Those cards I bet on? I was all set to fold,
But instead they came up you and me.
It was the last thing I’d hoped for, the last thing I’d expect,
But now I feel like fate’s breathing down my neck.
Take it, pull it, rip it, hold it,
Whatever you do, don’t you let it go.
Did you feel it too or am I alone?
How can no one—no one have known?
Someone should have prepared me for this,
This idea of winning more than I’d lose,
Because even though there’s grief, there’s also your kiss.
It was the last thing I’d hoped for, the last thing I’d expect,
But now I feel like fate’s breathing down my neck.
Take it, pull it, rip it, hold it,
Whatever you do, don’t you let it go.
There are a few more verses, but I’m not thinking too hard about it. I’ve practiced this song so many times that at this point, it’s mostly muscle memory and I let that easy part take over. I’m not the smartest guy, and despite my best efforts I’m not the hottest guy, but one thing I can do is play. So I do. Sing my heart out and rip my fucking keytar for all I’m worth. By the end I’m sweating from more than just the lights and it’s as buzzed as I’ve ever gotten from playing.
There’s a deafening silence when I let go of the last chord and I don’t want to open my eyes. I thought I did okay, and even if they didn’t love it, people at concerts get caught up in the mood, or they’ll clap to be polite, but there’s—
That’s when it hits me like a bomb blast. This wave of applause and shouts nearly bowls me, and the stadium sparkles with all of the flashes going off. All for me. It’s wild. But the best part is the half-smile Jordan’s got on her face and the way she holds her thumb out sideways before turning it up.
Yeah, I did all right.
8
The show is over. The show is over, and we made it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so worried about a show going off well since maybe our very first one? And this one went far better than that. People threw popcorn balls at us during the sixth-grade Halloween dance. So, yeah, better.
The best part though is that I still get to surf this wave, which is better than being high. The applause and the shouts still echo in my ears, and the adrenaline from seriously rocking out is pumping through my veins. I’d like to say that every show I’ve played has been equally good, but that would be a lie. I mean, even rock stars get the flu, amirite? There can be something off, or someone’s having a bad day or maybe something got broken and had to be replaced, or maybe Teague forgot his lucky socks, or whatever the fuck it is, some shows are good or great instead of phenomenal.
Tonight’s show? One of the best we’ve ever done, hands down. I don’t know what it was, but we killed it. And it shows in the way we’re tumbling into the green room. Zane and Rowan are already making out in a corner and there’s no way they’re going to last long here. They’re going to be headed back to the hotel and I don’t blame them. They don’t get a ton of time together.
Teague and Christian have grabbed beers and Teague’s got his arm slung around Christian’s shoulders, holding him close. They’re also stinking cute. And sometimes I feel like nothing’s changed because it seems so obvious now that they’d be together. And then there’s Nick, who’s bouncing off the walls, of course, and me.
What am I doing now? Usually Nick and I would hit the clubs or have some groupies back to our hotel suite for an after party, but, I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to share this feeling with strangers. Shows are always kind of emotionally taxing, but this felt personal in a way they usually don’t.
And now Nicky’s taking off his shirt. Because why would he not?
Especially when a certain woman is showing up in the doorway, looking incredible with color high on her cheeks. She pauses, does a double take at Nick who’s shucking his jeans because what grown man doesn’t run around in his Batman underwear, and then she finds me. Her face lights up, seeming to glow even brighter in the dingy lights of the green room than it had under the flood and spotlights of the stadium.
Though there are other people in the room, they all become a dark and hazy blur as she moves toward me, like she’s somehow warped reality. Maybe she has, because everything around us seems to go silent too as she steps up right in front of me and grabs the neck of my T-shirt. It’s one of my favorites, and if one of the guys handled it like this, I’d push them off and snap at them for stretching it out, but I’m desperate to see what Jordan’s going to do with it. With me.
What she does first is yank me in close until our foreheads are almost touching and I want to apologize because I don’t exactly smell like roses after a show, but I’m too stunned by her to even say sorry. That turns out to be okay, because she’s got something to say to me.
“Goddamn you, Benji Park.”
And then her mouth is on mine and she’s kissing me. Kissing. Me. Usually when people say “goddamn you, Benji Park,” and yeah, it’s happened before today, I don’t get kissed afterward. Punched, maybe, but not kissed. But somehow coming from Jordan, it seems appropriate.
She’s still gripping my shirt, her fist in between our chests, but her other hand has come up to my neck and she’s stroking behind my ear with her thumb. All there is for me to do is to slip my arm around her waist and drag her in even closer, lay my other hand in between her shoulder blades, and breathe her in. This is like our hug before, but even better, because I’ve got more of her. Her lips press against mine, and she gives me a little lick with the tip of her tongue. Uh, yes please.
I open my mouth and her tongue slips in, caresses mine, and god, if I thought her voice could stroke me, this is a hundred times better. No, not better—I could still listen to a recording of her all damn day and be happy—but having her work that same magic inside me makes my pants tight around the crotch area. I don’t remember the last time I got hard from a kiss, but Jordan’s doing it and this is with us fully dressed. Would I just pass out if we got naked? Would my brain explode if she put her hand on me? For fuck’s sake, just thinking about it has me groaning.
Which is when I realize that unlike before when I just felt like the room around us was silent, everyone in the green room is actually quiet now and probably staring at us, wondering what the actual fuck. It’s a fair question because while I’m not going to bring it up in case I get an answer I don’t like, I’m sure as hell wondering the same thing myself.
Reluctantly, I break it off and find myself panting. She knocked the breath right out of me. I don’t want to let her go and I don’t want to realize this moment’s been a dream and I’ll wake up in my hotel suite with some other girl in my bed and champagne bottles scattered all around, but she should know we’re now the center of attention.
“Jordan,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Yeah?”
I do my best to look around without actually moving my head, and yep, everyone within my limited sightline is gaping at us. “Um, everyone’s staring at us.”
“Is that a problem?”
Is it? “Not for me, but if you—”
“What’s a problem for me is that I still want to be kissing you, and ideally on the way to someplace where we can do more than kiss. I was thinking my place. Does that work?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
She presses another kiss to my lips but doesn’t linger this time. No, it’s short but possessive and promises other things, which I would very much like, and then she turns to face the rest of the room.
“Benji and I are going back to my place. Don’t wait up.”
And then she’s dropping my shirt to grab my hand and dragging me through a room full of people who are all staring, slack-jawed at this woman who I have no doubt is about to blow my fucking mind.
If I’m lucky, I’ll impress her too.
9
I did beg off to grab a super q
uick shower before we ditch the stadium because I feel swampy after concerts, but I made it quick because goddamn. We miraculously score a cab and start getting handsy in the back while the driver rolls his eyes. Yeah, yeah, mister, damn kids. But you can’t tell me that if you had a woman like Jordan wanting to make out with you that you wouldn’t take every opportunity you got to do just that.
Not that I want to take advantage of her, at all. I’m pretty sure I’m not since she was the one who dragged me out of the stadium and into the car, but I want to make sure.
“Jordan—”
“Yeah?”
Apparently I’m so irresistible that she can’t take her mouth off me because when I broke our kiss, she moved to kissing my neck, and the movements of her tongue against my skin are making me desperate. Also horny as fuck, and trying my very best to concentrate because there really was something I was going to say. But with her hand grazing the waistband of my jeans, skimming under my shirt to slip over my skin—yeah, my brain is basically short-circuiting. Hell.
“Was there,” kiss, “something,” lick, “you wanted,” suck, “to ask me?” bite.
Was there? Yes, there fucking was. But my abs are basically convulsing with the way she’s touching me, I’m lightheaded and all I want is to get my hands on her. All over her. No, wait, that was close.
“Yes. We can go to my hotel if you don’t want me to go back to your place. I know some women aren’t cool with that, and I won’t be offended if you’d rather go back to my room.”
There’s a pause in the touching, the kissing, and the biting as she sits up and looks me in the face.
“Ange said I could trust you, that you were one of the good ones. Was she wrong?”
“No. Not at all. But sometimes it’s hard to ask for that stuff. I want you to feel good about whatever we do so if there’s ever something you don’t want to do, or you want me to stop, just say the word.”
“Okay. I’m not exactly shy, but I appreciate that. And you know if I told Ange anything different, she’d break your other wrist.”
I slap a hand over my eyes. “Aw, man, she told you about that?”
“You bet your ass she did.” I can’t see the smile on her face, but I can hear it in her voice. “She claimed it was an accident, but she’s probably only saying that for legal reasons.”
“Probably.”
Then Jordan’s moving my hand and I can see her face, looking like she’s gonna kiss me again. Oh, hey look, I’m right.
The rest of the cab ride flies by and I throw I don’t know how much money at the cabbie when we get out in front of a nice-looking building. It’s wide and kind of squat, but the big grey stones it’s made of look super solid, maybe cool to the touch.
Jordan sizes me up as she lets us in. “I hope those thighs aren’t just for show, I live in a third-floor walk-up.”
“For show? You wound me.” I clutch one of my pecs in mock offense. “I could carry two of you up these stairs and not break a sweat.”
She gives me a wrinkled-brow, oh-really look. “Not that I don’t think your gym regimen isn’t solid, but I bet we weigh in about the same. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t let you test that theory.”
A laugh escapes me, and I grin. “Fair. Should we race instead?”
“No. Jeez, what is with you? I thought I’d left the hyper-competitive people behind when I finished law school, but apparently not. Is everyone in LtG like this?”
It’s probably a hypothetical, but I need something to focus on besides her ass while we start our hike up to the top floor of the building. “Teague and Zane can be. Christian’s chill about most things, although you get that guy geeking out over electronica and he’ll wipe the floor with you. Nick…Nicky can be competitive but usually about getting attention, so it’s not about being the best. Hell, sometimes it’s about being the worst. Or sometimes the guy with the least clothes on in the most public place. He’s weird. And has a thing for nudity. But he and Zane are probably my best friends.”
We’ve reached the top landing, and Jordan opens her door with another key, letting us in.
“Do you have a roommate?”
Jordan kicks off her shoes and throws her head back to laugh. “Oh hell no. I have six brothers and sisters and my mom is a teacher at a boarding school so we lived in a small faculty apartment. As soon as I left home, I did whatever I had to so I could have my own space. Worked as an RA in college, tended bar while I was in law school. I’m never sharing a room with anyone else as long as I live.”
Something about that makes me feel defensive, or like I’ve got to stick up for myself. Like, not even me? Which is ridiculous. We’re hooking up. As long as she doesn’t dump me on the curb after I’ve provided an orgasm or two, it shouldn’t matter what her plans for the future are. We barely know each other.
Although I’d like to know her better. Like how exactly she prefers to have those orgasms I’m intent on giving her. If she tastes a fraction as good as she smells, I hope it’s with my mouth. That’s what I should be focusing on, not some offhanded and irrelevant comment.
Without her shoes on, she’s shorter than I am, and for some reason I find that endearing, which would probably make Jordan punch me. I don’t get the feeling she’d take kindly to anyone thinking of her as cute, but in her bare feet, walking down a narrow hallway with her hips swaying in a rhythm that’s both provocative and determined…but also short because apparently she’s tiny? Yeah, there’s no way I can think of her as not adorable. She could totally still kick my ass, but that just makes it even better.
I have to almost jog down the hall to catch up with her, and when I do, she’s turning into a bedroom with light purple walls, a dark wood sleigh bed and dark purple bedding. It’s pretty, and luxe, and it smells like her, and I like it a lot. There are pictures on the wall I’d take the time to look at except I’m definitely not here for sight-seeing. I’m here for getting it on.
She’s standing at the side of her bed, hands behind her and resting on the shiny purple fabric. I don’t know if she had the lighting in here designed to make her look extra amazing, but she does. Her near-black hair’s in a halo around her head, the overhead light shining through it, and either she put some kind of glitter on her cleavage or she’s sweating a little. Don’t care, either way it’s hot as hell, and all I want to do is bury my face in it. She’d have to sit on the bed for me to do that without me getting a crick in my neck. How high were those heels, anyway?
Stepping forward, I put my hands on her waist, feel the way her body curves under my hands. I don’t want any clothes between us, no matter how sexy those leather pants are, but I’ll wait for her to give me an indication that she wants to take this to the next level. She puts a hand around the back of my neck and drags me down to kiss, and we do that for a while, pressed together. Her hands explore me as mine are exploring hers, and I almost die when she slips a finger under the waistband of my underwear and just into the cleft of my ass. I haven’t done a ton of butt stuff, but I once dated a girl who would rub my hole while we fucked and that shredded my senses. Maybe Jordan would be into that? Maybe she’d want me to try that on her too?
But for as hungry as she seems, we’re not really…progressing. I mean, I’d kiss her all night and not be sorry about it—fucking well take a long shower and go through too much shower gel when I got back to the hotel room, but otherwise, that’d be fine. But she seems frustrated too.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?” She’s breathless, her eyes kind of wild, and her hands don’t stop roaming.
“Do you want to take this farther or are you good?”
She bites her lip, real hard, rolls her eyes in this kind of embarrassed way and drags her gaze from mine. “I want to, I’m just—”
“Not ready? That’s cool. Kissing is awesome. Touching you is awesome. All of this is awesome.”
“It’s…not that.”
“Then what is it?”
I cup her face in my hand, slid
e my thumb across her cheek that’s a pretty light brown lit with pink, willing her to look at me. Finally she does.
“I don’t do this all that often?”
“Do what?”
“Bring guys back to my place. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends and everything, it’s not like my apartment is a sex-free zone, but I don’t know you.”
Oh. I…can’t say anywhere near the same thing. I’ve slept with a lot of women, most of them only for a night. This is, if not standard, a regular occurrence for me.
“I get it. We don’t have to do anything. I like you and I think you’re sexy as hell and I would love to do whatever you’re up for, but seriously. More than I want to get into your pants, I want you to be happy.”
“That’s the thing, though. I…I want you, Benji. Really bad. And I would have no problem stripping you out of those clothes, throwing you on my bed and riding you—”
Fucking hell, I’d have no problem with that either.
“But I’m just not sure…how.”
“How?”
“Yeah, like I’m used to taking it slow and this isn’t what I’d call slow. I’m a little out of my depth.”
“You didn’t seem out of your depth in the green room.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, well, that part was easy. But I’ve been trying to be better about taking what I want. About saying yes to things I’d normally say no to.”
“Why’s that?”
I don’t mind being a check mark on someone’s sex bucket list, but if that’s what this is then I’d like to brace myself. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked her. I do. A lot. And if I’m just a notch on her bedpost, well, I’ll try not to get invested. Any more than I already am anyway.
“Because in my business, no matter how good I am, and no matter how hard I work or my co-workers work, I watch people’s lives get torn apart every day. I used to use that as an excuse to be cautious, but with things the way they are…”
Rogue Hearts Page 30
