Twisted(36)
His grin bordered on indulgent. “No kidding? That happens so rarely with you.”
“No, I mean something shocking. Like…platinum blonde.” She tipped her head to the side. “What do you think of that?”
He jerked a shoulder. “It’s a color.”
She frowned at his back as he disappeared into his bedroom. Really? That was his idea of a response?
“I might pierce my nipples and get a nose ring too,” she called, stepping back at his surprise reappearance in the doorway.
“You’ve pierced enough of yourself, don’t you think?” He moved into the hallway, forcing her backward.
Hmm. Which piercing was he thinking of? “You mean my ear piercings?” she asked coyly, flipping back her hair. He’d definitely gotten to know her clit piercing too. Briefly. So freaking briefly.
He hoisted his duffel higher and clutched his guitar in one hand, pulling the door shut with the other. “Yeah.”
Wow. Seriously? She was trying to act flirty and even directing his attention toward sexual areas—nipples, clits, come on—and nada. “I’m pierced other places too.”
“Uh-huh. So did you need something? I think we’re supposed to head downstairs soon.”
She grabbed his arm before he could start down the stairs. “I wanted to know if you had the address for the cabin yet,” she said in a low voice, keeping an eye on the hallway. The last thing she needed was for someone to overhear her setting up an illicit tryst.
“No. We won’t know until we get there, and that’s if they even tell us where we are. Much mystery afoot.” He flashed her a distracted smile and adjusted his grip on his guitar.
“When you find out the address, text me.”
“Why?”
Jazz sent up a quick prayer that she wouldn’t be soundly rejected. “So I can, um, pay you a visit.” She tossed her hair. “You know. At night.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
“Yes, I’m fine. Jeez. Just text me, okay?” She gave him a light shove down the stairs. Clearly she needed to adjust her plan of attack, because her casual flirtiness didn’t seem to be having much of an effect.
“Okay. Fine.” He backed down the steps, smiling up at her in that way that caused her belly to twist like a knotted up Slinky. “Have fun getting girly.”
“I’m already girly, you jerk.” She grinned and waved, waiting until he turned around to descend the stairs to cover her stampeding heart with her hand.
This had to get easier. If it didn’t, she’d stroke out before she managed to get naked.
A moment later, Deak yelled up the stairs. “Pix? Car’s here. You ready to go?”
“Coming,” she called, returning to her room for her stuff.
Here went everything.
* § *
His life had been circling the drain for a while. Today, Lila had flushed.
“So this is it, huh?” Nick strode across the living room of the rustic cabin where they’d be holed up together for way too long. “These are our luxury accommodations while the three glam girls get their toenails waxed?”
In spite of his dissatisfaction, Gray choked a laugh into his fist. “Two of those three glam girls would kick your ass for saying that. And I don’t think toenails can get waxed.”
“Whatever. I can take Deak and Simon.”
“I meant Deak and Jazz. I think Simon would probably correct you for mixing up your metaphors then show you his manly manicure.”
Nick shook his head and ambled over to the giant fireplace that appeared to have been dug by hand out of the wall. He braced his hands on the mantel and dropped his head. “This really fucking blows.”
“Yeah.” Gray dropped into the nearest leather wingback chair and propped his guitar between his knees. “Have to agree.”
Nick turned away from the fireplace and prowled around the cabin while Gray popped open the case and pulled out his Epiphone. Though the drive from the Hollywood Hills hadn’t taken that long, he still felt too edgy to just calmly check out his new surroundings. He needed something to unkink the knots in his gut and distract him from the urge for a fix. He used to be able to go days between them. Now in less than twenty-four hours, he was jonesing again.
He’d hoped to get a hold of Cricket before the car arrived to pick them up, but Jazz had been talkative and Cricket hadn’t answered his texts quickly enough. When she had, she’d made it clear she’d be providing no more freebies.
If he didn’t pay up his past-due amounts—and/or fuck her brains out, which probably would buy him a week or two and another hit at best—he’d be cut off. And that couldn’t happen. He wasn’t about to put out feelers for another dealer when his name had already been thrown to the media wolves for the Jazz thing.