Twisted(12)

A satisfied smile drifted across his lips before he looked back down at her notebook. “Doesn’t mean we had sex.”

Curiosity ate at her while she gnawed on her nail. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t going to show him her other notebook. She’d taken some guesses at what the “not sex” stuff was and her songs weren’t exactly fit for church. They made her squirm a bit but she’d had to get the words down. “So she’s not your girlfriend?”

“I just said she wasn’t.” He closed her notebook and returned it to her, along with the Stratocaster. “Do you have a melody for ‘Captured’ yet?”

“No.”

“Let’s figure one out.”

“Does that mean you liked the lyrics?”

He fingered his own guitar, plucking the strings with a deftness she both envied and admired. “I liked them,” he said simply. He lifted his head and caught her gaze with his. “Let’s get to work.”





CHAPTER SIX

Now



Finally.

Gray pushed his hands into her crazy braids. Her soft mouth tasted of rum. Of everything he’d ever wanted and told himself he shouldn’t take.

Before now.

He tried not to rush, to let the moment spin out naturally. But when she moaned and parted her lips, inviting his tongue inside, he couldn’t resist. He wrapped her hair around his wrist, dragging her up off the stool until she was half standing against him, her full breasts pressed to his chest. Her nipples imprinted his flesh even through their clothes. She wanted this. Wanted him, even if it was because she was a little tipsy and more than a little pissed. Her nails clawed down his side as she sucked on his tongue with an urgency that matched his own.

Come with me. Be with me. The words clamored loudly in his head. He was so tired of fighting his feelings for her. If it was wrong, if he’d go to hell for this, at least he’d take them on a long, hot ride through heaven first.

He eased back a fraction and dragged in a breath, already diving back down when the singe in his nostrils registered. The moments before he’d walked into the bar flashed through his mind in stark Technicolor.

Face close to a mirror, eyes shut. Too many memories crowding his head until he inhaled, slow and deep, and they all faded away. The high rushing through his veins, filling the vast, empty spaces that had gone to rot inside him.

No. God, no. He couldn’t let that filth touch her.

You’re the filth.

He shut his eyes and dug his fist into his forehead. Already the rush was receding, the edges of his consciousness blurring as reality encroached. The warmth that had exploded inside him from her kiss wouldn’t last long.

She’d been about to kiss Nick when he showed up. Fucking Nick. That was the truth. More proof of what he’d never been able to accept.

Jazz would never be his. And now he’d made it so he didn’t even deserve her.

Her sleepy blue eyes opened and she blinked, clearly confused why he’d stopped. Her lips were swollen and wet. So wet. “Gray?”

His hand was still embedded in her hair, fisting it at the root. He pulled it away, unsurprised when a tangle of rainbow-streaked dark strands snarled in his fingers. He must’ve hurt her. Again.

God, not again.

His gaze shot to hers and he swallowed hard at the hazy desire reflected back at him. He’d never been good enough for her, and he sure as hell wasn’t now.

“That’s enough. Party’s over.” The sharp female voice cut through the crash of noise in his head. He hadn’t even realized that the people around them had quieted. It was still so loud in his brain. He pressed his fists against his ears and stumbled away.

Right into a coolly furious Lila.

“Easy.” She gripped his forearm to hold him still when he would’ve kept going and stared into his eyes for a beat too long. Her lips pursed. “Band meeting in five.”

Gray tried to process what she’d said. The words hung in the air between them, pulsing with a meaning he didn’t get. What meeting? His vision wavered. Since when did she have three mouths? Jesus, she looked like a Venus flytrap with bright white teeth, ready to bite.

Someone bumped his shoulder, hard. “Oh Jesus. Right fucking now?” Nick. Naturally. “It’s New Year’s fucking Eve—”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Crandall.” Lila’s focus whipped to Nick for a fraction of a second, though she didn’t release Gray. Good thing, because he wasn’t entirely sure he could’ve remained standing if she had.

What had been in Cricket’s shit tonight? He’d taken an extra hit, yeah, but he’d done this much before. He’d just wanted a little extra buzz to get him through the party.