“I know.” She turns one leg, showing off her new knee-high fuck-me boots. “But you got the boots too!”
Of course I bought the boots. The way her eyes got all shiny when she looked at them, and then her face when she tried them on … I just wanted to make her happy. But I don’t say that.
“The boots are gonna drive me crazy,” I say instead. “I want to have them wrapped around my hips while I fuck your brains out later.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and it’s fucking adorable that she still blushes when I say things like that. Though I guess it hasn’t been that long. Would she still blush if we were together in a month? Six months? A year?
That’s crazy talk, though.
She’s leaving tomorrow.
Her parents called this afternoon, effectively ending our day of fun tourism. They brought the whole tone of the day down as soon as they called Lauren’s phone. We were in Central Park, having just left the little castle and wandering the paths hand in hand when her phone rang.
She stepped away from me, and all I caught were tiny snippets of her half of the conversation. More tone of voice than actual words. Frustration and resignation were the dominant feelings.
And when she came back, she said she’d negotiated one more night, but she had to be on a flight out of JFK at eleven the next morning.
So I took her shopping to cheer her up. And because I’d already gotten the nine o’clock spot at Vapor tonight and we both needed something to wear.
I check the time on my phone. “The concierge said our car would be ready at eight fifteen. We should head downstairs. You ready?”
“Just a sec.” She darts into the bathroom and comes back out poking things into the new clutch purse that matches her dress. Then she grabs her puffy coat, drapes it over her arm, and gives me a smile coupled with a nose wrinkle. “The coat doesn’t really go with the dress, but it’s what I’ve got. And it’s too damn cold to go anywhere without it.”
I laugh, reaching for her coat and holding it for her to put on. “Good thing they have a coat check.”
Grabbing my own coat, I hold open the door for her. She shakes her head and glances back at me over her shoulder. “I still can’t believe you hired a car for tonight. When we could easily take public transportation like we did all day. Or, I dunno, drive the car that’s parked in the parking garage downstairs.”
“I don’t want to drive through New York traffic. And we’ll be out late, so I’d rather have a car service ready to bring us back when we’re done at the club. It’s safer and warmer.”
The car deposits us at the back, where Liam meets us at the back door. He’s my contact, the guy who books DJs and gave me a blanket invitation to come whenever I’m in town. He started out as the go-to guy to get good DJs or bands for parties around campus back in Phoenix. He leveraged his contacts and experience into a spot as a booker for a club there, and now he’s moved on to New York City.
He greets me first, his smile picked out against his dark skin in the dim light. Gripping my hand in his, he pulls me in close for a slap on the back. “Hey, man. Glad you could make it. Next time give me a little more notice, though, right?”
I grin back. “Sorry. Our plans have been a little up in the air. We weren’t sure if we’d have time to come by at all.”
Liam gives me an unimpressed look. “If you’re in town, you always have time. That’s the rule.”
I chuckle, moving past him so Lauren can come in out of the cold. “Lauren, this is my friend Liam. Liam, Lauren.”
He takes her hand in his, but simply holds it, looking her over and bumping his eyebrows up and down. “Well, hello, Lauren. Very nice to meet you.”
She chuckles, the low, throaty one that always sends my blood rushing south. “Nice to meet you too.”
I clench my hands into fists, crossing my arms as Liam leans in close to give her an air kiss on the cheek like he’s fucking European. Still holding her fucking hand.
And she’s not trying to pull away or move closer to me or anything.
Goddammit.
She glances past him to me and gives me a weird look. I force a smile, which produces a concerned smile on her face.
Fuck.
I’m fucking jealous, and I can’t even hide it.
I have no reason to be jealous. Liam’s a flirt. A player. I know this. His appraisal of Lauren is the same way he acts around anyone who appears to be female.
But the sight of her extracting her hand and moving closer to me makes the tight knot of anger relax. I wrap my arm around her and move her in front of me so she can precede Liam and I down the narrow hallway to the stairs that lead to the VIP section. We’ll hang out there till it’s time for my set. When I’ll have to leave Lauren on her own while I work. I grit my teeth at the thought of leaving her vulnerable to the advances of any douchebag who happens to find her.
And in that damn dress I insisted on buying for her, they’re all going to want her.
Fucking hell. What was I thinking?
I was thinking she looked fucking hot and how much fun it would be to peel that dress off her at the end of the night. I was thinking how happy she looked when she saw her reflection in the mirror. The way her eyes lit up when I told her to get those fuck-me boots too.
That’s what I was fucking thinking. And now I’m kicking myself.
Lauren’s ass sways in front of me as she struts in those kickass boots, and Liam bumps my shoulder with his. “Nice, man. Where’d you find her?” He’s close enough that he doesn’t have to shout to be heard over the bass thumping through the walls.
“At my brother’s wedding,” I toss over my shoulder. “And fuck off. She’s here with me.”
He holds his hands up for a second, his grin even wider than when he met me at the door. “Hey, man. You know I don’t poach. I can’t help it if I’m an avid admirer of the female form.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Is that what you call it?”
He doesn’t answer, instead pushing past me to get to Lauren, who’s stopped at the place where the long hallway empties into the floor of the main club. He touches the small of her back, leaning his head close to her ear to say something, and pointing across her body to her right.
Fucker.
That’s his move so he can do an accidental boob graze. Since I’m behind them and it’s dark, I can’t tell if he touched her chest or not.
I don’t hold back the growl that’s aching to get out. No one can hear it anyway.
Lauren nods, pushing her hair behind her ear and stepping away from his touch. Thank god, or I might have to punch someone in the throat.
And it wouldn’t be Lauren.
Liam gives me a shit-eating grin as I walk past him to follow Lauren upstairs. A large bouncer in a tight black T-shirt unhooks a velvet rope to let us pass at the landing. We ascend a few more stairs, push through a curtain, and then we’re surrounded by low tables, plush chairs and couches, and beautiful people getting drunk and high and dancing to the house music pounding through the speakers in every corner.
Stopping in front of me, Lauren looks around with wide eyes. I step close behind her, my hand going to her hip. “Liam has a table reserved for us in a private corner. We’ll order drinks and get you settled, and then I’ll have to get ready for my set.”
She nods, following the pressure of my hand guiding her through the crowd to the small table. Liam follows me, making sure we’re settled. “I’ll send up a waitress, but don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be back in twenty to get you.”
With a last nod, he leaves, the bottle-blond waitress coming up seconds later in the tight crop top and mini skirt that make up the uniform for this place, her tits pressing against the V neck so hard that they look like they’re going to pop out.
I order a vodka cranberry for Lauren and a beer for me.
Lauren presses herself to my side, looking all around. So it takes me by surprise when she asks, “So what was that all about downstairs?”
She finally glances at me, but her look is withering. “The little caveman display, complete with glares, clenched jaw, and crossed arms like you were holding yourself back from ripping Liam’s arms off.”
I don’t even try to pretend not to know what she’s talking about. She has me pegged. How is it that this girl that I barely know seems to know me so well? I shrug, looking around myself, halfway hoping the waitress will reappear and save me. But she doesn’t. And even if she did, Lauren wouldn’t be deterred once she left again.
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
A little giggle and a snort make me look back down at Lauren. She’s biting her lip, fighting a smile. “Are you serious right now?”
I cross my arms. “Yes. I am. Did his arm touch your boobs when he was pointing to the stairs?”
She shakes her head. “No. Why?”
I shrug and look away again. “That’s one of his moves. Point something out with your arm in front of a chick. That way you can ‘accidentally’ touch her tits.”
She snorts again, making me glare at her again. “And you were all giggly and smiley. It didn’t make me feel any better.”
I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but it isn’t the condescending faux sympathy she gives me. “Aww, poor Brendan. You afraid your friend is going to scam on your hookup?” She reaches over and pats my leg, leaning in close to press her boobs against my arm and bringing her mouth close to my ear. Her husky voice and her breath on my cheek make my dick chub up in my pants. “I’m way more interested in you than him anyway. Since I’m touching you with my tits does that make you feel better?”
“Yes,” I grunt, hanging onto my irritation on purpose, partly to needle her and partly to see what else she’ll do in the name of making me feel better.
I’m rewarded with a thigh stroke, high up my inner thigh, but it stops short of reaching my now-aching dick.
“Dammit, Lauren. I’m going to need to drag you into the bathroom for a little relief before my set if you don’t cut it out.”
She laughs, leaning back and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Serves you right.”
At my arched eyebrow, she shakes her head and looks around. When she meets my eyes again, her face is serious, all amusement gone. “Look, I know you think I’m a flirt and a tease. But I’m really not. I was being nice to your friend. Did you want me to be a stone-cold bitch?”
“Is that the only other option?”
Her shoulders lift in a shrug, making her boobs bounce in the low scoop neck of her dress. “Pretty much. If I’m nice to anyone with a penis, you assume I’m flirting. If I’m polite but not friendly, then I’m a bitch. That’s the way it works.”
Her assessment leaves me speechless. And she just studies me, unaffected and matter of fact. I shake my head and look away, not sure how to answer her. “Just be yourself,” I say at last. “If you want to be a bitch, be a bitch. Liam won’t care either way.” A rueful smile pulls at my face as I look at her again. “Hell, he might get off on that. Try it and see.”
She rolls her eyes. “Now you want me to see what turns him on? You make no sense.”
My hand snakes out and captures the back of her neck, pulling her face to mine for a heated kiss. “I don’t have to make sense. Just as long as I’m the only one that gets to touch you, to slide inside your hot little pussy, then we’re good.”
Her lips part on a soundless gasp, all pink and puffy.
The waitress clears her throat as she sets down our drinks, and Lauren practically jumps away from me, studiously smoothing down her dress as the waitress eyeballs us, tucking her circular tray under her arm. “Liam said to tell you to drink up. You’re on in a few.” Then she struts off, stopping to check on another table.
Lauren won’t meet my eyes as she reaches for her drink. I sip my beer, staring at her as she looks everywhere except at me. Before I can say anything else, Liam’s back, clapping me on the shoulder. “C’mon, man. You’re up next. Let’s get you set up with what you need. Then I’ll be back to keep your girl company.”
With another low growl, I stand. Lauren’s finally facing me, but her eyes are darting between Liam and me, wide with some emotion. Surprise? Apprehension? I don’t even know. And I don’t have time to find out.
“Gimme a second. I’ll be right behind you.”
He tsks and shakes his head. “You’re leaving her alone for an hour. Not an eternity. You still gotta say goodbye?”
“I just need a kiss for luck.”
He guffaws, but I ignore him, leaning over and kissing Lauren one more time. “Have Liam bring you down to the dance floor. I want to be able to see you.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t trust me with your friend?”
“Nah. It’d be him I wouldn’t trust, not you. But that has nothing to do with it. I just want to watch you on the dance floor.”
Straightening up, I turn and follow Liam to the stairs. Hopefully she’ll do as I ask. Because the last thing I want is her up here alone for an hour. And whatever Liam says, he’s likely to get distracted and leave her on her own after ten minutes. The reason he’s good at his job is because he excels at making and leveraging connections. That’s why I’m here, after all. But he can’t get in Lauren’s pants, she’s not a valuable connection for his business, and he knows me, so he assumes that whatever’s between Lauren and me isn’t lasting.
That thought makes a pit form in my stomach.
The truth that I’ve barely admitted to myself is that I don’t want to put her on a plane tomorrow and never talk to her again like we said we’d do.
Before I know it, we’re at the DJ booth, and Liam’s turning to me. “Blow this place up, man. I’m looking forward to hearing what you’ve come up with since I saw you a few months ago. Impress me.”
I force myself back to the present and give him a cocky grin. “Like that’s hard.” And on his answering chuckle, I push past him, greeting the DJ wrapping up with his set with a head nod. He pushes a few buttons, starts something from the club’s in-house list, and disconnects his equipment, leaving it wide open for me. Taking my place, I plug in my phone to the computer that Liam’s letting me borrow, transferring my playlist for tonight over while the music plays, letting the familiarity take over my attention and pushing the Lauren dilemma to the back of my mind.
I’ll just have to make sure she’s not ready to cut off contact tomorrow either.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lauren
I sit sipping my drink, watching the people around me after Brendan leaves me alone. I don’t know what to make of his behavior tonight. And I don’t want to think about it.
It doesn’t really matter anyway. I’m leaving in the morning. I’d rather have fun, dance, and enjoy my last night with him in New York than examine and pick apart my own feelings and motivations, much less his.
That’s a problem for another day.
Right now I’m just a college student on break, free to drink and flirt and have no-strings sex with whomever I want. And I want Brendan and this delicious vodka cranberry, maybe another one or two after this, my excitement building as I wait for his set to start. After hearing some of his mixes and compositions in the car—regardless of whether he considers them compositions or not—I’m excited to find out what else he has hidden on that phone of his.
The repetitive thumping gives way to something with more of a melody, a seductive beat underneath that makes me want to move.
Just then Liam returns, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes scanning down and up my body as I stand. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about checking me out.
When he gets close enough, he leans in for another air kiss. “Damn, girl. You look like a present that’s just waiting to be unwrapped. I’m jealous that Brendan got to you first. But the way he’s acting around you, you’ve got him firmly wrapped around your little finger. Brendan doesn’t really go for that kind of thing, so be gentle with him.�
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I laugh at his comment, ignoring the twist in my belly at his words and shaking my head. “It’s not like that. We’re only together on this trip, then we’ll go our separate ways.”
Liam’s face eloquently expresses his doubt without needing to say a word.
I smooth my hands over my hips, adjusting the short skirt of my dress and looking toward the balcony where I can just see the edge of the dance floor. “I want to go down there. Can you take me somewhere where I can see Brendan? And where I can dance.”
“Of course.” Liam gestures for me to precede him, but he settles his hand on my back like he did earlier to escort me down the stairs and out onto the dance floor.
The floor is packed, bodies writhing and moving in time with the music. Liam and I skirt the edge, then he starts moving us into the crowd. His hands fall to my hips, and he presses himself against my back. “Gotta dance through the crowd or we’ll never manage to get anywhere,” he says in my ear, pitching his voice just below a shout to be heard. The music here is even louder, the bass hitting me like a physical blow. But Liam is right. Moving through the crowd is easier if we’re all moving to the same rhythm. It’s slower, but more enjoyable than any other way I’ve ever traveled.
Liam deftly guides us past people, our hips swaying and feet moving in time to the beat. The longer I’m on the dance floor, the more accustomed I get to the sensation of the music moving through my body in a physical way. It happens to some degree when I play the violin, but the vibrations are smaller and centered around my shoulder, neck, and jaw. I don’t feel it in my belly, my chest, my legs.
Eventually, Liam turns me in a particular direction and points over my shoulder. “There’s your boy.”
I raise my eyes to see Brendan standing in a little booth surrounded by electronics, moving to the beat, his eyes scanning the crowd. I raise my hand, but even with that, he’s not looking my direction.
“Can you hold your own without me?”
Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6) Page 16