"I thought you were in school," I say.
"It's spring break."
She looks small in my leather jacket, but she's not small. She's three or four inches shorter than I am. In her heels, Violet is eye to eye with me.
Damn those long legs of hers…
My cock begs me to take over. She's got that look in her eyes. That please fuck me out of my misery look.
Her eyes go to the ground. "Thanks for the jacket. I'll drop it off tomorrow. You staying at your parents' place?"
"Yeah. With Piper."
"I'm going to call a cab." She tugs at her short dress but it does nothing to cover her long legs.
Damn, it's getting hard saying no to the look in her eyes. Come home with me, Vi. I'll wipe every bit of your pain away. I'll make you forget everything but your body for the rest of the night.
That shit can't happen.
I shake my head. "I'll drive you home."
"You're sober?"
"Had one drink."
"Too busy sucking face to down a few shots?"
"Don't do shots anymore." Or suck face for that matter.
Her eyes flare with anger. She takes another step backwards. "Go back to your groupie, Ethan. I can get around on my own."
Not like this, she can't. I grab her wrist a little harder than I should. But I'm not letting her leave drunk. "You have two choices. You can stand around with me until you're sober enough I believe you're gonna be okay or you can come with me."
She looks at me like she's looking into my soul. "I don't want to go home."
"Then you can come back to my place. Piper will be jazzed to see you." My little sister adores Violet. I can't remember the last time she went a day without reminding me I made a mistake letting her walk away.
Violet stares at me for a long time. Finally, she nods. "Fine. But I'm not going to make polite conversation."
"How is that different than how things used to be?"
Her lips curl into the world's tiniest smile. It only stays for a moment but it's still the best thing I've felt since that last time I stepped on stage.
Chapter Three
Ethan
Violet walks through the foyer and takes in the living room with familiarity. Besides the matter of me and Mal—my brother is the lead singer in our band—being several million dollars richer and several million times more famous, things are mostly the same.
We still stay at our parents' place when we're in southern California. They still spend most of their time pursuing research in tropical countries. Piper is nineteen now, but I still don't feel right leaving her alone.
After she washes up in the downstairs bathroom, Violet takes a long look at the couch. "I can sleep here."
"No."
"Tell me what to do again and I'm walking home."
"Take my bed."
She stares back at me.
"I'm gonna insist. You'll save the two of us a lot of arguing if you agree now."
She looks me up and down. It's not an I'm glad we're not together look. It's I want the two of us on that bed, naked.
I lead her to my room anyway.
She closes the door and sits on the bed. Her eyes meet mine. She presses her lips together, taking a deep breath.
I know that look too. I know every expression Violet can make. She's working up her nerve to do something.
She exhales slowly. "Goddammit, Ethan. You know I haven't got any tact." She crosses and uncrosses her legs. Then she's spreading them apart. "You want to help me?"
"Wouldn't put it that way."
"If you really want me to feel better, then fuck me."
What the hell?
I pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming.
I'm not. Violet is in my bed, her legs spread, her lips parting with anticipation.
She's asking me to fuck her.
This is not how this fantasy goes. And I drift to it plenty of nights on the road.
I go to my dresser, grab a t-shirt and boxers for her to wear, and throw them to her. "You're drunk."
"If I was drunk, I'd be numb and I wouldn't have to ask." She slides the leather jacket off her arms and pushes herself off the bed. "Please, Ethan. You have any idea how badly I hate myself for asking you this?"
"That line work on other guys?"
"I don't mean it like that."
"You have more game than this."
"Okay. Let me start over." She plays with the hem of my t-shirt. Then her fingers are on my bare skin, sending heat to all my appendages. "It's not just that I want to feel something else. You were good. The best I've ever had."
"You're fucking with me." I bite my tongue so I won't ask questions about these other guys she's been fucking.
"No. I still think about you. About your calloused fingers between my legs." She moves closer, until her breath is warming my skin. "I think about that night in the lifeguard stand."
Goddammit, that's a fucking fantastic thought. I want to push that dress to her waist and stroke her until she comes.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are on fire with confidence. "I think about the way you screamed my name. About the way you pulled my hair when you came."
Fuck, I want her badly enough I'm considering this.
But I'm nobody's distraction. Especially not Violet's.
She presses her hips against mine. "You're hard."
Harder than I've been in a long time. "You're drunk."
She shakes her head. "I'm not." She brings her lips to my ear. "You were going to fuck the slut in the cheap heels."
"And your heels?"
She takes a step backwards. "These are Aerosoles. Or maybe Naturalizers. I forget, but they're good shit. Nice. Expensive."
I have to laugh. She laughs too. It breaks up the tension, sexual or otherwise. For a second, it's like everything is normal, like before we broke up, before her brother died.
Nobody else makes me feel like this.
I smile at Violet. "Aren't those shoes for soccer moms?"
She folds her arms. "I'm twenty-three."
"Twenty-four in two weeks."
She frowns, taken aback by me remembering her birthday. But that's ridiculous. We were together for three years. I remember way more than her fucking birthday. I remember every inch of her, every groan or moan or scream that fell off her lips.
Goddammit, I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her until she's screaming.
Thank God for self-respect or I'd already have my head between her legs.
Violet teases back. "If I'm twenty-three, then these shoes are obviously for twenty-three year olds. I can't help it that most people my age don't appreciate good arch support."
"I'm not gonna fuck you, Vi."
"I figured that out already."
"It won't help you turn off your brain. Your brain doesn't have an off switch."
She falls back on the bed. "I know."
"There are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom."
She looks up at me. "Okay."
"There's Advil too. Take one and drink a few glasses of water."
She stares back at me. "Good night, Ethan."
"You too."
I leave her in my bed and attempt to relax downstairs. It's not happening. My body and my heart are at war. It's throw the woman on your bed and split her in half vs. throw the woman out of your house before she hurts you again.
Violet may not be able to turn her brain off, but I can.
I go to our practice room and I play until I can't think or feel anything but the strings of my guitar.
Chapter Four
Violet
Oh sweet baby Jesus it's bright. How can it be this bright this early in the morning?
There's a loud noise downstairs. A pot clanging. My parents don't cook. Not on weekdays. And there's no way I drove myself home last night. I never drink and drive. Ever.
I take a deep breath and stretch my arms over my head. This isn't my bed. In my just-woke-up fog, I'm not sure who's bed it is. My thig
hs aren't sore. It's been long enough that I'd be sore if I spent the night screwing someone.
I catch sight of myself in the full length mirror. It's strategically placed above the bed. For watching yourself have sex.
I know that mirror. I know this bed. I really, really know the smell of this t-shirt. It smells like Ethan.
God damn, it smells good.
As if the smell of him and the sight of his incredibly hot sex mirror weren't enough to remind me of everything I miss about Ethan, the t-shirt is plastered with his band's name: Dangerous Noise.
Fuck…
I practically begged him to sleep with me. It's not that I don't get hot all over at the thought of Ethan driving his cock inside me, his hands digging into my hair as he groans my name—
Damn, it's getting hard to concentrate.
I drag myself to the bathroom, brush my teeth, shower, and try to ignore the memories of last night.
The man is with a different woman in every tabloid picture—I have Ethan Strong and Dangerous Noise Google alerts, sue me. He gives cocky interviews where he plays cool the entire time. He gets caught trashing hotel rooms and telling other musicians to go fuck themselves.
He's not the Ethan who taught me to play the Hole song Doll Parts. He's not the Ethan who showed me monster movies then squeezed me when I spent the entire film hiding behind my hands.
He's not the Ethan I fell in love with.
Hell, he was about to screw a strange woman when I ran into him—I should have known better than to go to our old hangout spot.
The woman meant so little to him that he abandoned her the second he saw me.
Maybe that should flatter me, but instead it screams Ethan Strong is not the sweet boy I loved. He's not even the asshole who broke my heart. He's a playboy rock star. Just another famous asshole who thinks women exist to get him off.
After I dry off and take a few more Advil, I change into last night's clothes and do what I can with the makeup I keep in my purse.
Out of excuses, I slink downstairs.
Ethan's older brother Mal is making eggs in the kitchen. He and Ethan have the same piercing blue eyes but Ethan's hair is nearly black while Mal's is more of a medium brown.
Joel, the Dangerous Noise drummer, is with him. Joel runs a hand through his sandy blond hair and laughs.
He launches into a slow clap. "Damn, Violet, way to backslide."
Mal's eyes go wide. Damn, he must be surprised. Usually, Mal wears the world's best poker face.
He nudges Joel and shoots him a shut the fuck up look.
Joel laughs. "Was it good, at least?"
Mal frowns. "If they'd fucked Ethan wouldn't have been in such a shit mood."
There’s a rainbow of canvas sneakers by the door. I recognize the shoes Ethan was wearing last night. Either he's here or—
"He's at the gym." Mal shakes his head. "You want to tell me how you ended up in Ethan's bed?"
"With as many details as you can spare, preferably." Joel's smile lights up his grey-green eyes. "I was wondering why Ethan brought a girl home."
Huh?
Joel stares at me. "Damn, can't believe that's really you, Violet. I thought you ate Ethan's heart for breakfast and used it as fuel to get your ass to New York."
God damn, is Ethan really selling our breakup as me destroying him? He's the one who chose his dreams over mine.
It doesn't matter now. It's over. As much as I like seeing Mal (hell, it's nice seeing Joel, even with his I'm gonna start shit attitude turned up to eleven), it's time for me to go.
"It's spring break," I say.
Joel nods. "You find a new boy in New York?"
"Not at the moment. I'm more focused on school. How's the band?" I ask.
"Good. Our tour bus is a hell of a lot nicer. And you know Ethan." Joel shrugs.
Mal clears his throat. "Did you come all the way to Orange County to fuck with Ethan's ex or did you come here to practice?"
"Mostly came to fuck with you and Ethan but Violet being here is a bonus," Joel says.
Mal frowns.
"Okay, I got it. I should practice." Joel shoots me a knowing look. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Does that leave anything?" I ask.
"Certainly wouldn't sleep with my ex," Joel says.
"You don't have any exes." Mal crosses his arms, adopting his papa bear stance.
"Okay, I got it. Tell Piper I said hi if I miss her." Joel shakes his head. He nods goodbye to me on the way to the practice room.
The room feels quieter without Joel in it. Mal has that same protective stance but I'm not sure who he's trying to protect—me or Ethan.
"I'd offer coffee but I gave it up. Bad for the vocal chords." He nods to a pot of tea on the counter. "You want tea?"
"Yes please. Where is Piper?"
"Class. She's at UCI now." He pours me a cup and places it on the kitchen island. "You want eggs too?"
"I should take a cab home."
"Stay for breakfast." He turns back to the pan on the stove and scrambles the eggs. "Don't make me restrain you."
I'm not sure whether or not I should laugh. I'm not good with people, not even with a guy who is practically my big brother.
Or was practically my big brother.
Mal and I aren't anything anymore. This isn't my life anymore and lingering in it makes me feel like I'm stuck in some weird, slutty rock star version of A Christmas Carol.
But the eggs smell good and I'm starving. I nod an okay.
Mal makes small talk. He has an entire plate of eggs, a dozen pieces of toast, and several halved avocados ready by the time I finish my second cup of tea.
"Ethan hasn't been the same since you left." Mal slides a plate with eggs, toast, and two halves of an avocado to me.
That's nice. Ethan had every chance to apologize. He clearly prefers fucking strangers to what we had. Ethan isn't the same, Mal and I can agree on that point. He's an obnoxious manwhore now.
"People change." I take a bite of my eggs and chew until they're mush. Anything to keep from having to make conversation.
"He said you were too drunk to drive." He shakes his head, that signature Mal this isn't good head shake.
That much is true. "Last night was two years since Asher…"
Mal nods. His eyes fill with sympathy. Or maybe pity. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell sometimes, especially with Mal.
"I'm sorry about that. He was a great guy. And to find him like that-"
"Thanks." I interrupt him before he can properly remind me of the gory details. This is far too much talking. I'm not good at talking.
I shove half a slice of toast in my mouth. Then I get to work on scooping avocado over my eggs, adding sriracha, stirring until it's just right.
"Thanks Mal. Tastes great." I shove another bite of food in my mouth and offer him a thumbs up.
He nods and we eat in silence. It's comfortable, familiar, like it's only been a few days and not two years.
The front door opens. There are footsteps, shoes coming off, bare feet on tile.
"Hey, Ethan. You want eggs, come sit." Mal ignores the tension. He turns back to me. "How is school? Math, right? You getting a master’s or a PhD?"
"A master’s. It's great. Can't wait to be back in—" I do the calculation in my head. "Twelve days."
Ethan does not sit. He stays standing as he fills a plate for himself.
His eyes bore into me. It's like my existence is causing him pain.
Mal continues to ignore his little brother. "You're good with numbers?"
I nod.
"And you don't want to be home?" Mal asks.
"Is it that obvious?"
Mal nods. "I have a proposition for you." He turns to Ethan, then his eyes are back on mine. "You go to NYU, right?"
I nod.
"We're leaving in two days. We stop by New York City in about eleven days. We're playing Madison Square Garden." Mal smiles.
"Congrats," I say.
"Thanks." He passes the hot sauce to Ethan, then his eyes are on me. "I'm sure Ethan agrees that we need somebody smart taking a second look at our numbers. Our old manager was a fuckup and I don't trust his math."
"Okay…" This seems like the perfect time to scarf down another piece of toast. Anything so I don't have to respond.
The look Ethan shoots Mal would kill a weaker man.
Mal doesn't blink. "Join us on tour. You can sightsee when we're stopped and take a second look at our numbers while we're on the road. I'm not sure how much this kind of thing runs, but I promise whatever we pay will be fair."
I clear my throat. "That's not really what I do. You'd be better off finding a CPA."
"I don't like bringing new people into the band." Mal's voice is impossible to read. "I'd rather it be you."
Ethan's blue eyes are fierce, determined. "Great idea."
What?
His eyes meet mine. It's like he's daring me to take the gig. You don't affect me at all, Vi. I don't give a fuck if you're around or not, but we both know you can't survive being around me for a week and a half.
Fuck, I practically begged him to fuck me last night.
I'm not that girl. I don't beg guys for sex. I don't beg anyone for anything.
Clearly, I can't handle being around Ethan.
My body has other ideas. It's already humming from the proximity of his body. It's already begging me to take him up on his offer.
He's sweaty from his workout. His dark, wavy hair is sticking to his head. His tattooed arms are slick. He only had one sleeve, the left, when things ended. Now he has a right sleeve too. It's as bright and vibrant as his eyes.
He takes a deep breath, stretching his arms over his head. I can see inches of his taught stomach. I can see that flash of pubic hair. The happy trail. God, that was a happy place.
My body screams Ethan, please give me Ethan.
It's not a good idea being around him. Even if it will get me out of my parents' house. Even if I need the cash.
Even if I miss him as much as I miss Asher.
I shake my head. "Thanks, Mal, but—"
"Think about it," Mal says.
I slide off my seat and take a step towards the door. "I'm going to call a cab." And wait for it far, far away.
Tempting Page 33