Desire Me

“Georgie isn’t a social butterfly like I am.” She’s also not academically inclined, a trait from her father’s side. If she didn’t have beauty, she’d have nothing at all.

Mother falls into that alarming silence again. I’m as desperate to know what she’s thinking as I am to fuck Sloane again.

“We’ve done our jobs and kept the press away from her. Do you think that would’ve been achieved if she were gallivanting all over the place?”

“Done in the right circles, I’m sure it would be.”

With a dramatic sigh, I school my features into disinterest and glance around the restaurant, all wood and glass with beautiful China and fine crystal. I’ve not purchased much this trip, but I’ve done more than my share of browsing. Another idea strikes me. I smile at how filled I am with inspiration.

“I want to buy Georgie the diamond and amethyst necklace. That might cheer her up more than a dinner party.” Which doesn’t seem to be happening since Sloane hasn’t responded.

For a moment, I don’t think my mother buys my generosity. She’s going to call me down and point out that I’m making the gesture to get her off my back, rather than really wanting to cheer my daughter up.

A tense moment passes, then she nods and makes eye contact with our waiter to indicate we’re ready to settle the tab.



Sloane

I reread Cassandra’s message, not caring that everything has fallen silent around me. When Georgie and I walked into the suite, we found my band members preparing to head out for a night on the town.

They aren’t looking at me, though. They’re staring at Georgie. She looks younger than she is—and that’s fucking young enough.

“How fucking old are you?” Kiln leans against the back of the sofa and waits for a response.

“Georgie, Kiln. Kiln, Georgie,” I introduce and add, “none of your fucking business,” as endless possibilities run through my head at the meaning behind Cassandra’s invitation. None of them are good. If she’s beholden to me, I’m fucking sure she’ll somehow find a way to have me beholden to her.

“Hi,” Georgie says into the silence, her gaze touching on each of them before finding mine again. “I’m a huge fan of Phoenix Rising.”

“You and millions of others,” Quint says with a cool smile.

“Yes, well, I’m his number one fan,” she informs them, pointing to me.

Maitland scratches his scalp, not disturbing his man bun. He’s staring at her face, her mouth, her body, revealed in tight leather pants and a small halter top. On her feet are Doc Martens almost identical to a pair I own. I have no fucking idea how she’s wearing that shit in this Gulf Coast heat, but she’s oozing sensuality. My only regret is her lack of make-up. Had she worn it, she would’ve looked older.

“You have ID on you?” Maitland asks with a straight face.

She laughs and finger combs more of her windblown hair. Obviously, she thinks his question is a joke because she waves it away and walks further into the room. Either she isn’t picking up on the guys’ unwelcome hostility or she’s ignoring it.

Seeds of confrontation blow through the air. I need to get her in my bedroom, so I can get this over with. As I rub my eyes, she zeroes in on the bar.

Before she says anything or makes a move, I speak. “Fuck, no. You’re not fucking drinking, Georgiana.”

My tone startles everyone. Even Kiln straightens, but Georgie narrows her eyes again.

Raising my hand for silence, I sigh under my breath at the building storm in Georgie’s eyes, but hit Kiln with a peremptory strike before he opens his fucking trap. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. Before you say one fucking thing.” Anger bubbles to the surface and I glare at her in warning. She claims to know everything about me, but I guarantee she doesn’t know what the look I’m giving her means.

Jaeger has paid off too many women to count to keep this shit quiet. The guys move restlessly, comprehending my mood.

“Why did you bring me here?” she finally asks. “Is it to watch over me or to fuck me?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

Her nostrils flare and she starts for the door. “Right. Remind me when hot rockers have time to fucking babysit?”

“When girls are one fucking high from OD’ing.”

I block her escape, forcing her to stop. She has yet to sit her overnight bag down, although, for me, I could get a week’s worth of clothes in the thing. That’s how stuffed she has it.

“I don’t need a keeper, but I want a drink, and I want to come. If you can’t give me either, I’m leaving.”

“You’re sixteen. I can’t give you either.” I remember, too late, that I came in her mouth. Not that I can forget it, but I don’t want to bring anything up in front of the others.

Clenching her jaw, she looks at the floor, going silent. My secret is hers, too, and it’s safe. “I can’t sleep without a drink,” she admits quietly.

“Why?” Quint growls the word.

Elle Boon, C.C. Cartwright, Catherine Coles, Mia Epsilon, Samantha Holt, J.W. Hunter, Allyson Lindt, Kathryn Kelly, Tracey Smith's books