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“Quiet.”
Sighing in exasperation, I place my chin on his shoulder again and he gives my leg a squeeze. He thinks the conversation is over. It’s not. I’m not letting him get away with it this easily. He doesn’t put me down until we’re standing on the porch and we walk into our dark house.
I turn on the switch and light flares. Getting out of my shoes and hanging up my satin coat, I creep over the carpet when I feel Stan’s hands around my waist.
His mouth is on my neck in an instance. “He touched you,” he murmurs heatedly, “I keep seeing him doing it over and over in my head. Inhaling you, putting his filthy hands on you...”
My pulse starts beating as always when my body feels him tracing it.
“Don’t torture yourself.” Our mouths meet, causing lust to prickle me from top to bottom. “It’s not worth it.”
“If he’d put a wedge between us I would have to walk straight out of that door and do something about it.”
My eyes flare in amazement. “T...there’s no wedge.”
“Good,” he rasps, “good for him.”
“But...” I say, wiggling out of his arms and it’s not the easiest thing in the world, “we still have to talk.”
“I can think of other things I want to do right now, other than talk.” He reaches for me, about to snatch me back to his chest but I jump out of his way.
“Let’s go sit in the living room,” I say and his eyes darken like he doesn’t want to do this. I pounce down on the couch but he doesn’t join me. He doesn’t even lean against the doorway.
Doesn’t even pretend to be relaxed, but stands as if on guard with his legs wide apart and his broad shouldered frame taking up much of the space.
“What happened tonight....” I try to find the right words, but then I just end up blurting, “I didn’t like it.”
He crosses his strong arms. “Noted.”
Inhaling, I cross my legs. “I need to know that you won’t do it again. That you won’t hurt someone just because they touch me, or stand too close to me. And you won’t, right?”
“I will. If they try to lay claim on you, then they only have themselves to blame.”
My mouth drops and I gawk. “He came from a record label!”
“Don’t care if he descended down from heaven itself. He touched you.”
He’s not budging. His mind is made up. Then Stan’s eyes narrow. “Why do you care so much about Davidos?”
I jerk. “What?”
“Do you have feelings for him?” Stan walks over to me, gently clasping my chin. “Do you? Do you daydream about Davidos signing you, making you a star and you then eagerly giving your body to him when he wants something in return?”
The thought alone is revolting and makes my stomach turn. Why would Stan even think that? There’s nobody for me but him.
Shaking my head I murmur, “I only have feelings for you.”
That seems to compose him. An angelic smile graces his face and it almost makes me gasp. He’s almost too bright to look at like this. Pure goodness shines out of his eyes. Tenderness. Love.
I swallow. Underneath all his flaws, there’s so much light in him. Light that I sometimes feel like I’m the only who can see it. Like I’m the only one he shows it to.
“You need to know that,” I add. “I only want you.”
He closes those eyes, his mouth moving in a lopsided smile that makes me feel like he’s a wild creature who’s just rolled over to show me his underbelly. He’s not like this around other people, he’s only vulnerable with me.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” I say as he opens his eyes and removes his hand from my face.
“Ask me anything.”
