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“I was flirting withbothof them. Not just him,” I say, crossing my arms.
“What . . .”
It’s actually kind of funny to see Brenner Reindhart the Great reduced to that one little word. I enjoy leaving him a stuttering mess more than I’d like to admit to myself.
“I was taking thembothto bed, Bren. Not just him. Thanks for the cunt-block,” I say and roll my eyes.
He spins around to take a look out the glass door, but the couple is long gone, so he turns once again to me. He blinks, then looks at the spot where the couple had been sitting. “Both of them?” he asks.
Bren stands there, rooted to the ground, unsure what to say next. My anger doesn’t soften my features, and eventually, he lets his shoulders droop.
“Look,” he says. “For some reason, I always say the wrong thing to you. The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. I was serious before—I’d like to spend time with you. Get to know you—that’s all. No expectations. I promise. And I’ve been feeling really guilty about how things ended last time. I overreacted. You’re right. You were perfectly clear about what it was to you.”
I unfurl my arms and offer a light smile at his admission. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“That said, is there any way I can change your mind? Persuade you just to get to know me? That’s all. I’m going to be spending the week here before our next concert. I’d like to spend it with you. If it doesn’t work out, or you don’t enjoy my company, I’ll go on with my tour, and you’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t know . . .” I say, unsure I want the chaos that I’m sure will come if I were to be spotted with the rock god.
“What’s stopping you?”
“You are,Tonto.”
“What does that mean?”
I smile but say nothing.
Bren shakes his head and chuckles, and I realize too late I am offering him hope.
“Bren, that’s three times now you’ve been demanding or possessive of my time. Backstage, you threw a fit because I dared take an important text from work. Our night together—well, I don’t have to repeat our hurtful words, but then tonight, you come in here ready to pummel a guy because I was flirting—”
“I wasn’t going to hit him!”
“It looked like you were.”
“I didn’t say I didn’twantto hit him, but I wouldn’t have acted on it.”
“See? You’re making my point for me. I’m not property. I don’t like to be owned or possessed. And I have a strong feeling that’s what you want to do.”
“If I promise to be on my very best behavior this week, and I don’t show up at the bar unannounced, would you please agree to spend some time with me?” He smiles, and it looks so out of place on his beastly physique.
I shift my weight from one leg to the other. Ileana’s words echo through my mind.You like him.You aren’t used to being picked.Damn her. Is she right? Do I like him more than any other person I’ve ever gone to bed with? The very fact that I am asking these questions is the answer.
The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about our night together, and not just because his body was built for mine. It’s his voice, and the way it sent goosebumps down my arms when he growled in my ear. Bren didn’t fuck me. He claimed me. And I’m disgusted with myself for inwardly loving his ownership of my body. One night. That’s all it took, and I gave myself over to him.
“Fine,” I say finally and watch as Bren lets out a long breath. “But if this doesn’t work out, you go on your tour, and you never contact me again. Got it?”
“I promise,” Bren says.
“What’re you doing tonight?” I ask.
“Other than grovel at your feet? Nothing.”
I smirk at him. “I went to a tasting this week and got a few bottles of a tequila not yet sold outside of Mexico. Would you like to try them?”
“I would love that,” he says, smiling.
As I make my way around the bar and grab the chilled bottles from the fridge, Bren settles on a seat. I place glasses by him, along with the bottles, and hop on the bar, swinging my legs around to go over it and sit next to him. I pour us each a shot of the blanco variety of the tequila first.
