by Lexi Ryan
“You didn’t tell me you were a rock star,” I murmur.
“You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend,” he counters.
“Come on, Crane,” Asher calls. “It’s time.”
Maggie drags me back to the dressing room, shoves me toward the bar, and wraps herself around Asher. I’m not sure I’m up for watching them grope each other, but I don’t want to rush them either.
The concert was great. No, it was effing amazing. Standing on the side of the stage while watching Nate and Asher perform was the experience of a lifetime.
I’m glad I didn’t let my broken heart keep me at home.
I pour myself a vodka cranberry, deciding that, if she and Asher aren’t unglued by the time I’m done with this, I’ll get my own cab back to the hotel.
When I look up from my drink, Nate Crane is sauntering toward me. He takes my fingertips, lifts them to his lips, and then actually kisses the back of my hand. Who does that? And who the hell knew the gesture could be so sexy?
He’s in no hurry to release me, and I’m in no hurry to ask him to.
“Did you watch the show?” he asks.
“I did.”
“So?”
“So what?” I smile.
He looks almost insecure, like he’s seeking approval for something the world has applauded him for a thousand times over.
“What was your favorite song?”
“I really love ‘Unbreak Me.’” I have to bite back my smile when I name one of Asher’s songs and not one of Nate’s. The truth is that the song that rocked my world, the one that had me sitting at the side of the stage, my jaw slack, and chills racing up my arms, was Nate’s song “Lost in Me.” Tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it. It’s a hit, and they play it on the radio all the time—almost as often as “Unbreak Me”—but tonight was the first time I’ve heard it live. Tonight was the first time I watched Nate’s face as he sang the words, the pain ripping across his features like the lyrics weren’t words but blades digging into his skin.
“I also really liked ‘Unforgiven,’” I say, naming another of Asher’s songs.
Nate narrows his eyes. “If you don’t want to talk to me, you can just say so.”
I shrug. “If you want me to stroke your ego, you can just say so.”
His lips curl in amusement, and he steps closer. “My ego could use a good stroking, now that you mention it. But not by just anyone.”
“Who do you have in mind?”
He makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a moan and drops his gaze to the little hint of cleavage revealed above the neckline of my dress. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to show a lot of cleavage, but it’s kind of hard to avoid in anything that doesn’t accommodate an undershirt, and this black dress definitely doesn’t accommodate anything.
Nate lifts his eyes back to mine and sends a thrill rushing through me. Hot eyes. Hungry. I’m experienced enough to know those are the eyes of a man who has sex on the brain. Sex with me.
“You really have a boyfriend?”
I shift awkwardly. “Hard to believe?”
“Hard to believe he’d not want to be as close to you as possible when you’re dressed like that.”
My eyes seek out Maggie, but she’s in the corner straddling Asher’s lap and definitely not paying me any mind.
Saying the words out loud—saying that Max and I broke up—makes it too real, and I’m not ready for that. When I bought the dress to wear tonight, I thought Max would be by my side. I wouldn’t have had the courage to buy it at all if I hadn’t seen the heat in his eyes as I stepped out of the dressing room. That had been real, hadn’t it? And the way he responded when I touched him? Can guys fake that?
“Here…” Nate leads me over to the bar. He takes my drink from my hand and dumps it in the sink. After rinsing my glass tumbler, he fills it halfway with clear liquid.
“What’s that?”
“Tequila blanco. The good stuff.”
“You trying to get me drunk?” Not that I’d mind. A drunken night with Nate Crane? I could go for that. Especially after the week I had.
“It’s for me,” he grumbles. He shoots back the alcohol in two long swallows, watching me the whole time. When he puts the glass back on the counter, he says, “My consolation prize, since I don’t get to spend my night seducing you.”
“Why not?”
Our eyes lock, and I’m not sure who’s more shocked, him or me. I wrap my fingers around the glass, resting my hand over his for a moment before I pull it away. Something pulses between us, electric and hungry.
After grabbing the tequila, I add a generous shot to the glass. Not as much as he had, but enough to take away my worries for a bit when the heat hits my veins.
“Lime?” he asks.
I nod, and he grabs a couple of wedges from the little glass at the back of the bar.
He’s watching my every move like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Like I’m some sort of erotic film he can’t look away from.
“We called these snakebites when I was in high school,” I say. “We’d do them at parties. What do you call them?” I bring my wrist to my mouth and wet the inside of it with my tongue.
“Sexy.” His voice is a low rumble. “But with your mouth, I might need to modify that name.”
Raising a brow in question, I grab the salt and sprinkle it on my wrist. We used to do these as body shots. In fact, I remember Will taking one off Cally before they started dating. I remember standing there and thinking, Someday, a guy is going to look at me the way Will is looking at Cally right now. I’m not feeling quite brave enough for body shots, though, so I carry on, knowing he’s watching me.
Slowly, I lick the salt off my wrist then shoot back the tequila. It’s high-quality stuff and drinks smooth, a silky rush of heat down my throat then circling in my belly.
I lift a lime to my mouth and suck.
Nate’s lips part. His pupils dilate. Max used to look at me like that.
When I pull the lime from my lips, I can see Nate’s pulse thrumming beneath his Adam’s apple.
I need this. I’ve been in such a dark place this week. Since I got that text message and my world imploded. I want to get lost in this man, to spend my evening reveling in superficial attraction—even if it’s completely irrational coming from a music god who dates celebrities and can have any woman he wants. But it’s there, thrumming between us as clear as the notes he played on his guitar. And that is exactly what I need.
“Hanna.” Maggie’s voice pulls my gaze away from Nate’s for the first time in too many heartbeats. “Asher and I are heading back to the hotel. You ready?”
I look at Nate and back to my sister.
“I’ll take her,” Nate offers. He shifts his attention to me. “If that’s okay with you. I thought we could hang.”
“That’s…that’s fine with me.”
Maggie’s studying us, a crease between her brows. “I thought you said you were tired?”
Asher slides an arm around Maggie’s waist and squeezes. “Let them hang. Nate’s harmless.” He raises a brow in Nate’s direction and nods toward the door.
Nate and Asher step into the hallway, leaving me alone with Maggie and her worried eyes. “You don’t have to entertain Nate just because he’s putting on the charm.”
“I don’t,” I blurt. Taking a breath, I force myself to relax. “I don’t feel like I have to. I just want to chat for a while.”
She chews on her lip then nods. “Okay. But call if you need anything.” She squeezes me into a hug and then heads for the door.
“Maggie?” I ask, stopping her. “He’s like Asher, isn’t he?”
“What?”
“Nate. I mean, he’s a good guy like Asher is, isn’t he?”
“What are you doing, Hanna?”
“I just need someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t from New Hope. Nate seems…” I drop my gaze to the floor. I’m ridiculous. I just met the guy and I’m cr
ushing so hard that I want to turn cartwheels. I’m pretty sure this is what they call the rebound.
“He’s a good guy,” she finally says. “But so is Max.”
I don’t know if that’s true anymore. But I say, “I know,” and watch her leave.
ASHER’S SCOWL isn’t something I’ve been on the receiving end of many times. “Behave yourself,” he warns. “That’s my future sister-in-law you’ve been molesting with your eyes.”
“Future sister-in-law, huh? Is that an official title?”
His scowl changes to worry and he shifts uncomfortably. “Not yet. Soon. I hope. If she says yes.”
“Goddammit, why didn’t you say something?” I pull him into a hug and thump him on the back. “You’re one lucky bastard, you know that?”
He hugs me back briefly before withdrawing. Asher’s pretty much the best friend I have in this world, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with Maggie. “I know,” he grumbles. “Trust me, I know. I just don’t want to scare her away.”
“You won’t.” Damn. Who would’ve guessed that Asher Logan would ever be worried about a woman turning him down? “She’s mad about you and your ugly mug.”
He smirks. “I’m serious about Hanna, though. Be careful with her.”
I nod, looking back into the room, where Hanna and Maggie are talking. “What do you know about the boyfriend?”
Asher shrugs. “He’s a local. Good guy.”
“Does he make her happy?”
Asher’s face hardens. “No, man. Don’t play that game. Taken is taken.”
I hold up my hands, palms out. “Understood.”
“Really? Because Maggie will have my ass if you seduce her sister.”
I nod, but I don’t make any promises. There’s a sadness in Hanna’s eyes that I recognize too well. She’s not happy. She wouldn’t be staying here with me if she were.
Maggie saunters out of the room, her eyes eating up Asher. He’s worried she won’t say yes? She’s as crazy about him as he is about her. Lucky assholes.
She slides her arm through Asher’s and tilts her face toward his, her eyes bright with adoration. “Ready to go?”
“Goodnight,” I call as they walk away, but they’re already so absorbed in each other that they don’t notice me.
When I head back into the dressing room, Hanna has gotten herself a new drink. She’s leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.
All that dark hair hanging down her back, her curves hugged tight by that killer dress, and damn—those shoes. Black strappy heels that show off her red-painted toes. Black heels I’ve imagined digging into my back since she first cracked that smile at me.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in months—hell, maybe ever—and I need beautiful after the ugly week I’ve had.
She opens her eyes and locks them on mine. Shrugging, she looks bashful for the first time all night. “Here we are.” Her eyes skim over me, and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip.
Oh, damn.
I’ve never been the kind of guy who goes after another man’s woman. I’ve known guys who get a thrill out of that—the conquest of it, the competition. Not me. But damn.
“My sister is going to be so pissed that she chose some club in Indy over coming with Maggie tonight.”
I grab a beer out of the mini fridge. “Why’s that?”
“If she finds out she could have spent the night hanging with Nate Crane? Are you kidding me?” Her purse buzzes and her smile falls away. “I bet that’s her.”
“You sure it’s not your boyfriend?”
Shaking her head, she draws her phone from her purse. “‘What am I missing?’ she’s asking. See? Twin think.” But she doesn’t smile when she says it. Instead, it’s almost like the words are a painful reminder.
“You’re a twin?”
She slides the phone back into her purse without typing a reply. “What is it with boys and their obsession with twins?”
I grin and shake my head. “I swear, my curiosity isn’t rooted in a sexual fetish.”
“Good. Because I’m not that kind of twin. Not by a long shot.”
“Meaning she doesn’t look like you?”
“If Lizzy had been here, you would only have eyes for her.”
I grunt. “Don’t count on it.”
“Lizzy is… She’s gorgeous. The classic blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty. She has a great sense of humor, and she’s always smiling. Everyone is happier when Lizzy is around.” She drops her gaze to the floor.
“Not all guys are hung up on blondes.”
She snorts. “Trust me. Being a brunette is the least of my worries.”
“I don’t understand. You think she’s more fun than you or what?”
She wanders over to the couch and sinks into the cushions, crossing one leg over the other and revealing another two inches of soft thigh while doing so. With some women, that would have been a calculated move meant to draw me in, but that’s not the case with her, and knowing that makes it even sexier.
She settles her drink on her knee and studies it. “I think she’s more attractive than me.” She gives a smile that wouldn’t fool a soul and shrugs. “No big deal. Is what it is.”
“There’s no one measure of attractiveness,” I argue. “She might be more attractive than you to one guy, but you’re going to be more attractive than her to another.”
“Oh boy, do I know how to have a good time or what?”
I know she wants to drop it, but I can’t. Not yet. “You’re just so fucking stunning. I’m a little surprised at your insecurities.”
She takes a long sip of her drink. “I could use a guy like you around, boosting my ego. It might be good for me.”
“Your boyfriend doesn’t?”
“I—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “We broke up. But don’t say anything to Maggie. I haven’t told her yet. Or anyone else, for that matter. It’s complicated.”
I’d like to say I’m not happy to hear those words, but I’ve never been a saint. “Damn. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Ice clinks against the side of her glass as she tilts it against her lips. She sips and swallows, her tongue darting out to catch a stray drop. “I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to think about it. You know what I want to do? I want to…”
She trails off, and I wait to be disappointed. Wait for her to say that she wants me to fuck her silly, that she wants a rock star to prove that her idiot boyfriend should have appreciated her more.
Hell, I’d do it. If she wanted me to take her on this couch with her boyfriend watching on FaceTime, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.
And that is insane, because I’m not some horny teenager desperate to get off.
I’d do it just to watch the way her eyes flare to life when I look at her. To see her blush and that pulse thrum a little faster at the side of her neck. I’d do it just to taste her.
“I want to have fun,” she finally says, her eyes lifting to connect with mine. “I’ve been so busy with finals and graduation, and I haven’t made time to let loose.”
“And how do you let loose, Hanna?”
Her smile is so bright that it damn near punches me in the gut with desire. Goodness radiates off her, and I want to crawl inside.
“I dance.”
THERE ARE very few nights of my life that I’m confident I will remember forever. But tonight makes the list. It’s a dream. A fantasy.
Every date and kiss and moment with Max always felt like it was leading to something more. Something bigger. I have no illusions here. This night has nothing to do with what comes after, and maybe that’s why I’m so uninhibited. A single night. A fantasy. An escape from my heartbreak.
Sweaty, teeming bodies fill the dance floor that literally pulses with the bass from the music.
I move awkwardly at first. There’s only room to dance against each other.
Taking a breath for courage, I step closer. My arms lo
op behind his neck and my hips rock to the beat.
From under his ball cap, he keeps his gaze locked on mine and slides his hands around my waist, resting them at the small of my back.
Our eyes stay locked as we adjust our movements to the music and the fit of our bodies. He smells so good. I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until I’m intoxicated.
Time trips, stutters, stalls out, and then melts away entirely. At some point, one of his hands moves from my back to my hip, and our already-connected dancing becomes something more intimate.
I’ve been self-conscious all my life, but dance has always been the exception. There’s something magical about music that masks everything else, and ever since I was a little girl all too aware of being the chubbiest in my ballet class, nothing but music and movement mattered once I started dancing.
Couples on either side of us are making out. The man to our right has his date’s leg up around his waist as she grinds against him and he sucks on her neck.
Nate’s hands drift to my ass and back up, down and back up.
His touch leaves me breathless and aroused, a hot ache settling firmly between my legs and inspiring me to match the pose of the couple next to us. I can feel the length of his erection against my belly, but I want to feel it nestled between my legs.
The realization makes me draw back a bit, put an inch between our bodies.
I never intended to make it to twenty-three as a virgin, but I have. Max and I could have gone there, but I was so terrified I’d disappoint him that I told him I wasn’t ready. That I wouldn’t be ready until after marriage. It was a lie. My body was completely ready. And my heart belonged to Max since the beginning. Maybe it still does.
“Where’s that mind of yours gone, angel?” Nate’s voice is in my ear again. Then his breath is sweeping over my neck, hot and needy, as if he’s asking permission to taste me there.
Suddenly, my virginity is nothing more than a heavy coat in the heat. I want to shed it, to be done with it and put it behind me—a problem I won’t have to deal with anymore.
I tilt my head up and rise onto my toes until my lips are a breath from his. He drops his gaze to my mouth for a moment, but instead of kissing me, he spins me around then grasps my hips with his hands, drawing my back against his front. The movement is so smooth and easy that it almost feels choreographed.
