“Well, you’re right.” He hesitated. “I mostly sing rock. My style is similar to Hinder, I guess. Hell, I even share a first name with the former lead singer.” He tugged on the hat again. “Now lose the hat, sweetheart.”
I took a deep breath, said a quick prayer he wouldn’t know who I was—or that if he did, he wouldn’t sell me out—and then pulled off the hat. The second I looked up at him, I made eye contact, dying to know what color eyes he had. Turned out, he had the brightest blue eyes fringed with the darkest lashes I’d ever seen.
He stared back at me, making my breath hitch in my throat. And I’d been right. He had a dimple in his chin that begged for me to touch it. The dimple gave him a boyish charm, which contrasted with the sharp cheekbones that made him look hardened. He had a scar on his cheekbone, and his nose looked as if it had been broken once or twice, and he was simply…devastatingly hot. That was the best way to describe him.
And beyond that? He called to my very soul.
I almost laughed at the sappy thought. I mean, sure, I sang about love and heartbreak all the time. But the truth was, I could count on one hand how many actual boyfriends I’d had. And most of them were in grade school when I’d been flat-chested and buck-toothed.
I might sing about love and romance and finding the one, but I wouldn’t know what love was if it hit me square in the face. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if I really believed in love at all. But this guy? This one dude?
He made me want to believe.
HOLY SHIT. I couldn’t believe my luck. I couldn’t believe that I had none other than Mackenzie Forbes, America’s fucking Sweetheart, flirting with me as if she was just a normal girl and I was a normal guy. Well, the second part was true. I was a normal guy, but she was most definitely not a normal girl.
She’d dyed her hair brown. It was usually a bright and sunny blonde. Was that part of her disguise, in addition to the hat she had been wearing? It had worked for a while. I’d had no idea who she was until she looked up at me. But if she knew who she was talking to, she wouldn’t be here right now.
If she knew who I was, what I’d done, and where I’d been, she wouldn’t be batting those famous green eyes at me, looking as if she wanted nothing more outta the world than me. Seriously, I was almost as far from her type as you could possibly get. Actually, one could easily say that my whole life had been filled with almosts…
I almost graduated high school, but then ran away. I almost killed my father when he beat my younger sister instead of me. Oh, and I almost went to jail for almost killing said father. And to top it off? I almost got a recording deal, but I lost it when I almost went to jail for almost killing my father.
Yeah. Like I said. Lots of almosts.
I’d been sitting here, wishing I could catch a fucking break for once in my life, and then bam. Mackenzie Forbes lands in my lap. Back in California, I used to take pictures of celebrities. The whole thing had felt dirty and soul-suckingly horrible, but it had paid the bills while I’d tried to get my career in music up and running. It had been years since I sold a picture to the media.
And yet, all it would take was a couple pictures of her, and a tabloid willing to pay for them, and I’d be able to buy groceries for a month. Hell, if I could get some pictures or a video of her in a compromising position or two, I could probably afford a decent place to live.
I couldn’t not take advantage of that…could I?
But then again, I’d quit taking pictures of celebrities for a reason. I didn’t like the way it made me feel afterward—all sleazy and gross. I didn’t want to be that guy anymore, damn it. But the money…
I forced a lighthearted smile, trying to act normal. I didn’t want to spook her before I decided what to do with her. I had a feeling a girl like her strived for anonymity in things like this, and who was I not to give it to her? I tried to remember everything I knew about her. She’d been on one of those talent shows, I think. Sang her way to the winning position and had been at the top of the charts ever since.
And now she was here with me. Imagine that. I forced a smile. “That’s much better. You’ve got a pretty face, sweetheart.”
Wait, should I not call her that? Would it make her think I knew who she was? I mean, I did know, but I didn’t want her to know I knew.
She nibbled on her lower lip, her cheeks flushed. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah.” I smiled and picked up my drink, trying to be casual and laid back, when inside I was strung tighter than a live wire. “I’ve seen a lot of pretty faces in my life, but you might be the winner.”
Just like you won that singing competition on TV.
She relaxed slightly. She seemed to think I didn’t recognize her. Was she really that gullible? It almost made me want to throw my arm over her shoulders and protect her from the big bad world. Protect her from assholes like me. That was irony at its finest, right there.
“Thank you.” She picked up her drink and took a sip, her pink lips closing around the straw perfectly. “Your face is pretty spectacular, too. Just for the record.”
I chuckled at the casual compliment. “Thanks.”
We fell silent, each watching the other. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted from me. Out of all the people in this bar…why me? My phone buzzed and I pulled it out, quickly scanning the text. After I finished, I flipped my phone over so she couldn’t see the screen, and took another sip. My old junker of a phone looked ridiculous next to her shiny iPhone.
Kinda like how we must look right now.
“So, what brings a girl like you to Key West?” I asked.
“Spring break.” She tipped her head toward the table where her friends had been sitting. “I’m here with my friends, just chilling. We go to the University of Chicago. Decided some warmth would be nice.”
Did she actually go to college? If so, what a waste of time. She’d probably already made millions singing. Why bother paying for an education after all that? She already had a lucrative career. And how did that work, exactly? Didn’t she need security with her at all times? Hell, maybe they were here right now.
I had so many fucking questions, and I couldn’t ask a single one. “Well, you came to the right place. It’s always hot here.”
“I know, and I love it.” Her gaze dipped low, running over my tats on my arms. I knew she was probably drooling over them. Good girls like her loved getting close to a bad boy with ink like me. It probably made them feel as if they’d walked on the dark side and survived, or some shit like that. For the most part, I didn’t mind playing that role for a little bit of fun. “Do you live down here?”
I tapped my fingers on my knee absentmindedly. “I do.”
“Have you always lived here?”
I tossed back the rest of my drink and let out a soft chuckle. “Nope.”
“Where are you from?”
She motioned the bartender over and pointed at my drink, smiling at the man and pulling out a twenty. I stiffened. I didn’t need her to buy all my fucking drinks. I could take care of my own responsibilities and myself. I’d been doing it since I was seventeen.
It might not have always come easy, but I made ends meet.
“Around.” I reached out, slid her money back in front of her, and threw down my own. “And I’ve got this round.”
She blinked at me. “I can pay for your drink. I want to.”
“I’ve got it,” I repeated, catching her gaze. “I’m good.”
She stared at me, as if no one had ever told her no before. Hell, no one probably had. If I recalled correctly, she was an only child and her parents were out of the picture. One might have been dead…that father she’d mentioned earlier, more than likely.
Her parents had gotten a divorce, and there had been a big custody battle over her when she was a kid. Didn’t sound like a very charmed life, but it was a fucking fairytale compared to mine.
Barry brought me another drink, along with another for her, and I nodded at him. He gave me a long look, took my tw
enty, and walked away. I knew he wanted to know what the hell I was doing with such a fresh-faced girl like Mackenzie Forbes, but I didn’t have an answer for that yet. “How long are you staying here in Key West?”
She swallowed the last of her drink and started the next. The girl was obviously looking to get plastered and get laid. I had a feeling that’s where I came in. But I didn’t screw drunk girls. It felt like taking advantage to me, no matter how willing they were before the drinks.
“I’ll be here through Saturday.” She turned to me, her knees brushing my thigh. The simple touch burned through my jeans, as if she was stroking me instead of touching me innocently. Fuck me, this girl was good. “Want to keep me company?”
I cleared my throat and took a long drink. She didn’t mess around. “Aren’t I doing that right now?” I vaguely remembered some rumors about her being caught with a drummer inside a club in Chicago, but I couldn’t remember the details. I’d have to Google it later. “Keeping you company?”
“I’m going to be one hundred percent forthright right now.” She met my eyes, her fingers drifting over my tats lightly. It did weird things to my body—her touch on my skin. “I’m looking for some harmless, no-strings-attached fun tonight. What do you think about that?”
I laughed uneasily and shifted my weight on the stool. My cock thickened at her words and her touch, but I ignored the urge to take her up on her offer. The girl was plastered, plain and simple. No matter how tempted I was, it wouldn’t be happening tonight. “Out of curiosity, how many of those fruity drinks have you had?”
“It’s called Sex on the Beach,” she said, dipping her voice low and biting down on her lower lip in a mockery of innocence. This girl might play sweet and innocent in the public eye, but she was too good to be that innocent. “I figured it was only right, since that’s exactly what I wanted out of tonight. Sex.” She paused, then added, “Maybe on the beach.” As if it needed clarification? “So…you in or not?”
She was a smart girl, turning my own words back around on me like that. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said, sliding her drink out of reach. “How many drinks?”
Across the bar, I saw one of her friends chatting with some guy I vaguely recognized. He watched me closely, as if he knew I didn’t belong with a girl like Mackenzie. He was right, of course. But he didn’t know me, so I shot him a narrow-eyed look that told him to mind his own fucking business. He didn’t look away immediately.
Was he Mackenzie’s security guard or something?
“Um, two, I think?” she said, pulling my attention back to where it belonged. Then she shrugged. “But I wanted you before I started drinking.”
“Look…I’m not sure—”
“Oh. Okay.” She stood up unsteadily, her cheeks bright red, but she stared me down, as if she refused to acknowledge the hurt pride my rejection caused her. “Thanks for letting me down nicely. I’ll just, uh…” She lifted a hand, then let it fall to her side. “Yeah. I’ll just go find someone else to hit on and leave you alone.”
The hell she would. That wasn’t happening. I stood up and offered her my hand. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
“N-Now?” she squeaked, looking at her full drink with a touch of desperation. She cleared her throat and gave me a seductive smile. It looked as fake as half the tits in this room. “I mean, uh, great. Your place or mine?”
No way in hell she was going to my place. “We’ll go back to your room,” I said, grabbing my phone and then her hand. “Where are you staying?”
She grinned. “At the Cove Suites.”
Of course she was. It was the fanciest joint around, complete with penthouse suites. It was only a three-minute walk from here, more or less. “I see.”
She picked up her hat and waved at her friend. The little blonde grinned and gave two thumbs up. Mackenzie set her hat back down on her head and linked her hand with mine. I could feel the dude I thought I recognized watching me, but I ignored him. He had to be her private security or something. Well, if so, he could fucking relax. She would be going to bed alone tonight. That’s not to say she would be doing the same thing tomorrow. Tomorrow was a whole other ballgame.
Hell, if she wanted to have some fun, no-strings-attached sex…
I was her guy. It’s the only kind of sex I let myself have for numerous reasons. But if it happened, she would be sober for it. End of story. I led her toward the hotel, my hand gripping hers tightly. “What’s your name, anyway? You never told me.”
“I’m…” She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure whether to lie to me, and then she seemed to decide. “I’m Mackenzie. You?”
So, she gave me half the truth. She just left off the last name.
“Austin. Austin Murphy.”
She nodded. “I like that name.”
“Thanks.” It was the only thing my father ever gave me that I’d kept. Well, that and the scar on my cheekbone I’d gotten when he’d hit me with a broken beer bottle. I couldn’t get rid of that either. “What’s your major?”
I asked more as conversation filler than anything, but part of me was genuinely curious. Why in the world would a woman with the money and talent she had choose to go to college, of all places? She didn’t need an education. Not with the voice she had.
“Psychology.”
I cocked a brow. “Why?”
“Why not?” She laughed. “I like the human mind. It works in weird ways no one can quite understand. I thought it might help me get closer to understanding, though. It fascinates me.”
I nodded. That made sense. It would probably help with writing emotional songs, if she wrote her own music. “I get that.”
“Are you a student?”
I snorted. “Nope.”
“Oh. How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four. You?”
She paused. “Twenty-one.”
Yeah, I knew that. But I couldn’t admit it, could I? It didn’t feel right, not letting her know I knew who she was. Maybe I’d tell her. Come clean and let her do what she wanted with that. Then again, maybe not. “Cool.”
“So what was your major?”
I hadn’t had a major. I’d been too busy chasing a dream to think about getting an education, and now it was too late for me. I fought hard to keep food on the table and a roof over my head, and on top of that, I had responsibilities and duties.
But I didn’t want to admit that to her. Didn’t want to tell her I barely had enough freedom to grab a fucking drink after work, let alone the luxury of a fancy education.
“I didn’t go to college.” I shrugged. “It’s not my scene. I’m a bartender at the bar you were at. I finished my shift before you came, then I sang a few songs for an extra couple of bucks. That’s what I do.”
“Oh.” She blinked at me. “But with your voice, I bet you could do so much more.”
“You’ve never even heard me sing.”
She stared straight ahead, her cheeks turning red. “Doesn’t matter. I can tell.”
“Well, I don’t do anything besides bartend and sing for fun.” I grinned at her, even though I didn’t feel like smiling. The woman was hitting on all my weaknesses and failures without even blinking an eye. “I keep myself busy between the two. It’s good enough for me.”
She shook her head, obviously not able to understand. “I bet you could hit it big if you tried. Have you ever thought about it?”
It kind of freaked me out that she kept going on and on about my potential. Sure, once upon a time, I’d agreed with her. I’d thought I could be more than that guy with the abusive father who’d ruined him. Then life had gotten in the way, and I’d stopped trying to change myself. I’d always been, and always would be, just me.
And I was okay with that now. She might not understand, but it was true. I didn’t want fame and fortune. “I’m fine like I am. I’m a bartender, and I’m cool with that. I sing for fun, and I’m cool with that. Will that be a problem for you?”
Ha. She wasn’t the only one who
could turn a person’s words around on them.
She blinked at me. “No, but—”
I stopped walking and swung her into the alley right next to her hotel. I pressed her up against the concrete wall, trapping her in with my body. Before we set foot inside that hotel, we needed to get a few things straight.
She took a deep breath, all shaky, and tilted her head back so she could look up at me. “A-Austin?”
I pressed against her, showing her how badly I wanted her. I lowered my head and stopped when my lips were barely touching her ear. “This isn’t about saving me from myself, or even about changing my life. It’s about you and me having some fun, remember?”
She nodded frantically, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Y-Yes. I remember.”
“Good.” I nibbled on the side of her neck, just hard enough to sting. “Now here’s how it’s going to be. If you still want me tomorrow, I’ll make you come so many times you’ll never be able to look at a bed…or a beach, if that’s what you want, without thinking about me. But not till tomorrow.”
“But—” she said, but cut off when I rocked my hips into hers, lifting her leg slightly so I fit easily against her in all the right places. She whimpered and leaned her head against the wall, her eyes closing. “O…kay. But why tomorrow?”
“I want to be sure you want this.” I flicked my tongue over her racing pulse. “And if you do, you’ll have me. I’ll be yours for the day, and then you can walk away with a clear conscience. Don’t worry, I won’t try to stop you. It will be pure, simple, scorching hot sex. Just you and me, any way you want me. Got it?”
She swallowed hard and gave a small nod. “Of course.”
I nipped at her earlobe. “Good. Now what floor are you on?”
“The top one,” she breathed.
I pushed off the wall, heading toward the elevator. Of course she’d be on the top floor. Only the penthouse for Mackenzie fucking Forbes. At some point, I’d come to a decision about what to do with her. I wouldn’t be taking her picture, and I wouldn’t be selling her out.
Between Us: Sex on the Beach Page 2
