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“Forget it, man. I shouldn’t have snapped, been a long day, that’s all.”
“You sound different,” he said, stroking the stubble on his chin between his thumb and forefinger. I tried to reply but found my lips were so suddenly dry that they’d stuck together. I licked them slowly, unable to take my eyes of his fingers caressing his strong chin. Clearly, I’d had too much to fucking drink. “Your accent,” he added. “You’ve got an American twang to it. You use American words.”
“Well, my base is in L.A. When we’re not touring I spend all my time there. Guess some of the lingo must’ve rubbed off on me. You sound just the same.” In fact if I were to close my eyes and listen to him speak, his voice could easily take me back to when we were seventeen.
“I am the same, Sawyer. And so are you.” I pursed my eyebrows, confused by the obvious hidden meaning in his tone. “You’re still afraid.”
“Afraid?” I questioned, my voice breaking as it fought past the lump in my throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jake stood, stepped around the glass coffee table and perched on the end of it so our knees were almost touching. My heart stopped, my head swam, and my mouth was coated in sandpaper.
“Admit that being this close to me is affecting you,” he challenged.
“Don’t do this, Jake,” I croaked – my voice weak and uncertain. “Not again.”
Just when I thought he was about to lower his hands onto my knees, my breath hitched and he stood from the table.
“I know you, Sawyer. Always have, always will.” Bizarrely, I didn’t doubt that, and it unnerved me. “I’m not letting you go a second time.”
“You can’t be serious. This is a fucking joke right?” Anger forced me to my feet. Jake is an inch or two taller than me so I straightened my back, forcing my eyes to his level. “And did you tell my team about your little obsession with me, huh? When you applied for this job? You’d be out on your ass by sunrise if I told them.”
“But you won’t,” he said confidently, and I wanted to punch the smug bastard for being right. We were just inches apart – so close I could feel his breath swim over my face. I had to swallow down the nonsensical lump of emotion swelling in my throat before I could respond. He was right – he was affecting me. And damn if that didn’t make me hate my own fucking guts.
“No, I won’t. If you stop this shit now, keep things professional, then there should be no problem.”
Why did he have to start this shit up again? He’d ruined our friendship once before and now, just as I started to believe we could get that friendship back, he decides he’s intent on ruining it again.
“You will be mine, Sawyer Knight. The faster you try to run the quicker you’ll fall to your knees. Then, Sawyer… then you’ll be too weak to resist.”
“You’re drunk.” He had to be. No sane or sober person would say shit like that on the first day of a new job…or any day, ever. “We’ve had too much to drink. Go back to your room, Jake.”
“Yes, I am drunk,” he admitted. Thank fuck. “But the only factor that plays in this, is that it’s given me the courage to speak my sober thoughts out loud.”
“Jake…” it came out as practically a whimper. I wanted to beg him, plead with him not to keep pushing this, pushing me. I’ll never be who he wants me to be. Everyone wants something different from me and I gave up trying to please them all a long time ago. Am I hiding the real me? Maybe. I wouldn’t even know who the real me is anymore. Whoever he was, he died the day my career was born.
“Goodnight, Sawyer,” he breathed, leaning in to whisper straight into my ear – so close his soft stubble grazed mine for just a second. It was long enough to take my breath away, and then I closed my eyes, refusing to open them until I heard the door close after him.
I can’t deal with this shit now. Trying almost destroyed me once before and so I’m sure as shit not going to put myself through that again. Flopping back onto the plush couch, I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was going to do.
“Hey, Jim,” I greeted, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Blonde or brunette?” he interrupted. Of course he knew why I was calling. There was only ever one reason I called him so late at night, and that was when I needed to distract myself for a couple of hours. I’d barely opened my mouth to say ‘either’ when there was a knock on the door to my suite.
“Never mind,” I snapped down the line before hastily ending the call. Then, getting up from my seat and fixing my robe in place, I walked over to the door, sucking in a breath as I prepared to rip whoever it was a new asshole.
“You didn’t text,” Elle scolded, brushing past me and waltzing straight over to the plush couches. Pete, another member of our security team, and the one who’d clearly escorted Elle to my room, gave me a firm nod before disappearing down the hall.
“Sorry,” I muttered, sighing as I kicked the door closed behind me.
“Come sit with Aunty Elle,” she cooed with that bright smile of hers as she patted the couch next to her. She wore her long, blonde hair up today. Perfectly styled of course, which is why she is the band’s head stylist on our UK tour dates, and the occasional European leg if she can leave the salon. Elle went into hairdressing on a whim after leaving college. It sparked an interest in her she didn’t know was hiding, and within just two years of getting her NVQ she opened her own salon in London.
