Being this hung up on a girl isn’t my style, but then again, she isn’t just any girl. I don’t know anything about her but I can already tell that I’ve got it bad. Whoever she is, she might be the one for me.
I’d give up just about anything to touch her one more time, to feel her sigh as my fingers brush over her skin.
The dressing rooms here aren’t much, just small, closet-sized spaces that Logan’s bar lets the bands use for the night. One perk of playing the venue, I suppose.
I technically have to share it with the boys, but I’m counting on them wanting to go to the bar and schmooze with some potential fans after the show.
“I bet that girl is gonna post all about this online,” Alex adds, a devilish glint in his eye. “Maybe someone took a video and it’ll go viral or something.”
“A video of me dancing with a girl isn’t gonna go viral,” I mutter irritably, glancing at my watch and wishing they would leave.
“Wanna go celebrate?” James asks, prodding me. “Logan said he’s gonna hook us up at the bar. I guess sharing some tequila with you softened him up.”
“Yeah, I’ll meet ya there,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to come up with a realistic reason to hang back. I’m the hardest partier out of the three of us, and that’s saying something. “I, uh, just need a minute here first. You know, to decompress and make some notes about the show.”
“Seriously?” Alex asks suspiciously. “This is the best show we’ve ever played, man! It’s time to celebrate.”
My lips part then press shut again like a goldfish stuck on dry land as I rack my brain trying to come up with a decent excuse. While I’m floundering, my bandmates exchange a look before James bursts into laughter.
He shakes his head. “You dog. You asked her to come to the dressing room, didn't you?”
Alex laughs. “That’s our Easy E!” he crows. “Can you imagine how much fun we’re gonna have once we get our big break and start touring? Every night is gonna be like this. We’ll have more women than we can handle.”
James whoops and claps me on the back. “Yeah, but still never as many as Easy E, here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I answer tersely. “Now get out of here.”
The two guys bumble out of the dressing room, laughing and passing the flask back and forth on their way to the bar. The second the door swings shut, I burst into action. The first order of business is to put the expensive tequila Donovan gifted me in an ice bucket after taking a healthy sized swig or three—just enough so that the buzz I’ve started to sweat out while playing is reignited.
Alcohol simmers in my veins, my eyes darting constantly toward the door.
Will my angel really come?
Just as I’m tossing a few pillows onto the couch, a light tapping resounds against the wooden door. I suck in a breath, counting to three before rushing over so it doesn’t seem like I’m waiting on bated breath for her to arrive. Before answering, I smooth my hands through my dark hair and tug at my shirt, wishing I’d taken ten seconds to freshen up. But this sexy woman isn’t going to wait around. With any luck she likes the look of a man who’s just spent three hours rocking his soul out on stage.
When she knocks one more time, a faint hesitation to the sound, I quickly pull the door open. It’s her!
The woman standing before me is painfully gorgeous. Even though I already knew how beautiful she was, seeing her here in the bar’s back hallway instead of under the heat of the spotlights takes her beauty to a whole new level.
It literally makes my eyes ache to gaze at her. It’s the same feeling that I got when I was eight and Donovan dared me to stare up into the sun. I’d thought then that the dark swirly spots would never fade, but they had, only to be revived once more by the dazzling beauty before me.
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. My whole plan to play the smooth rockstar disappears in the wake of her arrival. I was going to sweep her inside with a passionate kiss, pour us some drinks, then serenade her before stripping her slowly, making sure my lips paid homage to every curve of her perfect figure. But now, standing before her, my mind feels as though it’s frozen.
“Hi,” she says softly, her voice smooth and delicate.
She even sounds like an angel!
Her eyes gleam, making my throat tighten.
“Hi,” I answer, uncaring that our first exchange isn’t the smoothest.
Had this been any other woman I would’ve been desperately attempting to come up with some silver-tongued line, but with my beautiful angel, there’s no need. There’s something effortlessly natural about the way we speak, like we both know our attraction is beyond words.
It’s refreshing and tantalizing all at once.
She glides into the room, with the most graceful steps I’ve ever seen, her eyes skimming the small space before locking back on me. Her full, pouty lips press together into a light smile, making lust bloom in my soul. She’s taking gorgeous to dangerous levels.
“Want some?” I ask, flicking a hand toward the tequila bottle on ice.
“Yes,” she answers, though I can tell it isn’t the booze she wants . . . it’s me.
I pull her toward me and she melts against my chest, my arms locking around her, my lips desperately seeking hers. In an instant I’m lifting her off her feet so her ankles can twine around me. Her fingers knot in my hair, her teeth grazing my lower lip as pure, carnal desire rushes through my veins.
The kiss deepening, I stumble forward, our bodies collapsing on the sofa. In a desperate haze, my belt is undone and her skirt is bunched up over her hips. Then, with just a sliver of boiling air separating our bodies, time seems to slow to a halt.
“I want you,” she breathes against my lips, her hands still twisted in my hair.
The simple sentence is enough to almost undo me right there.
Chapter 8
Morgan
“Let me help you . . .” he whispers huskily in my ear as I fumble with my skirt, my hands shaking with ecstasy.
His eyes are half closed, his voice drowsy with fatigue, though I’m sure I must look equally dazed. The flush of amazing sex still warms my skin, tinting it crimson.
Every time I blink the room seems to swirl, not because of the shot I’d had with Stacy earlier, but because I’ve yet to be freed from the euphoric haze of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. Not one single time has a man been so attentive to my needs.
My rock god had been dogged in his pursuit of my ecstasy, and now I don’t think I’ll be walking straight for a month. I know when I close my eyes, I’ll be reliving those blissful moments over and over again. It’s going to color my dreams crimson for weeks, and I’ll feel the pressure of his fingertips over my body for even longer.
I gaze up at him, basking in the glow of pleasure in his eyes as the faintest hint of a smile graces his handsome mouth. I still don’t know anything about him. We didn’t waste time sharing personal details and the last thing I want to do now is ruin this moment by pressing for any. I need this heavenly haze to last and that means it’s time to go.
Every girl knows it’s best to leave them wanting more.
Strong fingers hook under my thighs as he falls to his knees in front of me. He’s still shirtless but his pants grace his hips again, though the button remains undone giving me a tantalizing view. My eyes follow the wisp of dark curling ink that disappears beneath his rock-hard abs, making a tremor of desire quake through me once more.
He reaches for the bottle of tequila, taking a healthy swig before offering me the bottle. I politely shake my head. He sets the bottle down and smooths my skirt over my thighs though his hands linger, his dark eyes peering through equally dark lashes at me.
I bite the corner of my mouth, my head tilting back as I collapse against the arm of the couch. He pulls me toward him, his lips grazing mine with another kiss that leaves me breathless.
“If you keep doing this, we’re never going to get out of here,” I whisper, startled
by the seductive throatiness of my voice.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” he answers playfully.
He grins and reaches for the bottle of tequila again, taking another swig straight from the bottle. The question of his identity almost rises up my throat but I swallow it. I can look him up later without seeming clingy. I’ve been in the dating world long enough to know that you can’t lay all your cards on the table at once. I mean, sure, my old roommate Chloe did, and she got lucky, but lightning doesn’t strike twice.
Manhattan is a man-eater, you have to play it careful and you have to play it coy to snag a guy like this.
If what he wants is an all-night fling, then I’m going to have to leave right now so that he can’t get me off his mind.
Instead of capturing that delicious tequila infused mouth of his again, I reach past him and grab a scrap of paper and pen off the table. I write my number and scrawl my name under the digits before setting it face down on the table.
“That’s my number,” I say simply, bending so close to his face that our noses brush and his chin tips reflexively toward my own. Though I want to kiss him more than anything, I somehow manage to resist. “Use it,” I whisper.
I stand up, step around him and head for the door.
I feel his eyes follow me the entire way. Walking out of this dressing room is the single hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do. Every inch of my body is craving one more kiss, one more touch, one more romp on that legendary sofa. But I stay strong and I keep my eyes focused forward as I leave. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that he wants me just as badly as I want him.
He’ll probably call before I even get home.
There’s no way he’ll let me get very far, not with the look of raw lust I saw in his eyes.
I slip outside, smiling to myself as I close the dressing room door behind me.
Outside the bar, I find Stacy waiting just where she promised. We push our way through the people on the sidewalk. She stumbles just slightly, clinging to me as we walk quickly away from the bar. After a minute or two, I look back over my shoulder, half hoping to see my hunky rockstar following me. Unfortunately, the sidewalk is empty of rock gods.
“So . . .” Stacy presses.
I only offer her a sly smirk.
“Oh my God!” she accuses. “You totally got it on with that guy, didn't you?”
My glowing grin is all the answer she needs.
“I knew it! The second I saw him I knew he was your type, all tall, dark and broody.” She rolls her eyes. “So much for your whole ‘woe is me, I hate all men stuff,’ huh?”
“He’s not all men.” I can’t help but sigh wistfully. “Stacy, you have no idea,” I whisper, shaking my head and trying to remember how to breathe. Just thinking about him makes me blush. “That was the most intense, most amazing, most wonderful thing I have ever experienced in my life.”
Stacy stops walking. “Wow, really?”
Nodding, I sigh again.
“Damn, what’s this Romeo’s name?” Stacy demands. “And does he possibly have a single brother?”
The question makes my dreamy grin turn to a grimace “Um . . . Actually, I have no idea. I didn't ask.”
“What? How could you forget to ask?” Stacy whips her head back toward the bar, squinting to read the band name off the marquee. “Huh, Rasping Sallies. He didn’t look like a Sally to me. You should’ve gotten his name, Morgan.”
I roll my eyes. “You know how it is. I didn't want to seem to clingy. We’d just hooked up, I didn’t want him to think I was stalking him like some kinda groupie.”
“By asking his name?”
I shrug. “I left my number. He can call me . . . which he will.”
Stacy shakes her head. “This is why I don’t date.”
I smile and squeeze her arm tighter while we walk. “I have a good feeling about this one.” A really good feeling.
The night air is warm as we walk. The breeze caresses my long blonde hair the same way my handsome musician had. When I close my eyes, I can still see his face, I can still feel his fingers locked with mine as he pinned my arms over my head . . .
A shiver rolls up my spine.
He’ll call me, I know he will, and the rest will be history.
I look around me, cataloging everything I can about tonight. I’ll want to tell our kids everything about the night I met their rockstar father. Well maybe not everything . . .
But I know a connection like this only happens once in a lifetime. And for the first time in a long time, I feel a genuine smile on my face and hope in my heart.
Chapter 9
Eric
The dressing room feels cold and empty without my beautiful angel in it. My body moves on its own, sagging heavily down against the arm of the faded sofa where our bodies rested only moments ago. I can still hear her soft moans in my ears and feel her fingernails running over my skin, making my still shirtless back erupt in goose bumps that leave every inch of me tingling.
I take another shot of tequila to dull the ache her absence has left me with. The booze blurs the edges of my mind, crippling tiredness creeping in like a storm. I fight against the tide of my exhaustion, desperate to know the name of the woman who left an imprint on my heart, but every move feels like I’m fighting against gravity.
In a haze, I twist slightly toward the note that she left, trying to imagine what her name might be. Despite my curiosity, I’m unable to convince my legs to move yet. Every inch of my body feels like it’s buzzing with euphoric energy thanks to the tequila and mind-blowing sex. I glance toward her note again, but in the end, I succumb to fatigue. I sag against the sofa and breathe in the lingering fragrance of her body as I fall asleep.
My dreams are haunted by her perfection. Everything about her is perfect, from her endlessly long legs to the delicacy of her moans to the way she bit the corner of her lip with slightly crooked top teeth. She’s so beautiful, though the word feels dull in comparison to her. I didn’t even know her name yet but I’m already sure it will inspire a thousand love songs.
* * *
Noise outside my dressing room rouses me, the taste of tequila stale on my breath.
How much time has passed?
I sit up and spot the note my angel left just as the door to my dressing room opens and James and Alex storm inside. Alex sweeps the room with intoxicated scrutiny as though he’s expecting my girl to be hiding somewhere while James saunters toward the tequila and pours himself a large glass. He takes one short sip, savoring it, then downs the cup before noticing the note and scooping it up.
“What’s this?” he crows with a cackle of delight. “Did Juliet leave her number for you, Romeo?”
“Juliet?” I ask dazedly. “Is that her name?”
Alex’s eyes flash. “You don’t even know her name?” he snorts. “Easy E strikes again!”
Both men laugh, elbowing each other in the ribs and passing the expensive bottle of tequila back and forth. Regaining movement in my legs, I stand up and shuffle toward them, reaching out a hand for my angel’s note.
“Let me have it,” I say trying to snatch the scrap of paper, but my movements are still lethargic and clumsy.
“Why?” Alex asks, taking it from James and folding it up so that it sits easily in his palm. Staring at me with defiant eyes, he curls his fingers around the note and I can hear the thin paper crumpling.
Hair lifts on the back of my neck in irritation and my fingers curl into fists. “Because I want it,” I answer quietly.
Alex and James exchange a look, sharing conspiratorial grins. Something cuts through my tequila haze, telling me to tread carefully. Too much interest and one of them will end up swallowing the tiny piece of paper just to spite me. Not enough and they might keep the note to call the gorgeous girl themselves.
Sometimes I forget why I spend so much time around these guys. They still act like we did in high school.
“You were gonna call her, weren’t you?” James clicks hi
s tongue in disappointment. “You know that would make you seem desperate.”
“Totally desperate,” Alex adds.
“You gotta make her wait, E,” James preaches. “That’s the game, bro.”
Alex snorts. “What game? She’s way outta your league, E. I bet she texts ya back once, then ghosts ya—if you’re lucky.”
James nods in agreement, enjoying this moment a bit too much from the entertained glint in his glassy eyes. “Face it bro, you were some checkmark on a bucket list.”
“Yeah. She’s probably always wanted to bang a rockstar,” Alex teases.
“Who doesn’t?” James says raising another glass of tequila.
Alex clinks his flask against it. “To Easy E, the master of scooping up girls on stage.”
“I might have to steal that move, bro,” James adds attempting to be more considerate now that he looks envious that I’m the only one who managed to snag a woman to bring back to the dressing room.
Alex waves him off. “Nah, James is right. Don’t call her. You’ll only humiliate yourself.”
“I don’t care,” I respond before I can help it, making both of them cackling with laughter.
I know I’m not following my own advice of playing it cool, but I’m too drunk to care.
“You’re right,” I grumble. “She’s way out of my league and I have no idea why she was into me, but there was something there . . .” I trail off, unwilling to divulge the depth of the connection I felt with her.
When we were laying curled on that couch entwined in each other, chest-to-chest so that our hearts beat in perfect rhythm, all I could think about was how I wanted to lay there with her forever.
Eric: A Clean Billionaire Romance Page 4
