“A documentary isn’t exactly my thing. You know that. I know that. They know that. But apparently, it’s a necessity to polish my tarnished image. An image that I could give a flying fuck about.”
“You care,” she says and turns to face me, those intelligent eyes of hers studying me. Looking closer than I want them to. “You care more than you let on.”
“I don’t need to be a media darling. Never have been. Never will be.”
“And yet you still care.”
“Only to the extent that people still buy my music.”
“Is that why you’re solo? You need to chase a new high?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you left something good once before to chase the high. It seems only fitting you’d do the same again.”
There’s the dig. The subtle reminder that I walked away from her but no acknowledgement over my lack of options. It was my dad’s fists, his disapproval, and staying with her, or leaving it all behind and trying to make something of myself.
There is no correlation between back then and what happened with Hawkin.
No connection other than my dad fucking things up for me once again.
But he doesn’t belong in this moment. In my head. Not when the woman I’ve thought about more times than not over the years is standing before me, tempting me with her sass and her grit and a body that I’m more than itching to touch.
It’s amazing how easily you can disregard how connected you are to someone when there’s so much other than noise in your life. But I’ve never forgotten Bristol. She’s everything a sane man would want. She’s the ultimate prize, but I’ve never been in the running. And I never will be.
“I’ll give you that one dig, Shug. But how come you’re allowed to bring up the past and I’m not?” I take a few steps toward her, the urge to touch her stronger with each passing second. “I mean, if we’re going to go there, then let’s talk about the last time we saw each other.”
She stares at me with what feels like a million unspoken thoughts in her eyes that I wish she’d voice. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Liar.
“No?”
“We knew what we walked into that night. We did it willingly. We did it knowing we were going to both walk away with a bit more closure than we had before. I woke up. You were gone.” She swallows forcibly but keeps her chin high as her words hit me where it hurts. “You made it more than clear that’s all there was to it. Even picking up the phone was too much for you. I wasn’t just some groupie, you know.”
The hurt in her voice hides beneath the bravado. “No one ever said you were.”
“You didn’t have to say it, Vince. Actions spoke loud enough.”
I sigh. What did I expect her to think? “I had my reasons. Ones that—”
“Save them. I don’t care.”
“That’s not fair.” Fuck. I run a hand through my hair, wanting a drink but needing to have this conversation without it. I purse my lips and shake my head. “Guilty as charged.” I hold my hands up. If only she understood the why behind it. “Walking away is something I’ve seemed to have mastered and mastered well.”
“We called a truce. It doesn’t matter anymore.” Her smile is shaky, but there nonetheless. “See how that works? How easy it is?”
She says the words but for the life of me, I don’t believe her any more than I believe myself.
“Nothing is ever that easy, Shug.”
Our gazes hold. “True.” She lifts her chin at the platinum record on the wall for Make Me Fall, Bent’s massively successful single. “Why’d you leave Bent?”
“It’s a long story.” I point to my guitar. “And McMann wants progress that I can’t make if I’m telling it.”
“You’re so full of shit. You said yourself that your muse is dead.” She lifts her eyebrows.
Christ. Do we really have to do this? There are much better things I’d rather be doing than talking about this shit.
“Like I said, it’s a long story.”
“Most are.” She shrugs. “What happened?”
“Hawke and I got in a fight. Words were exchanged. Threats were made. A lot of things were said that can’t be unsaid. Happy?”
“No, because it doesn’t seem that you are. What did you fight about?”
Nothing. Everything.
I’ve been asked this question a hundred times and never wanted to talk about it. Why do I want to talk about it with her?
I lace my hands behind my neck and sigh. “Look. I was in a bad place and said a lot of shitty things. I made my bed and now I’m lying in it.”
“It’s easy to take words back. Even easier to say you’re sorry for what you did.”
I meet her eyes and feel like she’s talking about more than just Hawkin right now.
“It’s complicated.” My answer stands for the fight and how I left things with her last time. I wonder if she knows that.
“Misery often is.”
“Who said I’m miserable?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You forget that I know you too.”
And isn’t that the fuck and the fight of it? She knows me, and as much as I like that, it also means she can see right through me.
“You’re right. You do. And that means you know the only thing on my mind right now is how I don’t give a flying fuck about truces.”
“What do truces have to do with anything?”
“They don’t. Not when all you want to do is talk about shit that doesn’t matter while I stand here obsessing over how much I want to kiss you again.” Her cleavage is looking pretty spectacular with her arms crossed like that, and I’m desperate to stop talking about futile crap.
“Vince. I’m serious. Clearly you’re—”
“I’m serious too. I’ve humored you. Answered your questions even. Studio time is precious and we’re wasting it, so now it’s time to get back to what I want to talk about.”
“And that was what?”
Jesus. She even has to ask? I stride the three steps forward and grab the back of her neck. I’ve had plenty of women, I won’t lie. But there has always been something . . . magical about Bristol. Her intelligence, her beauty, her presence. It seems like anytime I’m near her all I can think about is want. So I say the words that need no further explanation. “This. Just fucking this,” I say before slanting my lips over hers and claiming them.
Her startled gasp gives me access, and I slip my tongue between her lips to meet with hers.
Fucking hell.
My groan says it all as she reacts and gives in to the desperation of a kiss that feels like we’ve anticipated for seven years.
I’m still nowhere near good enough for her, but fuck if I’m not going to enjoy every goddamn second of this kiss.
It’s been too long.
Too long without her taste. That soft moan in the back of her throat. The sting of her fingernails as they dig into my biceps. The feel of her body against mine.
I take without asking. Tongue and teeth and lips. Fingers tangled in her hair.
Already wanting more.
Already needing more.
“No.” Bristol presses against my chest and pushes me back. “I can’t. We can’t.”
“We did. We are. We will again.” I reach for her again and she shakes her head forcefully, her eyes wide.
“No. I’ll get fired.”
I snort. “You’re so full of shit.”
“No. I’m serious.” She paces the length of the room. Her hands moving just as much as her feet. “Lilah Glasnow was fired last month. She slept with a client. McMann found out.”
“Like I give a fuck about Lilah what’s-her-face.”
“But you give a fuck about me so it should matter. I mean . . .”
Jesus. She’s cute when she rambles, and I’m definitely not complaining about getting to watch the sway of her hips as she paces, her words tumbling out.
“Bristol. For the love of God, stop.” I stride over to her and block her path. She tries to dodge to the right and I stop her. Then the left and she collides squarely with me. Tits against my chest. Her lips close once again. “Kissing’s not sleeping so we’re all good.”
“This isn’t a joke. I’m serious.”
“I am too. Fuck McMann. How would he ever know that we kissed?” We need to get over this hurdle, Shug, because I plan on doing a whole lot more than just kissing when it comes to you. “Who’s going to tell him?”
“He’ll just know. Someone will say something and—”
“Come here,” I say.
“Absolutely not. Don’t order me—”