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His fingers travel up the inside of my thigh.
I should stop him.
No, don’t.
Higher. Yes. God, yes. Do.
No, don’t. I’m really going to stop him.
The words get stuck in my throat. And the next thing I know, his fingers are stroking me. Up and down, over the thin material of my night pants, but it feels incredible nonetheless. The way he watches me so intently, with so much desire in his eyes, shoots through me and I can feel my wetness grow.
Oh, God.
His fingers find my clit and he rubs small circles, the lace of my panties causing just enough friction that I think I might actually be able to come with only his fingers on me through my pants.
“Oh god.”
“Feel good?” His voice is hoarse.
I nod and let my eyes flutter closed. Pressure inside me starts to build.
And build.
I’m so consumed, I can hear the sound of my own heartbeat pulsing loudly in my ears. Which is probably why I don’t hear the door open.
Luckily, Flynn does and his hand is gone.
“Why are you up so damn early? Come back to bed.” Dylan’s sleepy voice jolts me from my pre-orgasmic haze, like I’d just stuck my finger on a live wire.
I almost choke trying to speak—my mouth is suddenly so dry. “Umm…I couldn’t sleep.”
Dylan looks from Flynn to me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Come on, I’ll wear you out until you’re tired enough to sleep for a few more hours.”
Not knowing what the hell to say or do, definitely feeling guilty as hell, I nod.
“Excuse me,” I say with a shaky voice to Flynn. For a second I panic that he’s not going to move, that everything is going to blow up in my face. Flynn turns and catches my eyes, searching for something. His jaw clenches and then he stands to let me out. I feel his cold stare following me the entire way back to my room.
I try to get a minute alone with Flynn the rest of the day, but he’s either very sleepy or intentionally avoiding me, because he spends the remainder of the bus trip in his sleeper. I’m pretty certain it’s the latter, only I have no idea how to fix things. Well, that’s not exactly true. I know how Flynn would have me fix things. Me, on the other hand, I’m not sure what it is I want to fix. My stomach churns with a mix of guilt and grief. I don’t trust my own judgment anymore. From the moment I laid eyes on Dylan so many years ago, I fell deeply. But my feelings have never grown. Whereas, every day I fall a little deeper for Flynn. Do I really not know the difference between infatuation and love at twenty-five?
The sun is quickly disappearing behind the city skyline as we arrive in Austin, and everyone is anxious to get off the bus, especially Flynn. We pull into a spot and Flynn hops off the bus and walks toward a car parked a few spots over. A guy gets out and the two bear hug, slap each other on the back a few times, and then promptly disappear.
“You ready?” Dylan’s been curt with me since this morning. I went back to the room, but I just couldn’t bring myself to fool around with him. Not after Flynn’s hands were on me. It’s not the first time I’ve rejected Dylan’s attempts over the last few days and he’s beginning to grow impatient.
“Sure.”
“Do you have everything? The bus can’t park here tonight, so you won’t be able to come back and search for a pair of heels, or whatever it is you forget this time, after we get out.”
“I have everything. Wait. Do I need heels?”
Dylan rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, Lucky. What do you normally wear to a club?”
“A club?”
“Yeah. A club. I told you earlier, but you weren’t paying attention. Again. A friend of Flynn’s owns a club in Austin and is going to rope off an area for us. So bring shoes, or whatever other shit you’re going to need.”
Great. Just great. I can’t wait. A night out on the town with not one, but two men who are angry with me.
The Capitol may be the largest nightclub I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something, having grown up in New York and traveled half my life with my dad’s band. During the day I would bet people pass right by the unremarkable building and assume it’s just an old warehouse. But the line that stretches all the way across the front of the club and disappears around the side tonight is a testament to its popularity. If this place is at capacity, the rest of the bars and clubs in the city of Austin must be empty.
Easy Ryder’s security breezes us from the dark SUV directly into the club, skipping the line that people are waiting on and causing a murmur of interest as we pass. Inside, the first floor has a live rock-and-roll band, a tremendous dance floor, and bars outlining almost the entire expansive perimeter. Looking up, I see two more floors, a balcony wrapping around each, protected by a wall of glass. People mill around, watching the crowd dance beneath them. Men who resemble tree trunks guard the entrance to the upper levels.
All the guys from Easy Ryder and their dates, except Linc and Flynn, pile into an elevator, and we’re escorted to a glass room on the second floor above the dance floor. It’s truly glass—the floor, the walls, everything. I look down and watch a mob of people swaying on the dance floor. Distracted, I don’t notice the guy I saw pick up Flynn outside of the bus today walk in. He takes one look at my face and smiles, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. “It’s one way…they can’t see up your skirt.”
I look around the room—there’s a bar in the corner, a couple of guys who look vaguely familiar, but no sign of Flynn. Lydia, Mick’s wife, walks over and hooks arms with me. “You look like someone ran over your dog.” I’ve met Lydia a few times. She’s smart, sarcastic and has zero filter—if it pops into her head, it comes out her mouth. She’d get along great with Avery. I’m actually looking forward to introducing them tomorrow night at the show.
“I’m just tired. Haven’t slept so good.”
“Life on the road is tough.” She looks over at Mick and Dylan. “Even tougher with moody assholes like them.” We both laugh. “C’mon, Lucky. Let’s go live a little. These old bastards are going to stand around and drink beer. I see a cute bartender with shot glasses and a dance floor calling our name.”
I do one shot for every two that Lydia does; the two I drink have my head spinning and yet she seems perfectly fine after her four. I’ve got to be the biggest lightweight to ever own a bar.
An hour later I’m on my second fruity drink. The music is pumping and I feel it in my veins. Or perhaps it’s the alcohol. Either way, it flows through me, taking away all my worries. The crowd downstairs has thickened, the music has changed from rock to more of an R&B. Bodies sway with a sensual vibe.
“Come on. Let’s go dance.” Lydia grabs my hand. We stop by the booth that Dylan and Mick are sitting at. Mick waves off his wife, not caring where she’s going. Dylan, on the other hand, gives me a look of annoyance.
“Why don’t you come with me, then?” I yell over music that seems to have gotten louder since we started talking.
“Go. But save some of your energy for me later,” he says. I’ve feigned everything from tired to a headache the last few days every time he’s tried to get intimate.
Down on the dance floor, the music is so loud that I can’t even hear myself think. Which is exactly what I need. A new song with an incredible beat fills the air and I start moving my body, letting the music take control of my mind.
