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Her tongue tentatively touched his lip, and he came completely undone, his admittedly limited self-control scattering like dandelion fluff in a hurricane. He devoured her mouth, drawing on the fiery heat of the passion he knew she kept hidden just beneath the surface.
She moaned, the sound deep and aching. Her lips parted to allow him to taste her.
He needed her completely bare before him. Not just the body he so desperately craved, but her heart, her soul, her thoughts and dreams. He wanted all of her out in the open, free and uninhibited. No constraints or limitations. No fear.
Her hand pressed against his chest, and she pulled her mouth from his. “We can’t do this.”
“You don’t want me?” He knew she did. He was prepared to call her a liar and prove to her that she did.
“So much. Too much.” She stood, her chair skittering across the floor behind her at the haste in the motion. “But I can’t get involved with you, Aimes.” She smoothed his hair back and kissed his brow. “Stay beautiful,” she whispered before backing away.
And she fucking left him there, with a hard dick, an aching heart, and half a cold steak on a colder plate.
Seven
Why am I so fucking stupid? Roux clutched the bottom of her corset and allowed herself another glimpse of Steve, who was currently in the satellite radio studio rocking out with his drumstick against a wooden block as Exodus End played an acoustic version of “Bite” for the station’s lucky listeners.
“Don’t look so depressed,” Iona said, nudging Roux in the ribs with her elbow. “The station couldn’t get a piano for you to play under such short notice and, well, a keyboard isn’t technically acoustic, so you can’t play that. And that xylophone suggestion?” Iona cringed. “Yeah, no.”
Roux wished not being able to play during their live acoustic satellite radio spot was the reason she was miserable, but that was just disappointing. She was utterly depressed because she’d done the sensible thing last night and walked away from that beautiful, sexy, shockingly sensitive drummer instead of taking him for a long, invigorating, undoubtedly satisfying test ride.
When she’d said hi to him earlier, he hadn’t even looked at her. He probably thought she was a cock tease, a frigid bitch, or worse, not interested. She glanced around the small booth at her sisters/bandmates and reminded herself that she’d pushed Steve away for their sakes. The last thing Baroquen needed was trouble on this tour, and she had no doubt that getting involved with Steve would bring nothing but trouble, trouble that she would willingly embrace if she were the only one who would face the consequences. But she wouldn’t risk repercussions harming any of her sisters. The unaware bitches had better appreciate her sacrifice!
Roux squeezed her eyes shut, her false eyelashes digging uncomfortably into her eyelids. She wished she’d gotten some sleep last night. She was feeling more than a little testy this morning.
I should have just fucked him before I walked away. Why didn’t I?
She had no answers to that question. She’d hooked up with a few guys in the past. It wasn’t a big deal. She wasn’t the type who expected lasting commitment from a quick and dirty fuck, but she’d connected with the ass. Liked him. That was why she wouldn’t have been able to hook up with him just once. And hell, in less than a month she’d be on foreign soil and have to see him every night while they were on tour. She would get to see him, wouldn’t she? She glanced into the studio again and about choked on her tongue when she caught him staring at her. He quickly looked away and said something insulting to Logan, which the host found hilarious.
“Maybe it’s the hangover talking,” Azura said, wincing, “but I think Steve has the hots for Roux.”
Only Raven knew Roux had gone to his room last night. Only Raven knew she’d returned way too early and without sealing the deal.
“It’s the hangover,” Roux assured her. Azura didn’t even remember Steve carrying her upstairs. Or puking her guts out into a plastic bucket in the limo.
“He does keep looking at her when she’s not paying attention,” Sage said.
“He totally has a hard-on for you,” Iona said. “Like literally.”
Roux caught him adjusting the crotch of his jeans, and yeah, looked like Iona was correct. So why had he completely blown her off when she’d greeted him earlier?
Because he’s sensitive and easily hurt, her subconscious whispered to her. Nah. That couldn’t be the reason. He was just horny because he hadn’t had sex with five different women in the past three hours. Or maybe he had.
Not that she cared.
Ugh, why did she insist on lying to herself about the man?
She told herself he wasn’t worth the time or effort, when he was so worth it.
She told herself she wasn’t interested in any relationship with him—serious or casual—when she wanted any relationship with him as long as she could be near him.
She told herself musicians were notoriously unfaithful and that she shouldn’t believe his story about being jilted by his ex-wife, when she had believed every word of it. Still believed it.
Roux scowled and turned her back to the large window that looked into the sound booth. If she couldn’t see him, maybe she’d stop obsessing over him. Yeah, right.
At least she was too worried about trying not to worry about Steve to be nervous. She wouldn’t be able to play during the segment, but she sang duet with Iona on most of the choruses of Baroquen’s songs, so she wasn’t entirely off the hook.
“I heard you won’t be playing your ridiculous keyboard during your band’s segment,” Steve said from behind her, his voice deep. “I guess you’ll have to stay out here with me.”
She conjured up some anger, when she wanted to do nothing more than melt into his heat. “My keyboard is not ridiculous.” She spun around and was blindsided by his cocky grin. She knew he was baiting her, but for what purpose? “And didn’t you just play a wooden block? Talk about ridiculous.”
But it hadn’t been ridiculous. Ridiculously amazing, perhaps, but . . . Damn him anyway.
“I do enjoy your fire, Red.”
He lifted his hand to touch her jaw, his thumb drawing slowly across her slightly parted lips. Well, if he enjoyed her fire, that little movement had definitely set her ablaze.
“After your segment, I have something for you.”
“If it’s in your pants, I don’t want any part of it,” she snapped, but she couldn’t hold his gaze, because she was lying worse than a politician.
He chuckled softly, the sound making her belly quiver. “It is in my pants, as a matter of fact, but don’t worry. I’ll take it out for you.”
Entirely flustered, she stammered, “A-as if!”
“I think your band is waiting for you to join them.”
Huh?
She turned to find the observation booth they’d been waiting in was now empty, with the exception of herself and Steve.
“You made me late.”
“I didn’t have to try very hard,” he called after her as she rushed out into the sound studio.
“Sorry,” she whispered, bobbing her head in the host’s direction. Wow, was that really her favorite disc jockey, Jack Bryant? He was even cuter in real life. Roux cringed over her bad form.
“No problem. We’re not live yet,” Bryant said, his voice excitingly familiar. Roux heard it on her favorite satellite radio station almost every day.
