Rock Me

by Cherrie Lynn

  “Has she ever come in Dermamania?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “She’s been there. You were off that night. But she’s not a regular or anything.”

  “You don’t want to talk about her. Dude, I wish I could be like that. I dump my drama all over anyone who’ll listen whether I think they care or not.” She laughed. “But I like to listen to others. And I do give great advice. I’m renowned for it.”

  “She’s a sheltered virgin princess.”

  “You are so on your own right now.”

  “I figured.” He leaned forward on his arms and heaved a great sigh.

  She stared at him for several seconds, seeming to read something in his face, then leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Okay. Let’s break this down. Which bothers you most, the sheltered virgin part or the princess part?”

  “They both pretty much suck equally.”

  “Well, the virgin part can be easily taken care of. Then you won’t have that hanging over your head anymore, because the deed’ll be done. Unless she’s not willing to give it up, in which case I’d have to say you really are on your own with that one.”

  He shrugged.

  “But I sense she’s more than willing?”

  “She probably was.”

  “Then give the poor girl credit for knowing her own mind and take it, Brian. What is it about the fact that a girl hasn’t been handing her cooter out all over town that skeeves you guys out so much? I realize you feel pressured to make it good for her and all, but most likely? It’s gonna suck for her, it’s gonna hurt, but she doesn’t have anything to compare it to anyway, so you’re in the clear.” She rolled her eyes, taking a long drink before going on. “My first fucking time was in the backseat of his mom’s Ford Taurus in the parking lot at a high school football game. A cop busted us. At the time, I was glad he did. I aimed high, didn’t I?”

  He nursed his beer again, thinking back to his own. “If you can remember the guy’s name—or if you even knew it at all—then you’re one up on me.” He’d been fifteen and drunk. It hadn’t been with anyone he loved, or even had lukewarm feelings for. Just a random girl at the party who’d been willing to give it up to a horny teenager. He’d aimed pretty damn high himself.

  Starla was going on. “See, I wish I’d held on to it for a while like your girl. Some people have no regrets, but I do. So, props to her, Brian. I’ve never met her, but I think you’re really lucky, if she has her shit together like that.”

  “Well, you don’t know the whole story. She doesn’t have it completely together yet. But she is pretty incredible.”

  “She has you turned out, obviously, if you’re this worked up about it. Even if you guys don’t work out, you’ll at least leave her with fond memories. It’s more than a lot of us get.”

  “Problem is, I doubt it’ll ever happen. That’s where the princess part comes in. When I say her parents make Hitler look like Mother Theresa, I’m only being somewhat hyperbolic.”

  “Oh. Ohhh. That’s not good. She still lives with them?”

  “No. She’s got her own place, but she’s still under their thumb. She’s finishing up her junior year of college.”

  “So hang in there. Before long, she can graduate and get a good job and be able to pay her own way and tell her parents to fuck off.”

  “Yeah. If she would.” He wondered at that moment if Candace had never had sex before because deep in her mind, she worried that her parents would somehow find out. Maybe they’d struck such fear in her they were an omnipresent force in her life, like the Eye of Sauron or something. And that pissed him the hell off. He would call it outright abuse. It had probably done some psychological damage. He’d have lost his fucking mind, if he were her.

  He was probably catastrophizing. She had been more than willing last night. It had probably taken so much courage for her to allow it to happen, in opposition of everything she knew…and he’d shot her down.

  Images of her in her baseball caps and T-shirts, looking like anybody’s sweet kid sister, swam through his thoughts. She’d never had a man to tell her how beautiful and sexy and desirable she was, and when she’d finally found one, he’d said all the words but hadn’t followed through.

  Not only that, but he deserved the Asshole of the Year award for the way he’d treated her when he left. He hadn’t known how dire the situation was.

  That melting sensation was back in his chest. Either it was worse or the alcohol exacerbated it, because he felt as if his whole damn heart was about to spill out on the floor.

  He had to get out of here.

  “Starla, I need to jet,” he said, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw down enough cash to cover their drinks and a hefty tip.

  “Going to see her?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  She gave him a sly wink. “Well, I hope you two have a wonderful evening.”

  He returned her grin and stood from the barstool, only to sit his ass right back down when he saw who was in the booth nearest the door. “Holy shit. She’s here.”

  Starla gasped, sitting straight up. At least she didn’t whirl around to look. “Oh, no, I hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Did she see you?”

  “She wasn’t looking at me. Looks like she’s with someone.”

  “Well, go invite her over or something! So she knows this isn’t anything shady.”

  “Nah, it’s cool.” He really wasn’t worried about her getting the wrong idea about him. Who in the fuck was that guy sitting next to her?

  “This isn’t funny at all,” Michael fretted at Candace’s side. “You’re going to get my ass kicked, Candace.”

  “Oh, please. It won’t come to that, I promise.”

  Sam giggled from her seat across from them. “Hey, we’re three buddies out for a drink. Besides, he can’t say anything since he’s here with some other chick.” She threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. “Although I have to say that looks pretty platonic from where I’m sitting. You could fit a bulldozer between them. Still, it won’t hurt for him to get a teensy bit rattled.”

  “If he’ll bother,” Candace murmured.

  Michael shook his head. “It might hurt if he rattles me. Oh, shit, here he comes.”

  Candace fought down the desperate urge to look up. To gauge Brian’s expression. To see if she really needed to keep her body between him and Michael in the name of her good friend’s safety.

  “Michael,” Sam whispered. Although a whisper in here was practically a shout. “You should put your arm around her or something.”

  “So he can break it off?”

  “Man up, dammit,” Sam snapped, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She leaned across the table toward Candace. “No matter what happens here tonight, don’t you dare leave with him. You gave him a taste last night, now you want to make him sweat. The man hasn’t even taken you on a proper date yet.”

  She could excuse that. Brian just didn’t seem the dating sort. “I’m not into the whole hard-to-get thing,” she fretted.

  “Honey, that’s so freakin’ obvious, but this isn’t a game. Wanting what you can’t have is a fundamental of human nature.”

  Was that all her feelings for Brian were? Nothing more than a base reaction to the untouchable, the unattainable?

  Michael was still hung up on Sam’s previous comment. “Hey, I am a man. But getting the shit beat out of me so she can make some dude jealous does not a man make.”

  “Okay, shhh,” Candace hissed. She allowed herself to glance up then. Her gaze tangled with Brian’s as he approached, and she forced herself to school her facial expression to show only genuine surprise to be bumping into him. An oh-what-a-wonderful-coincidence look. Not an oops-I’m-caught-spying look.

  He didn’t seem to be trying to conceal any feelings at all. There wasn’t joy to see her. There wasn’t anger, either. Did he feel anything? He was so frustrating.

  “Hi,” she greeted as he reached them. He gave them a smile, but it was sc
arier than it was friendly. “Do you know my friends, Michael and Samantha? Guys, this is Brian.”

  The three of them exchanged greetings, and she thought Brian’s appraisal lingered on Michael longer than on Sam. Sizing him up. Michael seemed to notice it too, because his foot prodded hers hard under the table. She kicked him back.

  “It’s great to meet you,” Sam piped up, scooting over to make room for him in her booth. “Candace has told us a lot about”—Candace shot her a withering look—“about getting her tattoo. She said you did a great job. I’ve been thinking of getting something myself.”

  Brian’s gaze lingered on Candace even as he and Sam struck up a conversation. She felt it like a physical caress, though she didn’t dare to meet it directly. Anger still simmered in her blood. His blond companion had found her way over to the pool tables, chatting up a few of the guys shooting a game and occasionally swigging her beer. Candace could see her only from the back, except for when she turned to glance in the direction of the door and flashed a pretty, delicate profile. Lips to die for. She had different colors threaded through her hair. Her denim skirt was slung low enough on her hips to reveal what Macy would call a tramp stamp…and a peek of a thong of some indiscernible color. One of her legs had what looked like a gorgeous sunburst on the calf, but half of it was obscured by her black cowboy boot.

  Maybe he’d given her the tattoos. Maybe that’s the kind of girl he really wanted. They would make a beautiful couple, she thought miserably. She was something Candace could never be.

  “Here with your girlfriend?” she asked innocently, when the simmer threatened to turn into an outright boil.

  Sam’s eyes grew to the size of quarters. Brian had been saying something to Michael—who had relaxed considerably—but he calmly turned his attention back to her. She smoldered under the scrutiny of those blue eyes, and felt stirrings beneath her own micro mini-skirt that did not bode well for Sam’s directive not to leave with him. His hair looked so sinfully silky her fingers could still feel it sliding between them. Her lips could still feel the tickle of his goatee.

  Damn you, why do I have to want you so bad?

  He grinned as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “That’s Starla, one of my artists. She’s here to confront her on-and-off boyfriend about something, who the hell knows what.”

  “She can’t call him? Go to his house?”

  “Not when he won’t answer the phone or the door.”

  “Sounds like she’s stalking him, then.”

  “Hmm, doesn’t it? Stalking is such a deplorable thing.” His gaze leveled her, vaguely mocking, infinitely infuriating.

  Oh, the nerve! Was he actually insinuating…accusing her of…?

  Well, he was right, after all. She hadn’t called him. Hadn’t gone to his apartment. She’d followed him here. But to call her out on it! How dare he!

  It was official. She hated him.

  Brian nodded in the direction of the door. “Let’s go out and talk for a minute.”

  She hated him so much, her heart kicked into triple time after his suggestion. She shot Samantha a glance and read in the other girl’s face everything she wanted to say. Don’t leave with him. Do. Not. Leave. With. Him.

  “Fine.” She stood, resisting the urge to wipe damp palms on her skirt. Brian followed, leaving Sam and Michael staring up at them with knowing little smirks. Candace had one moment of satisfaction when Brian looked as if his eyes might roll out of his head at the sight of her outfit. It didn’t involve much more fabric than Starla’s. Stupidly, she’d worn it to entice him when they talked, hoping they’d end up back at her place again. Or his.

  “Have fun,” Michael said. The three of them exchanged nice-to-have-met-yous as Candace roamed toward the door, arms wrapped around herself, trying to get a grip. She was shaking, and she had no idea why…whether it was from anger or arousal or the memory of what had happened between them only last night. The desire for it to happen again, knowing that it couldn’t.

  She did know it, didn’t she? Deep down, didn’t she realize that Macy was right? That her parents would make her life a living hell from now till eternity if she ended up with someone like him? She didn’t want to end up disowned. She didn’t want to end up used and discarded by him. It seemed there was no happy medium: sleep with him even though there was no future, or sleep with him knowing there was a future and it alarmingly resembled the seventh level of hell. In that case, was she willing to run away from everything she’d ever known to be with him? It scared the bejesus out of her to consider it.

  Of course, either option assumed that he wanted her. She should say her goodbyes to him now, go home, let the tears out and soothe herself with a tub of Häagen-Dazs and half a pound of Godiva. Then fill the lingering emptiness not assuaged by comfort food and Desperate Housewives reruns with a shoe-and-handbag shopping spree tomorrow with her best friends. Retail therapy. It had always helped.

  Brian caught up and pulled open the door for her, waving goodbye to his female friend. Candace had nearly forgotten all about her. She supposed that meant she believed his story, foolish as it might make her.

  They strolled out into the cool spring night, leaving the chaos of the sports bar behind. Candace breathed deep as they walked, trying to clear the muddled confusion of her thoughts. At least, that’s what she told herself. She was really trying to calm the jitters that raced along her nerves. Being with him made her feel as if mad little beasts were trying to eat her alive from the inside.

  “Where are we going?” she asked softly.

  “I’m parked in the back.”

  She stopped walking. “I’m not leaving with you.”

  “That’s fine. I just want to talk.” His gaze raked down the length of her body, taking in her short skirt and tight baby tee. “Is this my influence, honey? Because I think I like it.”

  He might as well have touched her. Her nipples hardened and pushed against the silk of her bra. She fidgeted and tugged the hem of her shirt outward, hoping he couldn’t see the peaks through her clothes, fighting the urge to cross her arms over herself.

  When he saw she wasn’t going to reply, he reached for her hand and pulled her into motion again. Maybe he had his own version of “goodbye” well rehearsed and ready to deliver, rendering all her agonized indecision moot.

  The inside of his truck still had that new-vehicle smell. He’d bought it after he and Michelle broke up, so she’d never been in it before. It was nice and roomy, a quad-cab. She made sure to stay scooted as close to the passenger door as she could even when he raised the console and left the bench seat open.

  A snicker sounded in the darkness when she made no move to get closer to him. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

  She stared straight ahead. “Something like that.”

  “You’re a riddle to me, sunshine.”

  “Why do you even call me that?” she blurted.

  His surprise was almost palpable in the air between them. He cleared his throat. “It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Tell me. Please?”

  “On one condition.”

  “What?” she asked warily.

  “That you scoot over here next to me.”

  Her fingers were twisting into knots with one another. “After you tell me.”

  He sighed as if dealing with an insistent child, and began toying with the steering wheel. “One day when I was at Michelle’s apartment, the weather was crappy and cold and she seemed to have a galloping case of PMS or something. I was ready to take off, but then you came over. You walked in the front door, wearing a bright yellow T-shirt and a pink cap with your hair pulled through in a ponytail, and you gave me the biggest smile. It was…almost blinding. You lit up when you saw me. And I thought you were like a ray of sunshine that had wandered in from the rain.” He scoffed. “Told you it was fucking stupid.”

  She picked at her nails, feeling her bottom lip quiver and hoping it didn’t portend a torrent of tears. “It’s not stupid. I r
emember that day. You stayed around and we ended up all going out for a movie and pizza. But why do you say I’m a riddle?”

  “Damn, what’s with the questions?” He sounded far more amused than annoyed.

  “You can’t just throw that out there and not expect me to wonder why.”

  “I see.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the side of his leg and his hand resting on his thigh. How she wanted him to touch her. But if he did, she was lost. “If you don’t come over here, I’m coming over there.”

  “Brian—”

  “Hey, that was our agreement. It’s okay.” He patted the seat next to him. “Promise.”

  Sighing so that he was well aware of how unhappy it made her, she slid across the seat until they were scant inches away from touching sides. Now his nearness washed over her, his heat battering her entire left side, and any trembling she’d recently wrestled back control of promptly returned. And then some.

  “That’s better, isn’t it?” he said.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why am I a riddle?”

  “Because last night, you didn’t seem to be able to get enough, and now you’re looking at me like I’m a leper. And you’re running games on me.”

  “Running games?” she asked, looking at him directly for the first time since they’d left the bar. There was only one overhead lamp in this parking lot and it gave scant illumination, casting his face in shadows. “What am I doing?”

  Brian gestured toward the establishment. “That guy in there. You had to make damn sure he was sitting next to you, huh?”

  “I have no idea what you’re—”

  He laughed. “You can give it up, sweetie. I knew from the second the dude laid eyes on me that he knew exactly who I was to you. Obviously the whole thing was a set up. Did you follow me here?”

  She couldn’t speak because there was nothing to say, and besides, her jaw had come unhinged.

  He went on. “I’m sorry you saw me hanging out with another girl, but honestly, don’t let it bother you. She’s a friend only. I’ve known and worked with her for years, and that’s all she’s ever been.”