Nothing is knocking me out tonight. Not even that nagging feeling in my stomach, reminding me that I always feel emptier after.
That I miss how intimate sex felt with Violet.
Coming to our old hangout spot was a mistake. But I'm here now. I'm not gonna wallow. Either I take this woman around back and spend half an hour making sure we both enjoy ourselves or I go home and practice the songs I need to master before our show in San Francisco.
I run my hand through my dark hair—that always works—and shoot the woman another smile.
She looks me up and down, licking her lips as her gaze settles on my crotch. She's practically screaming I'd like to suck you off, anyplace that works for you.
At this point, I know the drill backwards and forwards.
She moves closer. Her expression gets nervous. Too nervous for I've never picked up a guy before, especially given her age. Nothing wrong with an older woman—she looks about thirty—but they don't usually get nervous picking up guys.
Fifty bucks says she's about to ask if I'm really Ethan Strong.
A hundred bucks says she follows up with something about how she'd never screw a stranger, but she feels like she already knows me.
Hell, a thousand bucks says she mentions something about my skill with my hands.
It's true—I am fucking fantastic with my hands.
She shimmies her hips as she moves closer. Her eyes find mine. "I hate to ask, but are you really Ethan Strong?"
Damn. So much for a night of anonymous sex. I'm about to become the story she tells all her friends.
I smile my megawatt smile, the one I use to win over the crowd. "That's me. What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Natasha." She laughs. "You're so funny in interviews. Do you get that all the time?"
Yes. I smile back at her. "Not as often as I'd like."
"I normally don't do this kind of thing but I feel like I can trust you." She squeezes my bicep over my leather jacket. "Oh listen to me, I forgot to start with the best part. You're so good in Dangerous Noise. Your hands must be talented."
"You can be the judge of that, sweetheart." I try to hold my smile, but it's getting difficult. This is such bullshit. She must realize it too.
There. I manage to smile wider. If I'm going for this, I have to hold up my end of the rock star fucks groupie bargain.
She gets her fantasy. I get a few minutes out of my head. We both come. Yeah, I'm using her, but she's using me too.
It's win-win.
Usually.
Right now, I'm having a hard time convincing my body to get in gear. This whole place screams of Violet. And the contrast between the way Violet stared at me—she saw every fucking inch of me—and the way this woman is looking at me, like I have famous guy tattooed on my forehead, is underlining how much this is bullshit.
I have to move closer. I have to slide my hands to her ass and whisper in her ear I shouldn't do this, sweetheart—to be honest, I've already forgotten
her name—but there's something special about you.
That's my usual move.
I shrug my shoulders to shake off my funk. It's been almost two years since Violet left. Doesn't matter that no one compares to her. I'm not looking for a new girlfriend. I'm not looking to fall in love.
I'm not interested in love. That's more bullshit.
"This bar is getting crowded, huh?" she asks. "How about we go back to your place?"
Uh-uh. Nobody comes back to my place. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna leave her wanting. I turn on the charm. "My sister's in town. How about we go back to your place. Or-" I slide my arm around her waist "—we could go around back."