Impulsive

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I know, Luke,” she whispered. “I know.”

  They came together in a flurry of moans and gasping cries. He shuddered, twisting her heart in her chest. The weight of him anchored her when she felt boneless. His touch soothed her when she was restless. And his kisses heated her soul as well as her body. She needed him in a way she hadn’t needed anyone before, and the thought scared her. Luke didn’t talk about his feelings or commitment or their future. They were drifting through the days, together but separate. She’d already wounded him once by pushing him away. She couldn’t blame him for hesitating to do it again.

  A wave of guilt swept over her for reasons she didn’t understand. She wanted to tell him she was in love with him, that she’d been in love with him from the start, but couldn’t find the courage. Love didn’t last, and if they weren’t in love, it didn’t have to end.

  In the morning, she awoke to an empty bed and a sense of disappointment. She swept a hand over the rumpled sheet where Luke had slept, the cotton cool beneath her palm. His embrace offered the security and comfort she’d needed. In his arms, all her problems dissipated. With a sigh, she pushed back the covers and put her feet on the floor.

  The carpet tickled beneath her feet as she padded into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror showed red-rimmed eyes, blotchy skin, and a mass of tangles in her hair. Scary. She opened the shower to turn on the hot water. A knock at the door made her jump.

  “Tash?” Luke’s voice released the tension between her temples. “I made coffee and toast. I’ve got to leave for work in a few minutes.”

  He was still here. He hadn’t left.

  “Um, okay,” she shouted. With a burst of superhuman speed, she brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, and piled her hair on top her head in a messy bun, pausing long enough to admire the warm brown color. A second glance in the mirror persuaded her to add a touch of blush to her cheeks and a sweep of gloss to her lips. It had never mattered before, but now she wanted to look her best for him.

  She found him seated on a barstool at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. His clothes were rumpled, but his hair was still damp from the shower. The ends stuck up in sexy spikes. He glanced up at her and set the coffee cup down on its saucer, a hesitant smile on his lips. How many times had she fantasized about him waiting for her and passed it off as a silly crush? What she felt for him went way beyond friendship, and she’d been a fooling herself to think it was anything less.

  “Are we good?” he asked. This time the words put a knot of unease in the pit of her stomach. He pushed his barstool back from the counter.

  “Sure,” she answered and busied her hands with buttering a slice of toast so he wouldn’t notice how they trembled.

  “It’s just…” He shoved a hand through his hair and began again. “Last night was intense. And every time things heat up between us, you bolt.”

  “What? Oh, crap.” The toast slipped from her hand and landed face down on the floor. While she retrieved it, her mind processed his statement, trying to make sense of it. Last night had been more than she’d expected. It had felt familiar and good and made her want more. More nights with him. More than friendship. More Luke.

  She dropped the toast into the trash and turned to face him. Lines of worry etched his face. He tore his toast in half, handing her a piece, avoiding her eyes. She drew in a deep breath and placed her hand over his.

  “Not this time,” she said.

  Chapter 30

  When Luke and Tasha arrived at Felony the next weekend, a line for admission had formed an hour before opening. It snaked down the alley and around the block. Luke took her hand and cleared a path for them, his fingers tight and possessive around hers, making her feel safe and protected. Randy ushered them inside the door with a shake of his head, blocking out the others.

  “What’s going on?” Luke asked him.

  “Beats the hell out of me,” Randy replied. He jerked a thumb toward the bar. “Go ask your brother.”

  Jack paced the floor behind the bar. When they approached, he turned to face them and thrust both hands through his hair, something she’d seen Luke do a thousand times. Ally sat on a barstool, her brows furrowed.

  “We’re totally fucked,” Jack said. “The band cancelled.” He gripped his forehead and massaged his temples.

  “What’s up, my bitches?” Elijah sailed into the room on leather-clad legs, his entourage trailing behind him with amps and equipment cases. Her heart tripped when his eyes met hers for a fraction of a second. “Sorry I’m late. We’ll be set up in a minute.”

  “What the fuck, man?” By the color of Jack’s face, he teetered on the verge of a meltdown. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “You need more business. I’m here to make that happen.” Elijah paused to bark orders to his men then turned back to Jack. “I sent out a social media blast a few minutes ago. This place is going to be crawling with people. You’d better get ready.”

  “Are you crazy?” Jack waved his arms at no one in particular. “You can’t show up here and take over like this. We’re not prepared for a crowd. Jesus.” The ends of his hair stood out in frantic spikes where he continued to scrub through it.

  Ally put her hand on his chest and looked up at him. When his gaze met hers, his expression softened and he drew in a deep breath. She said something to him, meant only for his ears. He smiled and ran a hand down her back, pressing her to him. Tasha swallowed down the thickness in her throat, teaming with envy. Maybe she wanted that, too.

  “We’ll be fine.” Randy stepped forward, a calm voice in the midst of Jack’s chaos. “The coolers are stocked and we just got a shipment yesterday.”

  “We should raise the cover,” Ally interjected, her mind always tabulating costs and overhead. “I’ll help Tasha wait tables. Karly and Luke can man the bar.”

  “Everyone’s tweeting about it,” Karly said, lifting her phone into the air.

  “See? It will all be fine,” Elijah said. “Just say thank you, Jack.”

  “I’ll thank you afterward,” Jack said, but his face split into a grin. He pumped Elijah’s hand.

  Before Randy let the crowd inside, Tasha knocked on the door of Jack’s office. He sat on the edge of his desk. Ally stood between his knees, one hand on his shoulder. They turned to smile at her when she entered.

  “What’s up?” Jack asked. “Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine,” Tasha said, feeling an uncomfortable heat rise up her neck. She needed to know something and had no idea how to ask. Her palms began to sweat, and she rubbed them on her thighs. “I just wanted to ask you guys something. It’s not really any of my business, but…” The words faded and she looked away, embarrassed.

  “Spit it out, Gretzky,” Ally said.

  “You—both of you—I mean, why did you decide to do it? Get engaged, I mean.” The question tangled on her tongue. At their twin looks of confusion, she struggled on, looking to Jack for help. “You were married to Chelsea and you were miserable. You always said you’d never settle down. And Ally, you said you didn’t need to get married. That it’s just a piece of paper and doesn’t mean anything.”

  They were silent for a minute, contemplating her question. Tasha glanced at the door and considered making a run for it before she humiliated herself any further.

  Jack was the one who answered. “Ally’s my best friend, and I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without her in it. I need her to know I’ll always be her for her, and I can’t think of a better way to prove it.” He smiled at Ally and threaded his fingers through hers.

  “Plus we get a tax break,” Ally added with a wink.

  “You’re such a romantic,” he groaned.

  Tasha smiled and went back to the bar while she contemplated Jack’s answer. Ally was his best friend. They enjoyed each other’s company, and it showed in their smiles. They’d gone through hell but had managed to stay together despite a manipulativ
e ex-wife and a philandering boyfriend.

  She put their conversation aside while she went to work readying the tables on the floor, but it stayed active in her subconscious. Her gaze kept sliding back to Elijah. He had a guitar slung around his neck, strumming chords, sharing witty banter with one of his guys. He looked comfortable on the stage, relaxed and easy.

  In the middle of a sound check, his eyes flicked to meet hers and he winked. Her stomach took a dip. She returned the smile. Luke looked up from the bar, and by his expression, he’d caught the exchange. A wave of guilt washed over her. She’d have to watch herself, be more careful. This thing—this secret attraction—to Elijah needed to remain a secret. She wouldn’t jeopardize Luke over a crush.

  Within an hour, the place teemed with bobbing, sweating bodies, and Tasha had little time to worry about anything but filling orders. Elijah put on a hell of a show. The crowd screamed and danced, fists waved in the air, and the cash rolled in. A reporter from the newspaper showed up, and paparazzi lined the street. By the time the show ended, Tasha’s feet ached and her pockets bulged with tips.

  Once the doors closed, they gathered around the bar. Everyone talked at once, still high on adrenalin. A round of high-fives and back-slapping ensued. Luke pulled Elijah into a man-hug. It was the first time Tasha had ever seen them touch for anything more than a handshake. Elijah stared at her from over Luke’s shoulders, his eyes dark and indefinable, searching hers. He raised an arm, beckoning her into their circle, and she went willingly. They surrounded her with their strong arms, their scents of perspiration and spicy cologne mingling together like an aphrodisiac. An electric tingle jolted through her when Elijah’s hand slid down her back and Luke pressed a kiss into her temple.

  “You did a good think,” she told Elijah and dropped a kiss on his cheek. His eyes glowed down at her with heat and longing. By the time he turned around, it had disappeared, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.

  “I made that stage my bitch,” he admitted to the group with a playful smirk. “It felt great. Now I remember why I love this so much. I’ll put the word out to my friends and let them know this is the place to be, that they can stop in any time. You’ll have more attention than you want in no time.”

  “You’ve done me a solid,” Jack said. The lines of concern faded from his expression, replaced by his customary mischievous sparkle. “I owe you, man.”

  “You don’t owe me shit,” Elijah countered, his voice thick. He cleared his throat and raised his arms. “Now, why aren’t we celebrating?”

  Three hours later, they stumbled into Elijah’s car. In true rock star fashion, he’d procured a limo for the night. It sat gleaming on the street, the sleek and pristine exterior at contrast with the rundown and abandoned buildings. A handful of paparazzi braved the alley when they exited the building, their flashbulbs blinding Tasha’s already blurred vision.

  Jack had brought down his beloved top shelf Scotch for the event. Tasha hated Scotch and had drunk rum instead, but the boys had consumed the whole bottle and half of another one. Somewhere in the ensuing melee, Elijah had lost his shirt and shoes. Luke wore a string of paperclips around his neck and crawled into the limo on his hands and knees.

  “We’re going to party until dawn,” Elijah said for the tenth time.

  “It is dawn, you fucker,” Luke slurred, poking Elijah with his foot. He pointed out the window. Streaks of pink and gold silhouetted the city skyline.

  Tasha had seen Luke drink plenty of times, but she’d never seen him intoxicated. He was usually the one to babysit her after a night of revelry, not the other way around. His hair tumbled over his forehead in messy waves, scruff peppering his cheeks and square jaw. He turned to her, his gaze unfocused, and patted the seat beside him. “Come here and kiss me.”

  The limo turned a corner and sent all of them scrambling. Luke bobbled and swayed. Tasha slid down the bench seat and flailed for something to secure her. Elijah rolled off the seat and sprawled on the floor at her feet.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” he remarked, scrubbing a hand over his face in surprise. He didn’t get up but stayed there, blinking at her with big blue eyes, one hand wrapped around her ankle as if to anchor him. “I love you, Tattoo Girl,” he said, and planted a wet kiss on her calf.

  A tiny spark exploded beneath her skin.

  “Me, too,” Luke replied. He crawled toward her on hands and knees like an unsteady cat. Once he reached her, the tip of his nose nuzzled along her neck. “You always smell so good.”

  “Like the garden of Eden,” Elijah murmured, his lips hot against her bare leg.

  The interior of the car spun around Tasha. She gripped the seat to steady herself. Elijah’s hold on her ankle tightened, his touch warm and reassuring. His lips continued up to her thigh. Luke’s arm snaked around her waist while he licked and nipped her neck, his breath tickling her ear, the roughness of his stubble raking over her jaw. She tangled her fingers in Elijah’s hair and turned her lips to Luke, needing his kiss.

  “Mmmm…you taste like candy,” Luke slurred when they parted. He turned to his friend. Elijah gazed up at them from between her legs, eyes intense and hot. “Now you kiss her.”

  It seemed natural and easy, the edges of right and wrong blurred by alcohol and lust. Every touch, every kiss sent excited tingles into her center. She’d been with another girl and guy before, but never two men at the same time. Being the focus of their lips and hands thrilled her, inflated her sense of worth. These two beautiful men wanted her. She’d never felt so desirable, so worshiped, so adored.

  ***

  The raucous melody of AC/DC’s Highway to Hell woke Tasha from a dreamless sleep, sweating and disoriented. The music echoed in her head, driving spikes of pain into her temples. She sighed, unable to pry her eyes open or move. A heavy weight pinned her to the bed. Panicked, she jerked a knee into something hard. It groaned and shifted, allowing her to free an arm.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Luke’s face inches from hers, his eyes shut. One hairy leg wedged between her thighs. His arm draped over her waist, hand cupping her breast. After a quick inventory of body parts, she realized there were two sets of hands gripping her. Looking down, she spied Elijah’s head pillowed on her stomach, long arms circling her hips. His hot breath tickled her bare belly.

  They were in various stages of undress, but no one was naked. She wore her bra and panties. Luke still wore the paper clip necklace, socks, and boxers. Elijah was completely naked except for a pair of her shorts. They were the ones she wore for running, hot pink and splattered with black kisses.

  The music started again, and the pounding in her head resumed.

  “What. The. Fuck.” Luke shifted, his voice rough and anguished.

  Elijah’s hand groped along the bed, following the sound of the music to the nightstand. He pulled the phone to his face, squinted at the display, hit the mute button, and threw the phone onto the floor. With a sigh, he nuzzled his nose into her belly and closed his eyes.

  “I think I’m dying,” Luke said into her neck. After a beat, he added, “No, I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”

  “You’re both going to die if you don’t get off me,” Tasha said, another wave of uncomfortable heat flashing over her. The two men together radiated warmth like a fully stoked woodstove. Both men groaned and rolled onto their backs. She sighed in relief at the coolness.

  “Somebody buy me a vowel,” Elijah muttered and threw an arm over his eyes.

  “Need coffee, Aspirin,” Tasha said. Moving slowly to keep her stomach under control, she crawled over the two bodies and bounced off the walls into the kitchen, blinking against the bright daylight streaming through the windows. She needed caffeine in her veins before she tried to assimilate the impact of whatever had happened.

  A huge chunk of time seemed to be missing from her memory. The last thing she remembered was climbing into the limo, laughing until her ribs hurt, feeling happier than she had in a long time. The rest of the night
returned in blurry flashes. Hands sliding along her legs. Kisses pressed into bare skin. Lots and lots of kisses. Wet. Open-mouthed. Hungry. The recollection sent heat racing into her cheeks, and a bolt of white-hot lust jolted between her legs.

  Luke entered the kitchen, looking disoriented and cranky. He stopped in the middle of the room, like he was lost, and frowned. “What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock,” she replied before handing him a cup and two caplets of pain reliever.

  “In the afternoon?” He stared at her like she spoke a foreign language then shrugged and slid onto a stool at the island.

  Unshaven and rumpled, he bore an air of delicious rebellion, one she’d never seen on him before. Her gaze roved over his hard chest and the trail of hair leading into his boxers. When she found his face, she realized he was staring at her with identical interest, one of his eyebrows lifting. A quick glance down reminded her she was wearing only a bra and a pair of skimpy red lace panties. She eased onto a stool across from Luke and bit her lower lip.

  “Am I crazy, or did we give a ride to a homeless dude with a pet pig last night?” Elijah sauntered into the kitchen, still wearing her ridiculous pink running shorts. They were too short and too tight, outlining every square inch of his impressive package. He rubbed his hand across his belly and contemplated the coffeemaker.

  Tasha blinked and dropped her eyes to her coffee cup.

  He poured some coffee and joined them. “What?” he asked, returning her stare.

  Luke lowered his face, laughter shaking his shoulders.

  “Um, you might want to take a look in the mirror,” she said.

  He swiveled on his stool and bent to catch his reflection in the toaster. “Oh, shit,” he said and scrubbed a hand through the freshly dyed platinum blond locks of his hair. “That’s interesting.”

  “Are you going to get in trouble?” she asked, biting back a frown. He answered with an apathetic shrug.