She presses against me again and her eyes spark as her hand slips to my package. “But I have a feeling things are about to get exciting.”
I close my eyes and try to remember what it was about her, other than the accent, that drove me so crazy. But all I see are Lucky’s big, whiskey eyes set in flawless skin the color of caramel. And all I feel is a sick pit in my stomach, knowing it’s not her hands on me.
“Listen, Amilia,” I say, drawing away. “I’m not really feeling this tonight. But, I think you should hang out and have fun, get to know some of the other guys or whatever.”
I leave her standing there and head to the bar, intending to get another beer. Instead, I just keep moving, right out the door onto the sidewalk. I walk for a few blocks before a cab happens by. I wave it down and head back to the hotel.
On the way, I pull out my phone. I open Skype and stare at the status circle next to Lucky’s name. I’ve watched it alternate between yellow and green night after night as the party raged in the suite outside my room. Every time it’s turned green, telling me she’s right here, right now, I’ve wanted to reach through the cyber and grab onto her.
And right now, it’s green.
I start to type before I can change my mind. There’s no doubt that I’m that girl’s worst nightmare, whether she knows it or not, but she’s woven herself into the fabric of my mind. She’s part of every thought I have—the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep.
But that’s not what I say. I also decide not to say anything about Amilia. Keeping it on the professional side is less likely to scare her away or piss her off right now. So I just say that, since Freddie didn’t work out, I’ve got a few more producers’ names and numbers if she wants to talk to them.
But I want to say so much more.
I want to say that, totally against my will, I’ve fallen hard for her. I want to say I miss her smile and her frown, her sass and her fire, her voice and her talent. And her touch. God, I miss that most of all.
There’s not a day that I don’t relive every kiss, every caress, from that night in my hotel room. But I don’t regret not going the extra step. I didn’t handle it as well as I probably should have, but I was right to stop her. She thought she wanted what I give everyone else, but what I said was true. I give them nothing. I want Lucky to have an actual piece of me—a part of me I’ve never given anyone before. If it happens between us, it’s going to be because she gets that she’s not just another fuck. She’s going to know how much I care about her.
And the only way she’ll know that is if I spend the next two months showing her.
I hit the send icon and wait. Her status circle is still green. She’s there. But as much as I might want to, I can’t make her reply.
The driver drops me at my hotel, and when I get to the room, there’s still no reply. I check again and her circle’s gone yellow, indicating she’s let the app go dormant.
So I guess I have my answer. She doesn’t want to talk to me.
I drop onto the bed and only realize I’ve dozed off when the sound of people in the next room filters through my door. Sounds like Grim and Jess have brought the party home with them.
I drag myself up and shuck off my jeans, pulling my phone from my pocket to check again for Lucky. Still no reply. I crawl back onto the bed and bury my face in the pillow just as the door clicks opens. I sit up as a pair of scantily clad bottle blondes slip through.
“Grim want us for you,” the shorter one with enormous tits says in a heavy French accent, unbuttoning her top. “He say…” She trails off and looks to the other one for help.
“He want you get the dick from pantalon,” she says, pointing at my package, “and make some French * before go too long.”
“Before go too late,” the shorter one corrects. She comes closer, dropping her shirt to the floor. There’s no bra. “He say we come here to fuck you. He say we no can go if we no fucking.”
I haul myself up from the bed. “Go out there and tell Grim that I’m sending you back to him with my compliments.”
The taller one follows her friend closer, a deep crease forming between her brows. “You no want?”
“Not tonight, doll,” I say, taking one of each of their arms in my grasp and escorting them back to the door. “If you want to fuck someone, you can fuck Grim.”
“He get fucking,” the shorter one says, and when I get them to the door, I see she’s right. He’s got his head lolled against the back of the couch with both hands twisted into the hair of the curvy black woman whose head’s bobbing between his legs. Grim’s always been into public displays, so this is pretty normal for him.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, depositing the girls outside my door. I scoop up the shirt from my floor and hand it to the half naked one. “I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
Grim’s head lifts at the sound of my voice and he cuts me a look. “Get your fucking rocks off, Gunner. Your fucking cock’s screwed on too tight.”