I lean down closer, her rose and honey scent filling my lungs and scattering my brain, andfuckif I’m not addicted already.
“I may own this bar,” I whisper, my cheek brushing against her hair. “But tonight it belonged to you.”
Her breath stutters, and a brief flash of something passes over her features. Barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it—which I am. Her pulse flutters visibly at her throat. My hands twitch with the urge to lean in and test how far that little tremble runs.
“Enjoy your night, Kat.” I let the aftermath of my words hang in the air as I make my way towards the exit, my cherry red Mustang waiting for me.
As I step into the car, away from the intoxicating aura of her, I feel like I finally have my senses back. I hit the gas pedal and make my way towards Delirium.
I’ve built an entire empire out of control. Tonight, a girl with a guitar exposed a crack in it.
And I can’t decide whether I want to seal it, or break it wide open.
Eight
Kat
Deliver Us from Evil – Bullet For My Valentine
“But tonight, it belonged to you.”
Those six words replay in my head, like a projector stuck on repeat at the movie theater. My entire body locked up when they left his mouth, but I couldn’t tell whether it was a form of primal fear… or primal need. And honestly, I know which scenario I’m more afraid of.
He’d leaned in so close, his tobacco and cedar scent overwhelming my senses like a flash mob. The sensation of his warm breath against my cheek sent shockwaves that pooled low in my belly—shockwaves that still haven’t left. The most alarming part of it all was how much I wanted to follow him as he walked away. Like a well-trained puppy.
When I came to Bridgeport, I vowed never to let another person have that level of control over my mind, and it’s alarming how easily he’s wormed his way in. My hand strays to my throat, the familiar texture of the chain soothing my nerves—if only slightly. If I’m honest, I haven’t felt calm in days… weeks, even. I’ve worked fucking hard for my life here. No one is going to take that away from me, especially not a breathtakingly beautiful man in a suit.
A breathy groan leaves my throat, and I clench my thighs together, trying to relieve the ache building there. I down my fifth Jack and Coke, the warm buzz building, my head beginning to feel lighter. I can’t let him in. I can’t let the control I’ve worked so damn hard to grasp be given to someone else. I have to stay away. How I’m going to do that when he’s technically my fucking boss now, I don’t know. But that’s a problem for another day—tonight I need to focus on enjoying the small victory of not getting booed off stage.
The crowd seemed toloveus. The energy as we stepped off stage didn’t fade—we were bombarded with high-fives and “great job.” I walked through the crowd with my head held the highest it’s been in years, despite a few hands reaching out to try to clap me on the shoulder or pull me for a selfie. Those made me recoil, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that. Thankfully, Harper was right there, diverting attention away from me.
I signal to the bartender for another drink. It’s not Finn. It’s another guy—just as young, but I think he’s new. I’m pretty sure at least one of my drinks tasted like brandy instead of whiskey. As I wait for my mystery drink, I glance over to Harper, who’s draped around Nathan as he whispers something in her ear. She throws her head back and giggles playfully. Luca left not long after our set ended. Ryland is over in the corner, talking to a group of girls, drumsticks twirling in his fingers.
I shake my head and stifle a laugh into the back of my hand as my drink arrives. I don’t mind being by myself, I think I fucking needed it. Depending on who you ask, the stage can feel like the best place in the world or completely smothering. I’m definitely on the side of smothering. So it’s nice to take a few minutes for myself.
I take a long sip of the sweet, woody poison, and I scan the thinning crowd. It’s almost midnight—last calls will be soon.As my eyes roam across the room, I’m drawn to a pair of eyes looking at me over his drink. His sandy blonde hair meticulously styled, not a hair out of place. He definitely wasn’t in the pit during our set. He’s wearing a Megadeth shirt with that fresh, newly bought shine on the print still clear.
He catches me looking back and makes his way over.
Shit.
I avert my eyes through instinct. My heartbeat increases as I flip my necklace between my fingers. I should have left after my second drink. Fuck Ryland for talking me into staying.
“Hey,” he says as he comes to stand in front of me. “I’m Kirk.”
He has his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants, which look brand new. Across the room, he looked younger. But up close, he’s much older than I first thought. Across the room, he looked about twenty-one. He’s maybe thirty-five, if not older. His lips are curled into a smirk. It doesn’t look effortless, like Elias’s does. It definitely looks like he studied videos of hot men and practiced this look in front of a mirror. I press my lips to the back of my hand to keep from laughing in his face.
Oh right. He introduced himself.
I open my mouth to speak, but pause as I look at his face. His eyes are darker now and roam over every part of my exposed skin. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth, which I can now see are slightly yellowing. He has a five o’clock shadow, but it’s in patches over his jaw and cheeks, not full like Elias’s… Fuck. Get it together, Kat.
He steps closer to me, his thighs now inches from my knees.
Ah. This is going to be one ofthoseconversations.
“I’m Kat,” I reply.
He’s tall enough—maybe an inch or so taller than I am. He clinks his glass against mine, and I fight hard to contain an eye-roll. Can he just fuck off already? I don’t really have Harper’s penchant for kicking guys to the curb yet—I guess I haven’t had enough practice. Maybe Kirk is a good first contender.
