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She sauntered off, her heels clicking on the concrete in a slow, purposeful beat. Pike moved closer to Oakley. “I’m sorry about that. I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a dismissive lift of her shoulder. “It’s fine. I know how all this works. That’s why I can’t be a part of it. I’m not built for this. For you.” She cocked her head in the direction Holly had gone. “You don’t need to waste your time talking to me. You’ve already got someone who can give you what you want tonight.”
He frowned. “So you think it’s like that? Women are interchangeable.”
She smirked. “Aren’t they?”
The blow stung. Mainly because it was mostly right. Until now. For the first time in longer than he could remember it wasn’t about getting laid in general. This was very, very specific. And he had no idea what to do with that.
“I don’t want Holly or any of the rest of them. I want you.”
“And if I say no?”
“I go home alone.”
She scoffed. “Sure you do.”
He stared at her for a few long seconds, feeling the distrust roll off her. She truly thought that the minute she walked out, he’d bed Holly or some other random chick. He had no idea how to prove otherwise because she certainly wasn’t letting him go home with her. And it’s not like he could lie and say he was looking for a relationship and maybe they should give it a try. He slept with a lot of women but never under false pretenses. He couldn’t give her what she needed.
At least not in that way.
But …
“Give me your phone,” he said, holding out his hand.
“What? Why?”
“Can you trust me just a little?”
She pressed her lips together and he waited for the no, but finally she dipped her hand into her purse and slapped the phone into his palm.
He smiled and took it over to the couch.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. I’m working here.” His thumbs moved over the on-screen keyboard.
“Pike.”
After a few minutes of typing and clicking, he stood and handed the phone back to her.
“What did you do?”
“Just added a few of our songs to your playlist. At least I can go home with you that way.” He leaned close to her ear. “Have a good night, Oakley.”
He kissed her cheek and walked away.
“So we’re done here?” she called to his back, confusion in her voice.
He smiled and waved.
Oh, we’re so not done here.
TWELVE
Oakley hated that she was listening to the music Pike had added to her phone. What was she? Twelve? A mixtape should not get her going like this. But lying on the couch in the dark with her headphones on, hearing the songs he’d chosen drift through her ears, had this intimacy to it, like a private conversation.
He’d chosen a mix of songs, some from his band, most from other artists. All had a dark, sexy edge to them. Visceral beats. Nothing romantic. If dirty, sweaty sex could be put into music, this was the soundtrack. And her body hadn’t missed the memo. With every heavy, pulsing beat, her blood pumped and her skin tingled.
