speech. Have you seen his dick yet?”
“Is that another figure of speech?” I asked dryly.
“No. It’s a question.”
“I’m not fucking him.”
“Maybe you should be. Everyone’s gonna think it anyway. It’s all over the worldwide web. You might as well have some fucking fun.”
“If his dick’s in the guest cottage and my pussy’s over here,” I said, “I don’t see that happening.”
“Please. He’s not gonna kick you out of bed, Elle.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I saw those pictures of the two of you, on the beach.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Plus, you know. You’re super hot?”
“Why are you so keen to get me laid?”
“Because I’m always keen to get you laid.”
That much was true. It had almost killed her that it took me nearly a year after Jesse to screw anyone.
“Look,” she said. “If you’re done with Ash, just please don’t take a fuckin
g year to line up your next piece of ass. Better yet, find several. You should have an entire fucking cocksquad at your disposal. You’re a rock star, for Christ’s sake. Time to start acting like one.”
Right; Summer had been on me to “slut it up like a rock star” as long as I’d known her.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, just like I had many, many times. “I’m just a one-cock-at-a-time girl.”
“Then find one and make it your bitch. And by the way, I do not wanna hear about the time you could’ve screwed Seth Brothers in Hawaii but didn’t and now you regret it, for like, the next year of my life.”
“You won’t.”
“Babe. It’s me. I know how you obsess about these things.”
“I do not.”
“Babe.”
Fuck. She knew me too well.
I’d totally been lying here obsessing when she called.
“I didn’t obsess about Ash,” I said in my defense.
“That’s true. Which was how I knew you weren’t gonna keep him around for long.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did.”
“Ugh. I’m sorry…”
I rolled over, and the room rocked woozily around me. I groaned. I’d definitely had too many of those fruity cocktails; I was gonna feel it in the morning. I fucking hated hangovers. Couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had one.
Yes, actually… I could. It was the morning after Jesse broke up with me. Worst hangover ever. Nothing to make you feel like someone had just flushed your heart down the toilet like having your head in one for an entire day.
“We should really be having this conversation in person,” I told her. “I know you care about Ash…”
“And so do you. That doesn’t mean either of us should feel guilty because we’re not in love with him.”
I sighed again. Relieved that she understood me so well, and that she wasn’t upset about any of this. “I think I’m in love with you right now.”
“Get on a plane,” she said. “I’ll show you a good time.”
I laughed, but it came out as a hiccup. “I’m gonna get some sleep, okay? Or try to. I haven’t been sleeping much. This shit with Ash, and with the band…”
Dirty Like Seth: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 3) Page 14
