“What the fuck was that?” I ask, hovering over her and not biting back my disbelief.
“I could ask the same,” Lucy says and she’s so stiff. I've seen her turn into stone, but no gargoyle could heat me up like she does. Our back and forth was bordering on flirting—for me, anyway—in spite of her attempts to get under my skin. I thought she was actually trying to upset me.
And maybe that was fair. I'd invited the groupies here, knew she'd see them, and I'd done it hoping it'd make her mad. I didn't know why I wanted to piss her off, I just . . . did. Seeing her so furious over me was exciting. It made my cock into steel, my mouth watering to taste hers.
Lucy is fucking me up from the inside out.
I love it.
“You were fucking jealous,” I say with a rough laugh. I lean against the dressing table, eyeing her up and down before leveling a smug grin her way. “You didn’t want those girls around so you could have me all to yourself.”
I'm barely teasing. I'm sure I've figured her out. The way she looks at me . . . the way she blushes and tries to act like she's better than me. I suspected from the first sound check when I caught her ogling me.
She shakes her head violently. “I need you alone so I can do my damn job.” Her stiff facade cracks a little to show the fire underneath.
“And I suppose it was your job to admire me this morning in my sleep?” My smirk is unrelenting.
“I—” she sputters, shaking her head in abject denial. “It was an accident!” There’s the real person underneath all the bullshit. That’s the person I’ve kept around, the person I want to know, the person who gets my engine revved if I’m honest with myself. I really, really want to rev her engine in return.
“Not what it looked like to me.” I push off the dressing table and saunter closer. “In fact, to me, it looked like you were getting a good, long look at the nice thick cock you wanted a taste of.”
She’s red, cheeks not just dusted but flaming. I want more of it, more of the human woman I know is in there. "You're wrong."
“You saw something you wanted.” I step in closer, taunting. And even though we’re several feet apart, Lucy takes a slight step back. "Admit it."
Her fists clench at her sides, she looks as though she wants to tear me apart. “You only wish, Avery. You pegged me for a groupie the moment you laid eyes on me and were more than happy to invite me to your dressing room. So I’m pretty sure you were the one who saw something you wanted.”
“And if I did?” I move closer still, but this time, she stands her ground. She’s still several feet away, a distance I’d love to close.
“Then you’re going to be wanting for a long time. I don’t mix business with pleasure.” There’s a haughtiness to her tone, that same curtness I’ve heard so often and want to break down.
“I’m not the one eyeing you naked.” My anger has turned into something far more passionate. I love seeing her get so worked up.
Her eyes dart from mine to my mouth. I pointedly lick my lower lip. She's whispering now, her eyes wild with a quiet distress. The air is boiling with heat, and I know it's not just my own. “But you would.” It’s not even a question.
“Of course I would. Why would I pass up seeing a beautiful woman naked?” I eye her up and down to emphasize the point. “But I wouldn’t break into your hotel room to do it.”
“I did not break in!” Lucy practically screeches, clearly seething. “I have the damn key. For emergencies like, oh, you haven’t called into your fucking interview. Because I’m your goddamn manager! And for your information, I was actually concerned. Like an idiot, clearly.” She huffs, shaking her head. “You know what? Screw this—I don’t have to take this shit.” Lucy turns on her heel; I grab her wrist, pulling her back around.
My voice is low as I look down to her, as I hold her wrist. "You said you could take anything I had. You're not going anywhere, I kicked those girls out for you." There are mere inches between us, and I can hear how rough and shallow her breaths are, hear her swallow thickly, feel the goose bumps on her wrist beneath my fingertips.
“What is it you need from me then, sir?” she asks, mocking me.
“Well, for starters.” I pull her closer to me—her eyes flash, lips parting. “I’m wondering why you hate my fan girls so much when you are one.”
“I’m—what? How could you . . . ? I mean—” Lucy shakes her head firmly.
“So you’re saying you don’t listen to my music? Never listened?”
She’s scarlet, eyes going wide in something like horror before they narrow. I'm on to something here. “So what if I own a few albums?”
That makes me laugh. "A few?"
“I—yes? I mean, it’s not like you have that many solo albums, and—” The tension in her shoulders loosens; she's been cornered and she knows it.
I can’t help the smug smile, I really can’t. “How many, including Fever Dream?”
Her eyes drop, and there’s still anger but there’s also something else to her flush, something suspiciously like embarrassment. “Um, twelve?” Lucy fists her skirt with her free hand as she raises her eyes. “Thirteen if you count the Red Rocks concert I downloaded. You were really on that night.”
“Thirteen?” My tone is skeptical. Fever Dream made five albums. I’ve soloed three. The numbers don’t add up.
She chews the corner of her mouth. “I maaaaay have a few of those bootleg demo albums.”
It’s my turn to be speechless. I just stare for a moment. “Thirteen. Demo albums.” I suddenly make the connection; Lucy isn’t just a fan, she’s a fan.
I focus on her, as if seeing her for the first time. Her chest rises, her breasts toying with me under her shirt. "Drew?" she whispers nervously.
I run my thumb over the inside of her wrist and hear her whimper. “I didn’t realize you were such a big fan, Lucy.” I draw out her name like a delicacy.
“I was,” she says, and I see her swallow again. “But that was before I realized what a jackass you are.” Her fists are clenching her skirt so tightly now that her knuckles are white.
“You don’t think I’m a jackass,” I say, grinning down at her, leaning closer. “You think I’m charming. You wanted to be like one of those girls earlier, sitting on my lap.”
She pushes at my chest in response, but my hold is as solid as ever. “Why can’t you just—just—” she sputters, clearly flustered.
“Keep things professional?” I ask, pulling us together so that our chests touch. The electric spark startles me; I was in control, but this rush of lust is blinding.
“Fuck off,” she growls, and I can feel her breath near my neck. I love that she doesn’t cower at my proximity; I don’t expect her to.
I can see into her pupils—how wide they are. Black pools that shake with a million emotions. “What is it you do want, Lucy?”
Her eyes are green fire. I've got her wrist, but she digs her fingers into my shirt along with her other hand. It's like she wants to throw me to the floor, or slam me against her. Maybe she doesn't even know. Her stare moves to my mouth for the second time and it triggers something in me, something deep and primal. I ache for this woman like I’ve never ached for anything, anyone.
“I want—” she says, wetting her lips. “I want—I should—go. It’s—”
I reach my hand out to cup her chin.
“No more lying,” I say, my voice low and needy. “I bet you're soaking your panties right now at the very idea of me.”
“I—” she begins, but before she can say more, I lower my head and press my mouth to hers. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s forceful and needy and I half expect her to push me away. But she doesn’t push, just pulls me closer with her hands clinging tightly to my jacket. I want to taste her, so I push my tongue between her lips and groan lightly at the feel of hers; warm, wet, and just as insistent.
As I kiss her like this, feeling her body against mine, I want more. My hands are greedy; this woman has been driving me crazy forever, so distant most of the time, acting like a frantic teen with a crush the rest. I need to know how much I’ve affected her, how much she wants this, so my hand slides up her thigh under her skirt.