“I told you if you were there, I would want to be there as well. I wasn’t lying, but I’m not going to compromise my own sense of right and wrong for you, Asa. If you had just explained what all this was, I would’ve been all over it. I would’ve been more excited than I already was to spend an evening out with you; you wanted me to fail this test.” God, he was always so damn slippery and convoluted. I was never going to get ahold of him tightly enough to keep him.
He leaned forward and I had to move my arms when his forehead landed to rest against my middle. I gave up the fight and curled my fingers through the supersoft hair that dusted the back of his head.
“You’re absolutely right.” I wish those words thrilled me; instead they made me really sad.
I sighed and looked up as the chipper server swung by with our cocktails. She gave me a saucy look when she noticed the way Asa was curled into me and I wanted to tell her it was hardly as romantic or sweet as it looked.
“Have a seat, the show is about to start.” She sauntered off and Asa pulled his head up as his hands curled almost desperately around my waist.
“Will you believe me if I tell you I’m sorry?”
I couldn’t answer that because I didn’t know, and he was so sorry for so many things I wasn’t sure I could handle being one more of them. So instead I stayed silent as he pulled me around him and settled me into the seat next to him. I picked up the fancy drink and instead of sipping on it, savoring the quality ingredients and old-school craftsmanship that went into cocktails back in the day, I slammed the entire thing down, gasping as the bourbon burned.
“What kind of show?” I gurgled the words out as Asa leaned over to place a kiss on my bare shoulder. The tension was gone, but now the air between us was filled with something heavier and denser.
“Burlesque. And yes, they have a cabaret license.” He nudged a drink toward me and I picked it up gratefully. I was back to not being sure if I wanted to hurt him physically because of how quick he was to toy with my emotions, or if I wanted to drag him to the nearest flat surface and climb all over him because I wanted to show him that no matter what he did, I wanted him. “Actually Salem knows one of the dancers from when she lived in L.A. She was the one that told me they were coming through town.”
Salem had led an interesting life before coming to Denver, and I couldn’t say it surprised me that she knew someone that was a burlesque dancer.
“I’ve never seen a burlesque show before.” The lights in the warehouse dipped down, and a soft glow from the stage seemed to be the only light as the Killers started to pump through an unseen sound system. It was an oddly perfect modern musical choice for a place that tried hard to create a Prohibition Era vibe.
Asa’s hand slid across the back of my neck under the heavy fall of my hair, and I felt his lips at my ear. It was so dark I could only feel him, not see him, and that was erotic and stimulating as hell. He made my breath catch when he whispered in my ear, “I really am sorry.”
I watched as a leggy blonde obviously trying to channel Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca slithered onto the stage.
“I know you are. I just wish you didn’t have to be.” And that pretty much summed up how I felt about all the things he was sorry for in his life. I was glad it was so dark because suddenly I felt moisture, hot and pressing in my eyes. It was a date I would never forget and I didn’t mean that in any kind of good way.
CHAPTER 13
Asa
If she had merely been mad at me, annoyed that I purposely played her into thinking that we were doing something wrong, doing something illegal, I could have simply kept kissing her neck and rubbing her arm and I knew she would’ve forgiven me and let it drop. But she was hurt, disappointed that I had ruined our evening out together, and had done it on purpose. I wish I could say I hadn’t known what would happen when I took her, with no explanation, to the middle of nowhere to a place that looked like it should be in a movie or a comic book, but I had. Somehow all of the what-I-had-done and the what-I-would-inevitably-do had converged, and it seemed like a good idea to see how far she was really willing to go for me. I wouldn’t really ask her to do anything wrong—hell, I had spent a solid month trying to keep her from doing regrettable things—but the way she was under my skin, the way she somehow shined light into my darkest places, made me want to challenge her.
She was sitting stiffly next to me, her arms crossed over her chest while she held herself ramrod straight to avoid leaning into the arm I had thrown across the back of her chair. Her eyes were locked on the stage as half-naked girl after half-naked girl shimmied and shook her stuff. If I hadn’t been such an asshole she would probably have enjoyed herself. As it was, her pretty mouth was in a tight, flat line and there was a delicate flutter in her cheek as her teeth clenched. It made it clear to me that we should probably go and I should probably leave her alone—like I had known from the very start. This was what it was going to be like when I finally did end up doing something that was unforgivable. Only then, hearts would be involved and it would feel a thousand times worse.
I moved my fingers so they could brush against her long fall of hair. In the almost dark of the warehouse it looked darker, with none of the pretty red tones in it, but it still felt like silk. I had said I was sorry and I meant it. If she didn’t want to forgive me, I would never blame her for it.
Suddenly her head turned and her dark brown eyes locked on mine. They gleamed in the ambient light and I hated myself just a little bit more when I realized that the reason they were sparkling was the light catching the moisture trapped in their depths. I was supposed to be past the point in my life where I made beautiful, strong women cry over me, and the urge to get on my knees and beg her to forgive me, to plead with her to understand that I tried, I really did, almost overwhelmed me.