“You caught that, did you?” He shrugged and put his hands up. “Mia’s idea, not mine. Swear.”
She gave him a small smile. “I figured.”
Steven huffed out a breath and she caught the familiar scent of bourbon in the air. She licked her lips and took a step closer—feeling like a junkie who’d just gotten a hit of her favorite brand. She wanted it. Wanted it to hurt and burn and remind her of everything she’d tried so hard to forget.
“Take me home.”
Deep blue eyes widened as she came closer. Who knew five-feet two inches of blonde mess could make a six-foot tall tattooed guy look so panicked? Steven’s eyes narrowed as he watched her move in for the kill.
“Oh-kay. You mean take you home as in walk you home, right?”
“Are you sleeping with Mia?” Kylie asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Jesus, Ryans. Guess subtly’s not your thing, huh?”
“Yes or no?”
Steven shook his head. It was the answer she wanted. For tonight, he could help her remember. Maybe he could help her forget, too. One day. Except…something had flashed in his eyes when she’d said Mia’s name.
“You’re not.” She blew out a breath. “But you want to be, don’t you?” It was probably for the best.
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes raked over her. Not in an I-want-to-tear-the-clothes-from-your-body kind of way like someone else’s used to. More in the I-have-no-idea-what-the-hell-you’re-doing kind of way.
Well, that made two of them.
She liked Steven. Enjoyed writing music with him. Hanging out with him wasn’t turning out to be so bad either.
They’d crossed a few lines once, months ago after a late night writing session and too many drinks. But it hadn’t been like…like it was with Trace. Damn. Even thinking his name still stung.
“I don’t know yet. We’re getting to know each other. Seeing how it goes. Neither of us is really looking for anything serious, you know?”
Kylie turned her face away from his. “Of course not. Don’t want to end up like me, right?”
“Hey.” She flinched and half-stumbled when Steven reached for her. He steadied her and placed his finger under her chin so she’d have to look up. Her gaze met clear blue eyes when what she wanted to see was stormy hazel ones. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You hear me? Nothing whatsoever.”
“Yes there is,” she whispered.
I gave my heart away and he didn’t want it. Now I can’t find it anywhere.
Steven shook his head and leaned in close. Close enough to kiss her. Their surroundings faded, but it still wasn’t the heart-hammering rush she’d once experienced. The one she still craved with every fiber of her being.
“That first night we met, when I saw you breaking into the VIP room at The Texas Player’s Club, I had every intention of taking you home. For about five seconds. When I saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you...” He stopped and shook his head. “Every person in that room felt that connection, Ryans. I knew I didn’t stand a chance.”
The bourbon on his breath combined with the power of his words was conjuring a memory she couldn’t handle. Causing parts of her to tingle, confusing the hell out of her.
Her eyes began to sting. She clutched Steven’s hips and shook her head. “He doesn’t want me anymore. I don’t know that he ever really did.”
“He did. He just…I don’t know. I wish I knew how to make it better for you, but I don’t. But he knew he needed help and he went and got it. Can’t fault a man for that.”
“So how do I move on? How do I get help for what I need?” She knew it wasn’t fair to demand answers from Steven. But he’d known Trace longer than she had. Surely he knew something.
He stared at her long and hard. She didn’t miss it when his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Tell me something. If I take you back to my place tonight, if we do things to each other that you’ve never even said out loud, who will you be thinking of in the morning? Me? Or him?”
Breathing was suddenly a feat more challenging than she was capable of. She swallowed hard and stared up at him. She could change everything. Right now. This was one of those moments where the whole story that was her life could go in a direction she’d never expected.
She could say, “You. I’d be thinking of you.” She could wake up tomorrow and Trace Corbin wouldn’t be the last person—the only person—she’d ever slept with. But then she’d be lying. To Steven and to herself.
She’d felt nothing for nine long months. Until he appeared on her doorstep, bringing everything back and taking it all away in a matter of seconds. Afterwards, she’d blamed herself for his return to rehab—convinced herself that they really weren’t good for one another, as Trace had once tried so hard to explain. She’d thought she’d finally moved on for good.