Chapter Eighteen
Bo
“Dammit!” I growl as my front door slams behind me.
A few minutes after Ember left, I walked out of the center to an empty sidewalk. I called and texted to see if she was OK, but of course she didn’t respond. I finally received a text from Monica saying, “Everything’s fine.”
No, it’s not.
I know Monica’s on my side, but I also know I’m missing something. Something is holding November back from me, and it’s not just work.
Rae’s not home, so I tear downstairs to the studio, grabbing my bottle of Jack as I pass through the dining room. Damn, her kiss tasted better than ever—I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know her heart still belonged to me, and that kiss proved it still does. Shit. Whiskey burns my throat; straight from the bottle is best. I wasn’t lying. I’m not going to chase after her forever. If she wants to act like a child, she can do it somewhere else.
After an hour of the Tennessee waltz with my liver, I hear my front door open.
“Rae?” I slur up the stairs.
“Spencer?”
Ainsley.
“In the studio, Ainsley.” I set the glass bottle on the lid of my piano.
“I thought you had the concert tonight,” she chirps as she walks through the studio.
“Then why are you here?” I watch her cheeks redden under my gruff reply.
Ainsley clears her throat and licks her cherry lips before speaking. “Well, I saw Rachel and some guy at Les’s, and you weren’t with them ...” She stalks toward me with panther-like eyes.
“Yeah?” I turn on the bench and face her. “You didn’t answer my question—why are you here?” Cockiness takes over and turns up the corners of my mouth. I know exactly what she’s doing here.
In a second, I regret my baiting tone. Ainsley pushes my knees apart with her knee, sliding her slender legs between mine. Her chest is inches from my face, those perfect breasts taunting my will. Another second passes and her bubblegum-like scent greets the whiskey that’s overriding my system.
“Ainsley, stop.” I swat her hand away from my shoulder, but she only presses forward.
“Oh, come on now, Spencer, you don’t want me to stop—you never have.” She picks up both of my hands and wraps them around her waist. A tan strip of skin on her stomach grins at me when she lifts her arms back to my shoulders.
I’m supposed to hate her. She took advantage of my grief after my parents died. It’s hard to count her transgressions when her fingers tickle the back of my neck, chasing goosebumps across my chest.
“She’s got you all twisted. You think you want her, that you love her.” Ainsley throws her head back in mocking laughter. “She doesn’t know you the way I know you. We were each other’s first...” She lifts one leg at a time and squares herself on my hardening lap. Her delicate hands twist like thorny vines through my hair.
“Get off of me, Ainsley,” I grunt into her ear as she leans forward to brush her lips across my neck.
“You hide from me any chance you get. I’m not taking no for an answer anymore. You can’t hide how you feel about me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes sketch me from head to toe. Forget about her, she walked away from you—twice, judging by her absence after the concert.”
She’s good.
Gripping her tiny hips, I consider my options. Jack’s betrayed me once again, and all I can feel is her ass rubbing against me. All I can smell is her want. My moment of indecision is a second too long, leaving an opening just big enough for her tiny body to slither through as her lips sear into mine. The force of her kiss sends my back into the piano keys. I ignore their warning; I’m tired of losing.
Chapter Nineteen
Ember
“What the hell happened, November?” Monica volleys her attention between the road and me as my tears streak her car window. We’ve been sitting in the DROP parking lot for over half an hour in heavy silence.
“I just want to go.” I sniff and look at her through swollen eyes.
“Where are you going? It’s Thursday.” Monica reminds me that I’ve still got work in the morning.
“I’m calling in tomorrow. I just have a zillion phone conferences—I can do that from home.” I rub my eyes and tie my distressed hair away from my neck.
“What. Happened?” Monica begs, locking her car doors to prevent my exit.
I breathe out the sordid tale in one breath, my throat cinching around the details of Bo’s anger—and his kiss. She shakes her head and rests it against the back of her seat.
“First of all...your parents’ song?”
“Not now, Monica...I’ll explain that later.” I smirk at her attention to detail.
“I’m sorry, Ember. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I just...don’t know why you don’t want to be with him.”