Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Exactly. I have f—” I grimaced. “Been with a lot of women. I’ve never really cared if they regretted it afterward because they were all clearly in the consent column before and during.”
“I get it. You’re a rock star. Everyone wants it.” She put up her hands and rolled her eyes.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I care if you regret this, Zoe. I care about what you think. I care about being in the right state of mind when it comes to touching you, because I care more about your feelings than I do about getting my hands on you, which, trust me, is a first.” I pointed at her. “And don’t you dare pull that shit about not wanting you, when you know it’s not true. I want you so badly that I’m hard the second I smell a damned coconut!”
“Well, I bet you’re fun in the produce aisle.” A ghost of a smile curved her lips.
“I’ve been banned by your local grocery store.”
She laughed.
“I’m a mess. You’re on the management staff. I heard what you said up there, loud and clear. I know how important your job is to you. It’s…complicated, and I was trying to put some distance between us for your own good.”
She studied me carefully. “Are you done now?”
“I don’t know,” I answered as truthfully as possible.
“Well, I do.” She swallowed. “I want whatever this is.”
My eyes widened and my heart stumbled. “You want… What about your job? I mean, I’d never let Ben fire you, but I know you’re worried about perceptions.”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided if you’re willing to be real with me…then I’m willing risk whatever the consequences might be.”
I stared at her in openmouthed shock. She thought I was worth the risk. Me. The guy who’d proven himself as anything but reliable. Perfect, gorgeous, rule-abiding Zoe wasn’t just coloring outside her lines, she was obliterating them. For me.
“Say something,” she begged, her voice slipping to a whisper.
You’d better earn it.
“All right,” I said with a nod.
“All right?”
“We have two shows in the next six days. Let me get through them without…” Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. “And then we’ll see. I need to know I’m not using you.”
Every inch between us went tight in the quiet.
“Okay,” she finally agreed, breaking the silence but not the tension. “But…” She winced, looking away before steadying herself and meeting my gaze. “But if you end up using someone and it’s not me, I don’t know—”
“Won’t happen.” There was zero chance in hell.
“I’m sure you mean that, but I’m not exactly new to backstage, Nix.”
I came around the island and took her face in my hands. “You’re new to this, just like me. And I’m telling you that I don’t want anyone else.”
For now. The flash of sadness in her eyes said it for her.
“I promise. No one else.” I’d never offered that to another woman in my life. Then again, I’d never met one I wanted to keep for myself either.
“Okay.” She stood, brushed her lips over mine, and walked away, scooping up her planner and phone. “Now get packed.”
“Just like that?” I asked.
“Just like that,” she agreed. “You made me a promise. I trust you to keep it. It’s that simple. One week.”
“Six days!” I countered as she walked out, tossing me a grin over her shoulder.
These were about to be the longest six days of my life.
12
ZOE
This had been the longest six days of my life.
I had to give it to Nixon. If he’d been trying to heighten the tension between us, then mission accomplished. I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. Couldn’t stop fantasizing about what would happen once tonight’s show was over, and we were on our way home to Colorado.
Then again, he’d probably want us to wait until tomorrow, just to be sure he could handle the aftermath of the second show on his own the way he had the first. He’d kept his word. No alcohol. No drugs. No other women. And while he’d occasionally brush his lips over mine when we were alone, he hadn’t taken it further, even after the first show. Plus, I was pretty sure he enjoyed torturing me.
Like right this very minute.
I didn’t need to turn around in the dark, hidden little spot I’d found offstage to know those were his hands on my hips, his lips at the shell of my ear, his chest pressing against my back. The second he touched me, my entire body started to hum.
And it was humming.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“The bass guitar is bringing them down,” I lied, motioning to the stage, where a local band was opening. Not that it wasn’t true. Seven to One was pretty damn good. The vocals were hot, lead guitar impressive, and the drummer was on point. They had the sound, the talent, and the looks…except for the bass. I’d watched about a hundred videos of their live shows, and they all told the same story—the problem was the six-foot-three model with shit timing.