Christ.
My cell vibrates again, jumping on the counter, and I reach for it automatically. The text on the screen reads, ‘Going to a party. Join me? Dakota.’
Dakota. My lips pull into a grin. She didn’t call or text since yesterday, and I was afraid she wasn’t… Wasn’t interested.
Pathetic, Zane. Fucking pathetic.
I stare at the text. A party. The way my head is pounding, and my vision keeps going blurry, I should say fuck no. I haven’t slept a wink since the nightmare, and that was at three in the morning.
Need your beauty sleep, Zane?
I rub my eyes and let out a breath. She texted me. She will be there. I want to see her. It’s like an itch under my skin, a tug inside my chest. Who the hell cares about sleep now?
Before I know it, I’m locking up the shop, getting into my truck and texting to ask her for the address.
I’m insane, I know. So what.
She texts me right back and directs me north, to a fancy neighborhood with huge mansions, towering over cast iron garden gates. I wonder who lives here, and why we’re going to this party. Must be a friend of Dakota’s.
I wonder if the person throwing the party knows who will be there. Probably not.
The place is easy to find, the lights and noise giving it away. Not shocked to see the house is as huge as the rest of them on the street, I park my truck and climb out.
Wealth always surprises me. You’d think I’d be immune to it by now. After all, Rafe is quite rich and so are Tessa and other people I hang out with. But every time I step into a house like this one, I need some time to wrap my head around the amount of money some people have and the stupid ways in which they choose to spend it.
I mean, if they have no idea what to do with all their cash, can’t they just ask me? I’ve seen real poverty, and hey, it’s not hard to find. Just a few streets away, there are people sleeping on the sidewalk. Instead of spending thousands to build a patio surrounded by a pool with alligators made of stone poking their ugly snouts out of the water, why don’t you donate that money and relax?
Jesus H. Christ. I rub my hands over the shaved sides of my head and suck on the barbell in my tongue. Have to calm down. People earn their money and can do whatever the hell they want with it. I shouldn’t care.
It’s just that I’ve taken people off the streets and would give my right arm for that money so that I can set them up, pay for their medical care, their lessons, their rent and all they need.
Help Emma, although Matt says her insurance covers everything. Everything when they can do nothing for her. Maybe if I had this money, I could take her to better specialists who could cure her. Maybe…
Shit. Flashes of her thin face fill my thoughts, and I just want to sink down and howl, when I hear Dakota’s laughter.
Silver bells and crystals. Has to be her. I cut through the lawn, past groups of people drinking and talking. Somehow I know that when I find her, things will be okay. I’ll be okay.
I spot her in a small group. They seem to be having fun, and I slow down. Maybe I should have a drink first, leave her with the fun people.
Just as I’m about to turn and go, she glances my way, and her eyes light up. Transfixed, I watch her as she starts toward me, her dark hair framing the pale oval of her face. She’s dressed in black shorts and ripped black tights and a tight blue top that hugs her slender curves and shows off her perky tits.
And of course my dick goes from zero to hundred in two seconds flat. This girl acts on my body like an energy drink. On my mind, too, but I try hard not to think about that.
She walks toward me. “You made it,” she says and lifts her arms, as if asking for permission to hug me.
I step closer and let her hold me for a long moment before I return the hug. It’s crazy how good her touch makes me feel. My mind blanks, though in a good way, and I grin as I lock my arms around her waist and lift her into the air.
She squeals, and it makes me laugh, until I let her down and catch the flash of fear in her eyes.
“Dakota?” I lift my hands to her face and cup her cheeks. Her skin is cold. “Oh shit.”
“I’m okay.” She puts her hands over mine, keeping them there. “It’s just…” She swallows hard. “For a moment it felt like falling. I’m scared of falling.”
“I won’t let you fall.” I wipe my thumbs over her lips. “I swear.”
She nods, and her smile slowly returns, the one that makes my breath catch and the world shine brighter. But as I hold her, I think that I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep. I’m the one falling. How the hell can I keep her from tumbling down?
Dakota’s friends come over, and she introduces them to me. Luke the lead guitarist, Quinn the second electric guitar and Riley, who’s the bassist. Turns out nobody really knows the guy who’s throwing the party. They got the invite through the friend of a friend.
Figures.
They quickly drift away to talk and flirt and drink, and I sort of expect Dakota to follow them, but she doesn’t. She takes my hand, tangles her fingers with mine and smiles. A calm settles over me. She’s got, like, a magical touch. Makes me peaceful and hard at the same time.
Fucking weird.
“You know, I may leave town for a while,” she whispers.
A sort of weird seizure goes through my chest, constricting my lungs. “Where will you go?”
“Home. Tessa can’t host me forever, and I still haven’t found a place. I mean, you said it yourself: I get along fine with my parents. I can stay there until I find a roommate.”
I say nothing, my heart thumping too fast. I look down at our joined hands.
She tugs on me, and I walk with her. As if by silent agreement, we move away from the pool, toward the back of the garden. I tug back and pull her to me, so I can slip my arms around her tiny waist. Her large blue eyes twinkle. Her hands land on my chest, and I dip my head to kiss her lips. Nightmares be damned. This feels so good.
She kisses me back, her lips soft, her taste sweet, her body pliant and warm pressed along mine. Our tongues meet and clash in a furious dance that sends electric bursts straight to my balls.
Holy fuck.
Voices drift toward us, and she pulls back a little. A group is wandering toward us, and regretfully, I let her go.
“You know,” she says, “I’m a good cook.”
I lift a brow at that, because I must have missed something. I reach down to adjust my suddenly too tight jeans. “Good for you.”
She laughs, and the sound makes me want to fall on the cool grass and smile up at the starry sky. “What I mean is, if I were your roommate, I’d cook nice things for you.”
The words throw me smack back into reality. Tension returns, making my back cramp. I pat my pockets for my cigarettes. “I bet you would.”
“My mom always says the way to a man’s heart goes through his stomach.”