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“Nothing. We were good when I left this morning.” I frowned, following her every move.
“Well now you’re not. She’s cute. Not what I expected though.”
“You shouldn’t have been expecting anything.”
Not about her.
He chuckled, refilling his glass, tossing it back before he responded. “She kept you out all night, I definitely had an expectation. I’m not mad at it though. It’s funny as shit that you fucked up already. Usually takes a minute for them to realize you don’t care enough to appreciate or acknowledge the time they invest in being mad with you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I cut my eyes at Kaliq who was now doing the same thing I had just been doing, watching Cadence.
“It means, you live the image. Pretty boy, artist, deep and too disconnected to care about anybody enough to give them a reason to want to stay around.”
“And what about Journee?”
Journee Lanier. She and I had a thing. A very abstract thing. She was an artist I did a feature for a few years back. It helped her career and although the label paid me for the feature she’d paid me by hopping on my dick multiple times.
She was a good person but damaged and struggling. The label needed to sell her wholesome image but she was living a lie, being who they needed her to be.
I gave her the opportunity to exist in a space with no judgement or expectation. Things worked because neither of us wanted more than the surface shit that we were both offering.
“Journee doesn’t give a damn whether or not you care about her. As long as she can tag you in pictures, sit on your dick whenever she wants, and toss your name out at clubs or during interviews she’s winning. She…” He tipped his empty glass toward Cadence before continuing. “Couldn’t give two fucks about any of that.”
She doesn’t.
When Cadence started toward the double doors she’d just come through less than half an hour ago, I was right behind her.
The idea of her not caring, or it being that easy to write me off, tugged at something raw in me. Who the fuck was I turning into?
A man that cared about a woman who he didn’t deserve…
“You can’t be back here.” She turned the minute I entered the dim hallway.
She had either expected me to follow or wanted me to. I wouldn’t disappoint. When I was close enough, I tugged her hips forward until her body was flush against mine.
“You want to tell me why I can’t get your attention and everybody else in here can?”
“I’m…”
“Working, yeah, I get that but there’s nobody back here needing refills or instructions about paying at the bar. Can I get five minutes of your time or is that too much to ask?”
“Two,” she countered and I lowered my head, gripped her chin, and tilted hers back.
“Good enough.” When I kissed her, she submitted. Her lips were soft and warm and eager. Her tongue conceded to mine, allowing me to take the lead and once I found my rhythm she joined in, settling into the kiss.
“Why were you avoiding me, Cadence?” I whispered lowly, pulling back enough to brush my mouth across hers.
“Because we were just supposed to be a moment. I can’t allow it to be anything more than last night.”
“Too late. We’re already more than just last night.”
“No, we’re not.” Her words contradicted the way her body was submitting so I pushed.
“You want me to leave you alone? I’ll give you anything you want. Any-fucking-thing, even space if that’s what you really want but you’ll have to convince me. Tell me to leave you alone, Cadence.”
“Leave me alone,” she whispered with no confidence. I smiled and lowered my mouth to hers, nipping her bottom lip.
“I said convince me. That was bullshit.”
