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If even that.
When he didn’t respond right away, she figured this was it. She’d told Ethan not to wait for her before going home, and now West was going to say “it’s been real” and send her on her way.
She wouldn’t blame him, of course. They’d spent all evening together, and it was the middle of the night. He hadn’t even gotten to take a shower after his crazy set onstage. He was probably sweaty and worn out.
Maybe even afraid she’d want to collect on her orgasm request.
He seemed like a great guy, but she didn’t want to put the whole virgin thing on his head. One of the few men she’d dated had explained the whole “first time” thing carried a lot of weight. If a woman waited to have sex, that meant she had attached certain expectations to the act. Probably emotion too. So the guy she ultimately banged would worry she would get all heart-eyed afterward and make the encounter more than it actually was.
That might be true for so-called normal women. As for her, she just was curious about sex. She wasn’t going to fall in love with the first guy who managed to get her off.
Maybe give him a tiny medal or something, but not fall in love. Did she look like a walking cliché? Hell to the no.
She was a liberated woman, who at this very moment was gazing longingly at the man who had bought her a satin pink jacket and now held the fate of her libido in his hands.
No big.
“It’s okay if you want to end the night here.” She bent down to adjust her shoe. If she didn’t have blisters on both feet, it would be a miracle.
The up side was she’d sort of learned to walk in the buggers over the course of the evening. At least he hadn’t made fun of her for stumbling around.
“Actually, I don’t. I’d like for you to come back to the bus.”
Still bent over, she glanced up at him. “Your tour bus?”
His lips twitched. “No, my Greyhound. Yes, the tour bus. Is—what about the guy you’re with?”
“What about him?”
“I figure he’s looking for you.”
“I told him I was fine. I’ll talk to him again in the morning.” She regained her full height and aimed a pointed look at his pocket. “Assuming you return my phone.”
“We’ll see. I’ll probably let you go home eventually.”
She shouldn’t like the sound of that. “Well, since my ride is gone and I’d have to cab or bus it back with oh, probably thirty-one dollars and eleven cents in my pocket, I’d say don’t rush on my account.”
He frowned. “I’ll give you money to get home after.”
“After what? Sexual intercourse?”
“You need to work on your vocabulary. Try calling it fucking more often. Sounds hotter. And no,” he added, taking her hand and tugging her up the street. “I’m not inviting you back to the bus just to get you naked.”
“Aww.” She hurried to keep up with him, grimacing at the pinch in her toes and her abraded heels.
“You’ve gotta be the most honest woman I’ve ever met.” He glanced back. “What’s wrong with your shoes?”
“I hate them and want to leave them in the road to be flattened by a semi. Otherwise, they’re awesome. I don’t suppose you could carry me back to the bus? I could repay you in probably sloppily done oral favors, but the effort would be there.”
“Has to be the sexiest offer I’ve ever received.” His grin blazed through the darkness. Between that and his warm fingers curling around hers, she almost didn’t care that it was starting to rain.
Again.
They hurried through the darkened, rain-splattered streets back to where they’d started. As the arena swam into focus, she couldn’t squelch her groan. “Are we there yet?”
“Surprisingly close. You can take a shower and put on slippers when we get to the bus. Molly has extras. She does lots of pedicure thingies.”
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled you pay such little attention to her beauty routine.”
