Dirty Like Me

by Jaine Diamond

  His dark eyes flickered up to mine. “Also like to look at beautiful women.”

  There was that word again.

  Beautiful.

  I’d tried to let it roll off the first few times, but since he kept using it, I had to wonder. I watched his gaze sweep down to the hemline of my dress, which had crept up my thigh when I crossed my legs. Seriously. Jesse Mayes thought I, Katie Bloom, former skater kid and glasses-wearing wannabe artist, was beautiful?

  It wasn’t like he was the first guy to ever say it, but come on. Jesse Mayes? The man was beauty incarnate. Did he not own a mirror? How could anyone look at that face on a daily basis and use the word beautiful to describe me?

  It must’ve been the plunging neckline of my sexy dress messing with his whiskey-addled mind.

  He set down his drink and placed his hand on my bare knee, his fingers cool from gripping the glass. Sipping my drink, I glanced around at the faces of the band and crew. I kinda felt like we were on a tiny stage here on the couch, like everyone was waiting for some kind of performance to begin. But to my relief, they weren’t actually watching us.

  Jesse, though, was definitely watching me.

  “Um, tell me something,” I said, looking to distract myself from the hand on my knee and the smoldering look in Jesse’s eyes that at this late hour, in this crazy club lighting, looked a hell of a lot like lust. “Did I get someone fired tonight?”

  He stared at me, smoothing his thumb back and forth across my thigh. “Like who?”

  “You know who. The roadie who asked me for a blowjob.”

  “No, Katie. You didn’t get anyone fired.”

  “But you did fire him?” I pressed, reading between the lines of that response.

  His hand left my knee as he picked up his drink. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “Then you’re not gonna tell me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Katie. They won’t bother you again.”

  They? Oh, man. He fired them both.

  I’d been wondering since Jesse came off stage. After the show wrapped up, he’d showered and we’d set out with some of the crew to hit the club. There were a ton of people still working at the venue when we rolled out, tearing down the stage, but I didn’t see either of those roadies who propositioned me anywhere.

  “Promised you my crew would look out for you while we’re on the road. You feel safe going to those guys for help, sugar?”

  “Well, no.”

  His jaw clenched, the same way it did backstage when I told him what that roadie said to me. He downed his drink, set the glass aside and reached for me, cupping my face. Then he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. I didn’t move. I was pretty sure I stopped breathing. His lips were hot, velvety and tasted of bourbon. His mouth lingered over mine when he said, “Assholes had to go. Not your fault.” His lips dragged against mine again, hot, soft. His bottom lip caught on mine and for an instant the wet of the inside of his lip touched mine.

  My pulse rammed through my body as he drew back, my breath coming shallow and fast as I licked the taste of Jesse Mayes from my lips. “Um, I just thought… maybe you could give them another chance.”

  I watched as he took another round of drinks, delivered by a pretty cocktail waitress. She smiled at Jesse, her white teeth gleaming against her tan skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. He never took his eyes off me.

  I took the drink he offered and reminded myself that I wasn’t getting drunk tonight, for good reason. My pulse was already slamming between my legs, Jesse’s nearness and that fierce, protective look on his face doing crazy things to my brain.

  “I mean, they didn’t do anything,” I went on. “They just propositioned me. That must happen all the time at rock concerts.”

  “Don’t give a fuck,” he said. “They propositioned you.”

  Right. And I was Jesse Mayes’ girl… as far as everyone knew.

  I watched in what felt like surreal slow-motion as his hand went to my knee again, this time smoothing right on upward. I could feel the guitar string callouses on his fingers, the slight roughness making me shiver. His gaze flicked to mine as his hand continued up beneath the hem of my dress. He gripped my thigh, his fingers digging into me as he drew my knee up onto his lap. His gaze caught on my lips and I almost choked on my nerves. Then he leaned in and kissed me again.

  This time, it wasn’t just a brush of his lips against mine. He nudged my mouth open and lapped his tongue against mine in a long, firm stroke, then sucked my bottom lip into his mouth before breaking away.

  I knew I was blushing but at least in the near-dark it would be hard to see. What wouldn’t be so hard to see were my eyes practically rolling back in my head when he pressed a kiss to my throat, just under my jaw. Then he lounged back, retrieving his drink from the table for a sip. He was still watching me, assessing me with his now-hooded molten eyes.

  I sipped my drink, the booze and Jesse Mayes making me feel warm all over.

  Too warm.

  How the hell did I think I was getting through six weeks of this?

  I would’ve squeezed my thighs together in an effort to get a little more comfortable and contain my rising excitement, but my knee was still drawn up over Jesse’s thigh. Right about now, I could understand why Devi advised me to pack my vibrator. I’d laughed, but didn’t pack it. Now, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. If this was my life for the next six weeks, I’d definitely need something to take the edge off.

  I sipped my drink again, trying to get my breathing under control, trying to keep from going all lust-faced with desire. According to Devi, I got “sex face” anytime I thought about getting it on, and right now, I couldn’t think about much else.

  “So… what is it we’re doing here, exactly?” I asked when Jesse remained silent. “You know, me, you, hanging in a club?”

  “We’re making out.” His mouth twitched in amusement. Then he licked his bottom lip, slowly, and said, “You taste like sunshine.”

  I burst out laughing, partly because I was nervous, but partly because WTF? “What the hell does sunshine taste like?”

  He grinned slowly. “Like Katie Bloom and that girlie shit you drink.”

  I couldn’t remove the stupid grin from my face if I tried.

  “What we’re doing,” he said, and sipped his bourbon, “is being seen.” Then his gaze left me as he looked out over the dance floor.

  Right.

  Being seen.

  When Brody nudged Jesse’s shoulder and started talking in his ear, I breathed a small sigh of relief as he turned away. The guy was intense. The way he touched me, the way he looked at me, turned me into a flustered mess.

  I pressed my cocktail glass to my chest and rolled it between my breasts, trying to calm the fuck down, but my heartbeat practically rattled the ice in the glass. The guy was making my head spin. But I was prepared for this. I knew it was all for show. I couldn’t let it floor me every time he touched me.

  No matter how good it felt.

  No matter how much I really wanted him to keep touching me.

  Because every time he touched me, it was in public, and it was for a reason. And the reason wasn’t to make me feel good. It wasn’t even because he wanted to touch me.

  It was to be seen touching me.

  The lines of New Girl repeated in my head. He’d made a very public declaration of love to me tonight with that song, and now here we were, officially together, in public. Our relationship was out there. Our lie. And everything we did from this night on was meant to back it up. I was here for one reason: to help him sell that lie, to make it look real. I was being paid a hell of a lot of money to make it look real.

  Jesse was playing his part, and he was playing it well.

  What else said I own this piece of ass like sticking his hand up my dress in the middle of a crowded club, or firing his staff because they hit on me? Or making me pant like a bitch in heat every time he kissed me?

  He was staking his claim over me
, publicly, and I needed to get used to it, fast. This was only the beginning. I’d signed on for six weeks of this.

  And it meant absolutely nothing.

  I took a swig of my drink, the voice of reason in the back of my head reminding me to slow the fuck down.

  Jesse was still talking to Brody. He squeezed my thigh a little when I shifted, but he didn’t let go. In fact, his grip had migrated subtly northward, which was messing with my brain. I had no idea if he was jacking me up on purpose. Did he have any idea how much he was turning me on? Or did he just think I was a really great actor, like he was?

  Like I’d been in the video?

  Except I wasn’t really acting in the video. I was just being hot for Jesse Mayes, for real. I’d let things go as far as he took them, more or less. And now the question I’d been asking myself since I’d agreed to come on tour with him circled in my brain. I felt it beating in the rhythm of his pulse, in his hand on my thigh.

  How far would I let this go? How far would I go for two hundred grand?

  How far would I go for Jesse Mayes?

  This far, I told myself, glancing at his hold on my thigh, the edge of his sexy wrist tattoo disappearing beneath my dress. This far and no fucking farther.

  I took a peek at my phone, looking for some respite, and found a text from Devi. It was about the hundredth time she’d checked on me today. So far I’d answered each text by sending her a pic of whatever was going on around me, but I decided not to send her a pic of Jesse’s hand on my thigh. Instead, I panic-texted her back. What the fuck was I thinking?

  Seconds later, her response came in. OMG are you okay??

  I’m sitting in a club with Jesse, I texted her. His hand is up my dress.

  Devi’s response was again immediate. I repeat, are you okay??

  Ask me tomorrow.

  Get out your vibrator and calm the F down. You can’t sleep with him on day 1.

  Sage advice from a woman who’d never owned a vibrator because “Why would I get it on with a hunk of plastic when I can get it on with a hunk?”

  Didn’t bring it. I sent that text and stashed my phone away; Jesse had turned back to me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  He said nothing. His gaze swept down over my face, my dress, his hella long, dark eyelashes masking his eyes. And just when I thought I was in danger of getting good and groped, he withdrew his hand from under my dress and skimmed it up my waist instead. His knuckles brushed my breast. My nipple hardened, tingling inside my bra as he lay his hand on my neck.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked. Which was kind of sweet but strange, since he’d already kissed me, without asking.

  I nodded a little, unable to wrangle any words.

  My lips parted just before he crushed his lips to mine, and then I knew why he’d asked.

  This was nothing like those other kisses.

  He shifted closer to me, tipping my head back to meet him, and delved deep. His hand slid into my hair, holding me to him as he devoured me. Slowly.

  The club music vibrated through us but the club was gone. There was nothing but me and Jesse in the thudding dark, melting into one another.

  I kept up with the slow, mind-melting pace of his deep kisses. I even remembered to breathe each time he pulled away to kiss my face or my neck. I sipped my drink while he kissed my ear, just chilling with my fake boyfriend, having a slow, easy make out in a club like it was no big deal, even as the shivers ran up and down my spine. My breasts ached and swelled. My clit pulsed and begged for attention. I just kept telling myself that we were being seen, that it wasn’t real, as much as my body protested the fact.

  His hand gripped my hair harder and he found my mouth again, kissing me even slower, but deeper still. I swore my heartbeat slowed to match his rhythm, beating deep in my chest, between my legs. My fingers shook as I spread my hand on his chest. My fingernails dug into the hot, soft cotton of his shirt. I swirled my tongue against his until I felt the low vibration of his moan or growl, but I couldn’t hear it in the noise of the club. I let my teeth drag against his lip. I sucked on his tongue. I did everything I’d ever wanted to do to a man’s mouth with my own since I’d hit puberty.

  Because—fuck it. What if the world ended tomorrow and this was my only chance?

  I wasn’t willing to take that risk.

  When we broke apart, he was panting softly. His gaze slid down my dress again. Then he said, “Crazy lighting in this place, kinda looks like you’re naked.”

  I was still recovering from his kisses, but managed to get my head together enough to say, “I thought you didn’t like pink.”

  His dark eyebrows drew together. “You wore this because you thought I wouldn’t like it?”

  “Well... you can buy my time and my faked affection, Mr. Mayes,” I said, still trying to get a hold of my breathing. “But what I put on my body is up to me.”

  His eyes smoldered, darker than I’d ever seen them.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear, so close and so slowly that his breath made me shiver. “I like you in pink.”

  CHAPTER 16

  JESSE

  I was pretty sure I could get used to this.

  All the perks of having a girlfriend, without actually having a girlfriend.

  Well, maybe not all the perks. I had no idea if that particular perk was gonna end up part of the deal. That was up to Katie, because my dick had been good to go pretty much from the first moment I’d met her, standing there in her rain-wet clothes, offering me cherry pie.

  And now, wearing that slinky pink dress, the one that made her look fucking naked as she slithered around in my lap, her soft breasts pressed to my chest, her plump pink lips sliding against mine, that little tongue of hers flicking out to taste me… Christ. I was stiff as a fucking rod. I didn’t care who was looking. I would’ve sucked on her from head to toe, licked that fucking dress right off her if she’d let me.

  By the time we hit the next club and walked into the dimly-lit VIP room, Katie holding my hand as she looked around, I was still trying to adjust my wood in my jeans. I really had to stop looking at her ass every time the girl got walking.

  A couple of dudes at the glowing bar in the corner had turned almost completely around on their stools to look at her in her clingy, skimpy flesh-dress. I tugged her closer, tightening my grip. Couldn’t have her wandering away in that thing.

  “Can we sit over there?” she asked, pointing at an unoccupied love seat.

  “You can sit anywhere you want, darlin’,” Jude answered. Jude had a way of calling women darlin’ that tended to make panties drop, and I didn’t mind that he used it on her. He liked Katie. I liked that he liked her. Jude fucking hated most of the women I dated. He hadn’t said so, but I was pretty sure he thought Katie was adorable, which she was.

  The only thing he had said about her, or about my relationship with her, was, “You sure about this, brother?”

  “She’ll be good for us,” I said, as vaguely as fucking possible. And she was good for us, already. She was helping us sell music. She was keeping us entertained. She was already making this tour more interesting than it would’ve been without her. No question about that.

  But as much as I liked Jude liking her, and it kinda made the egotistical prick in me get a pride hard-on when he looked at her the way he did when she showed up in that dress tonight, I didn’t want him liking her that much.

  Right about now, I was really fucking glad I’d made her agree not to mess around with anyone else. The last thing I needed was for Katie to fall for Jude or anyone else on my crew. I didn’t need that complication.

  Fuck it. That was bullshit. The truth was I didn’t want to share the girl.

  She may be my fake girlfriend, but she was my fucking fake girlfriend.

  I pulled her flush against me and she smiled up at me. Then I laid one on her, kissing her long and deep, giving those fuckers at the bar an eyeful. She stretched up on her toes as I drew her tighter against me. When I let
her go, she stumbled back a little in her high heels, but I held her, steadying her.

  Jude was speaking with the hostess. The room was scattered with low couches, most of which were occupied, but she led us straight to the love seat Katie had pointed out, facing the wall of windows overlooking the dance floor below. I didn’t really care where we sat. Just wanted a break from the madness outside.

  Jude ordered us a bottle and he and Flynn got scarce as Katie and I sank into the low love seat together. The waitress brought over an ice bucket on a stand and a bottle of champagne with two glasses. I poured us both some champagne and noticed Jude turning away a couple of women who wanted to come over. He wouldn’t let anyone get close. I flung my arm up on the back of the seat and relaxed as Katie sank against me. I definitely didn’t mind having her to myself for a while.

  My hand found her bare shoulder, where the dress had slipped off and she hadn’t fixed it. I smoothed my thumb over her bra strap and leaned in closer. I let my lips graze her ear when I said, “You wore the lingerie.”

  She looked at me over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes slightly. Then she lifted her champagne in toast. “To your new tour.”

  I lifted my glass, touching the rim to hers. “And my new girl.”

  My thumb was still stroking her shoulder, playing with the strap of her bra. She rolled her eyes a little. “I like the rhinestones,” she admitted, sipping her champagne. “They’re pretty.”

  “They’re diamonds.”

  Katie choked on her bubbly. “What?” She coughed and sputtered and reached to set her glass on the table by our knees.

  I lounged back on the love seat, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I said, they’re di—”

  “I heard you.” She was already wrestling beneath her dress, taking the bra off, apparently. “I can’t wear diamonds.”

  I just watched the show, amused and a little perplexed, drinking my champagne as she stripped the bra off without removing the dress and yanked it free through an arm hole. “Why the hell not?”

  She tossed the bra at me. “Because the diamond industry is, like, totally evil.”