As Dust Dances

by Samantha Young

  She wasn’t here? What? “She just texted and told me she was here.”

  His jaw clenched and then his expression darkened at whatever she said on the other end of the line. “Right . . . so this just happened to come up at the last minute? . . . So why did you tell Skylar you were here already? . . . Right . . . aye . . . sure . . . You and I will talk about this later.” He hung up on her and threw his phone on the table.

  Starting to put two and two together, I shifted in my seat, feeling the urge to bolt. “She’s not coming?”

  “No.” He glared but I knew it wasn’t at me. “She said she had a friend emergency and was needed elsewhere. She lied to you about being here because she thought you wouldn’t come in if you knew it was me waiting for you.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  This was a setup.

  And we both knew it.

  Fuuuuuuck.

  “Well, she’s wrong,” I cracked, trying to defuse the situation. “Not even you could keep me from seeing King Tut’s for the first time.”

  His gaze softened. “You’ve never been here before?”

  I shook my head, grinning like a fangirl. “I’m pretty excited.”

  “Aye.” He smiled and then glanced around. “I suppose it has that thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “That air of anticipation. Magic has happened here. People come in wondering if they’re going to be lucky enough to witness a magic moment.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, stroking my fingers across the air in front of me. “You can feel it. The guys and I would’ve loved to play here, but we weren’t cool enough.”

  Killian’s lips twitched. “Coolness is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “Or something like that.” I grinned.

  We shared a warm look and the tension between us increased tenfold. I could only assume it was because we were doing something that didn’t involve work, and this felt . . . Well, in this dress it felt like a date, which was so far beyond what we’d agreed to, it wasn’t funny.

  “You don’t have to stay with me. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  He shook his head. “I want to hear this Crowe guy.”

  Okay, then. I was definitely going to need a beer to get through this.

  “I’m going to get a drink.” I grabbed my purse and was moving to slide out of the booth when Killian got up first.

  “I’ll get it. What would you like?”

  “Uh . . .” I looked past him to the bar, hoping to see a list of beers. “What do they have? What are you drinking?”

  “King Tut’s Lager. It’s brewed in Glasgow.”

  Ooh. “Well, I have to have that, then. Half a pint though.” I made a gesture with my finger and thumb. “I’m only little.”

  Killian’s eyes flickered down what he could see of my body and I thought I saw a flush high on his cheeks. But the lighting was low so I couldn’t be certain. He cleared his throat and turned away with a muttered, “Right.”

  My cheeks felt hot and I put a hand to one as I watched him walk over to the bar. The place wasn’t too packed, but it was possible everyone was already in the venue waiting for the band. I could hear the soft thrum of music and guessed it must’ve been the opening act. Although eager to get up there, I really needed a drink before I had to stand next to Killian in a darkened room.

  God, he had an ass on him.

  He wasn’t wearing his usual uniform of black suit trousers and shirt that fit him like a glove and showcased his lean, strong physique. He was wearing dark jeans that cupped his muscular ass and a red plaid shirt over a Kaleo T-shirt. He looked good in red. He usually wore darker colors but the red made his hair look blacker, his skin more golden. Dressed like that—indie, relaxed—he looked younger.

  I felt more than a tingle of heat between my legs as I studied him standing at the bar. His rugged, sharp profile was somehow more familiar to me than any other person’s profile on the planet. I imagined walking up beside him, sliding my hands down his fine ass and reaching up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his neck. Breathe in the scent of soap, spicy aftershave, and Killian. Run my tongue along the rim of his ear. Feel his heavy, warm heat lean back into me, the rumble of his groan vibrating through me—

  Oh, fuck.

  I shook off the thought, knowing my cheeks were probably rosy red. My whole body was left needy and wanting. I crossed my legs under the table and looked anywhere but at Killian, hoping my peaked nipples weren’t visible through my bra and way-too clingy dress.

  My gaze landed on a booth a few down from ours because there was a group of young women laughing and shooting hungry looks at the bar.

  At Killian.

  A roar of possessiveness I didn’t know I was capable of shot through me as I watched them. In fact, I think they were eyeing him and the bartender.

  To be fair, they were both very juicy eye candy.

  But Killian was my eye candy!

  Shit.

  I slumped back in my seat.

  No, he wasn’t.

  And I shouldn’t want him to be.

  What a clusterfuck.

  “Here.” Killian was suddenly back and pushing a half pint of lager toward me.

  The smell of hops filled my nostrils as I reached for it, unable to look him in the eye for fear he’d see my sexual frustration. “Thanks.”

  He slid back into his side of the booth and I could feel him staring as he reached for his own pint. “Crowe will be coming on soon.”

  “Right.” I took a drink, thinking he was politely telling me to hurry up.

  “You okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is that why you’re not looking at me?”

  Reluctantly, I met his gaze. “I’m looking at you.” God, Skylar, act normal! I gave him a crooked smile that was meant to be teasing and probably looked panicked. “And I’m not the only one.”

  Shit, why did I say that?

  Why would you draw attention to the pretty girls eyeing him?

  Moron!

  He quirked that damnable eyebrow. “Sorry?”

  Well, you’ve done it now. “The girls behind you. They were watching you at the bar.”

  Killian didn’t say anything. He stared at me inscrutably. I was beginning to consider rolling myself out of the booth when he said, “The bartender asked if we were here together.”

  My gaze flew to the hot bartender right as he looked up from pulling a pint. He offered me another small smile.

  I looked at Killian. “What did you say?”

  “Well, he didn’t ask in what way we were here together, so I told him ‘aye.’ He drew his own conclusions. I’m sure you could clear it up if you were that way inclined,” he drawled casually before taking a sip of beer.

  But his eyes never left mine, and there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at me.

  I felt a deep, throbbing tug low in my belly and had to pull my gaze from his or I was going to launch myself across the booth.

  “I’m not that way inclined,” I mumbled, and sipped the lager.

  Liking the taste, I took a bigger pull.

  “Skylar?”

  Oh God, why did I have to love the way he said my name? I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah?”

  His eyes roamed over my face as if he was searching for something, and then he shook his head. “Nothing.” He then took a huge swallow of lager and as I watched his Adam’s apple move with the gulp, I imagined running my tongue over it.

  Oh, hell.

  What was the matter with me?

  Usually, I could keep my wayward thoughts about Killian O’Dea suppressed. They were there but deep, deep in the back of my mind.

  Was it this place? Was this venue turning me on?

  “Skylar?”

  “Hmm?” I drew my eyes back to his face.

  His features were so taut, he looked almost angry. But his eyes were hot, not hard. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  My breath puffed out and I couldn’t hel
p but admit, “You don’t want to know.”

  We shared a frustrated look and then tore our gazes from each other. Why would Autumn do this to us? It was her fault. We’d been alone together a lot and had been very able to ignore the sexual tension between us.

  So why was it so freaking hard now?

  I blamed him. Usually he was a master at hiding his emotions, but he was looking at me like he wanted to see me naked.

  “Maybe we should go in.” I threw back the rest of the pint, feeling it slosh unpleasantly in my stomach.

  “Another beer to take in with us?” He slid out first.

  To get through the next ninety minutes alone with Killian? Probably not a bad idea.

  Once he’d bought us fresh pints, Killian led me through the double doors at the back of the bar. The walls were timber clad and painted a shiny white. Posters covered most of them. But it was the stairs that made me stop.

  I grinned and looked up at Killian who smiled back down at me. “The Steps of Fame.”

  Every step had a year painted on it, and next to it the artists who had played King Tut’s that year.

  “1993, Oasis, The Verve,” I mumbled as we slowly walked up. “1997, No Doubt . . . 1999, Biffy Clyro.” I nudged him. “One of your favorites.”

  He pointed as we walked up to 2004.

  I shook my head in awe. “Kasabian. The Killers. Oh man, this place is like porn for music lovers.”

  Killian laughed. “Weird analogy but okay.”

  I giggled as he pushed open a door at the top of the stairs and we were hit by the loud thrum of an amp growling.

  The room was tiny. When they said King Tut’s was an intimate venue, they weren’t kidding. If you got stuck at the door, you wouldn’t see the band because the small stage was tucked at the far right of the room.

  We walked farther in, the room not too crowded since Saul Crowe was still an up-and-comer. He was younger than I was expecting, maybe nineteen or twenty, with a mop of thick, curly blond hair and a baby face. He was sitting on a stool with a guitar in hand. He had a mouth organ resting around his neck and a pedal attached to a single drum at his feet.

  The amp purred behind him. Behind that, painted on the walls was King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut signage.

  We stood in among the smallish crowd where I could see.

  “I, uh, wrote this next song when I was fifteen and going through some shit,” he mumbled into the mic.

  As he shifted on his stool getting ready to play, I felt Killian lean into me. My breath caught.

  His own hot breath whispered across my ear. “Do you want to play here?”

  Surprise flashed through me, momentarily distracting me from how ridiculously sexy it was having him whisper in my ear. “What?”

  He smirked at my shocked expression. “I can get you booked here.”

  My heart pounded at the thought as my gaze flew back to the small stage. I looked back at him like he might be Santa Claus in disguise. “Really?”

  Killian’s eyes were soft, too soft, too warm on me. “If it’ll make you happy.”

  What . . . ?

  The sound of the mouth organ pierced the room, jolting us out of our intense staring match.

  The kid was good.

  Then he sang in a growling, heavy rock voice that was a complete surprise. The kid was better than good. He was excellent. And a momentary distraction from the man beside me.

  But only momentary.

  Because after an upbeat rock song with a hard country-folk edge, he played a beautiful acoustic ballad.

  Not merely beautiful.

  Sexy.

  How a nineteen- or twenty-year-old kid had the experience to speak of love and attraction the way he did, I didn’t know, but as he sang of “running his tongue down her spine” and “his little death from her moonlit kisses,” I stopped thinking about how impressed I was with him.

  And started thinking about what it would feel like to have Killian run his tongue down my spine.

  To feel those strong, beautiful hands gripping my hips, strumming my nipples like he delicately plucked the strings of his Taylor . . .

  My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, aware of everything about him as he stood in the dark beside me. His breathing sounded shallow too; he emanated hot tension. He shifted from one foot to the other, as if restless.

  He lifted his glass to take another drink and his arm brushed against mine, sending an overreaction of sensation, a prickle of goosebumps along my skin.

  After song five, I knew I needed to get away from Killian or I was going to ruin everything by throwing myself at him. I bravely made contact by nudging him and he frowned down at me.

  I mimicked the act of drinking and then hurried out and down to the bar.

  Having a floor between us really helped.

  I almost collapsed against the bar in relief and exhaustion.

  The bartender chuckled as he wandered down the quiet bar toward me. “Bad date?”

  No, the absolute opposite of a bad date. “No. Just too warm. Can I have a half pint of the King Tut’s Lager?”

  “Ye sure can.” He pulled a pint and then looked up at me quizzically. “Ye know, I’ve been trying tae place ye all night, thinking we’ve met before.”

  I tensed, not needing to deal with being recognized on top of my out-of-control attraction to a man I couldn’t have. I wrinkled my nose in confusion. “Oh. I don’t think so.”

  “No, but then ye started talking and it hit me.” He came back down the bar with my pint and leaned over, studying my face. “Ye look a bit like that singer who disappeared off the face of the planet.”

  I decided to head him off at the pass. “Skylar Finch, right?” I gave him what I hoped was a teasing smile along with a roll of my eyes.

  “Ah, ye get that a lot, do ye?” He grinned flirtatiously.

  “I do. All I need is the rainbow hair.”

  His eyes took in my own now-short, light blonde hair. “Nah, yours is good. My opinion?” He leaned closer, blue eyes dancing. “Ye’er way hotter than Skylar Finch.”

  I wanted to burst out laughing but instead gave him a pleased smile. “I’ve heard that too.”

  He chuckled and straightened up, so I handed him money for my drink. He took it but brushed his fingers over mine. “Do ye have tae go back up or can ye stay and talk tae me a while?”

  Deciding he was a much safer option than Killian, I agreed to stay. I let him flirt with me while I drank my lager, feeling loose and a bit tipsy. He asked me questions I couldn’t answer without giving away the truth, so I danced around them coyly, which in retrospect came off a lot like flirting.

  And that’s how Killian found me.

  I didn’t hear him come into the bar because of the music and I was laughing at something the bartender said. But I felt him as soon as he got within two yards.

  Killian’s hard gaze flicked between me and the bartender as he strode over to us and put his empty pint glass on the bar top with a calmness I saw through. He stared at me with a mix of annoyance, want, and incredulity.

  I didn’t know how to untangle myself from his eyes.

  I never could.

  Especially when they smoldered.

  I’d hung out at parties with Hollywood actors and charismatic rockers but I’d never met a man who actually smoldered until Killian O’Dea.

  “We need to leave.” He sounded so cold, so completely at odds with his expression.

  And I knew he was right. Whatever Autumn was trying to do here had worked, and it was dangerous. I nodded and pushed my nearly empty glass away. I said goodbye to the bartender who didn’t hide his disappointment that I was leaving.

  Killian rounded the bar, placed a possessive hand on my lower back, and gently pushed me forward.

  “Put your blazer on,” he commanded as he held the door open for me.

  “I’m not cold.” And I wasn’t. I was burning hot. Part alcohol, part utter sexual frustration.

  “You might not feel it but
it’s cold.”

  We hurried up the steps and I saw the light of an available taxi in the distance. Rather than put on my blazer, I prioritized getting home and away from Killian O’Dea and threw out my hand.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, releasing a long breath of relief as the taxi indicated it was pulling over for me. I gave Killian a quick look that didn’t land on any particular part of him. “Thanks for tonight.” I marched over to the taxi and pulled the door open. I’d put my foot in to slide inside and was pulling the door closed when I felt resistance.

  Killian.

  He nodded to me. “Get in.”

  Confused, I let go of the door and slid along the back seat, watching as he got in beside me and slammed the cab door. He rattled off my address to the driver and stared stonily ahead.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Making sure you get home all right.”

  I didn’t reply.

  I stared out the window at the passing lights of the city in the dark and tried not to think about the man beside me. But the more I tried not to think about him, the more I thought about him.

  I’d never experienced this kind of heightened attraction before. I knew it existed between me and Killian. It was there during the songwriting and it was definitely there in his office that day. However, we’d both had tight control over it.

  But now it was like I’d lost hold of the reins and whatever I was feeling was so big, it was spilling out all over Killian. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe it was him who had lost control and was making me careen all over the place. And now it was like he could sense my body’s reaction, sense that my breasts felt tight and swollen, that my nipples were two stiff peaks against my bra, and there was a ready, hot slickness between my legs.

  I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted Killian right then. Not even Micah.

  The longing was so sharp, it brought tears of frustration to my eyes.

  I blinked them away, grateful to see the streetlights reflecting off the dark waters of the Clyde and the sight of my building a short distance away.

  “I’ll pay,” Killian muttered.

  Even if I paid, he was still paying because the money I had was from the borrowed allowance he provided me.

  Shouldn’t that be a cold reminder of what he is to you, Skylar?