“When do you get home?”
“Tuesday,” he answers, and his gaze grows even more intense. “I really want to see you, Lucky. It’s been a rough couple of months, not knowing where we stand.”
I huff a derisive laugh. “You knew exactly where I stood that last night in Miami.”
“I did,” he says with an almost nod. “But I don’t now. You were pissed last I saw you, and you haven’t answered any of my messages.”
Everything in me is completely at odds. I ache for him in places I don’t want to, but I’m still so pissed. “I have to be the only girl in history to try to get into your pants that you shut down,” I hiss through a tight jaw.
His expression shifts into a mix of frustration and anger as he drops his head back against the wall. “Because you’re the only girl who’s ever tried to get into my pants that I gave a shit about.”
There’s a noise, then an empty beer can comes flying in from the right and hits the wall next to Tro’s head.
“What the fuck, man!” Jamie’s voice says from a distance.
Tro chucks the can back at him. “Get the fuck out of my room, asshole.”
“It’s our last fucking day on the road. You need to drop this hermit shit and come out here and fix this thing with Grim.”
The picture is a blur of light and dark as Tro gets up and goes to where Jamie is. “I said, get the fuck out of my room.”
There’s a slam, then he turns his phone back on himself. “He’s a douche.”
“And crazy. You haven’t been a hermit.”
His eyes widen as he moves to the bed and sits against the headboard. “How would you know?”
I shrug and try to make like it’s no big thing, but I feel my cheeks warm. “I just saw some stuff.”
He grins. “Have you been stalking me, Lucky?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because that’s how I really want to spend my time.”
“So, tell me what you’ve seen,” he says, and I hate the amusement I hear in his voice.
“The usual.”
“Meaning?”
“You fucking every woman in Europe.”
He slouches deeper into the pillows. “I suppose that’s fair.” His head quirks to the side. “Not true, but fair.”
“You’re denying that actress in Paris?”
He shakes his head. “She went home with Jamie.”
“Or the Bulgarian princess?”
A cocky half smile tugs at his mouth. “That almost got me arrested, but it wasn’t this trip. Guess the press dredged that one up for something to write about when they didn’t think I was getting in enough trouble this time around.”
“You’re never going to make me believe that there’s not groupies in your bed every night.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You almost sound like you care.”
I catch myself chewing my lower lip and make myself stop.
When I don’t answer he gives me a look, then the camera blurs again as he gets up and crosses the room. He pulls open the door and turns the screen out so I’m looking at the living room. Jamie and Grim are packing up their stuff.
“Hey, Grim?” Tro yells into the room.
His head pivots and he glares daggers at Tro. And holy shit. Even with the crappy resolution of the picture I can tell his face is a mess.
“How many women have I fucked this trip?” Tro asks.
Grim just glares at him, then turns and disappears through a door on the other side of the room.
“He’s *-whipped,” Jamie yells.
“Pussy-whipped?” I ask, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. “Whose * would that be?”
Tro turns the screen back to face himself and ducks into his room. “I’ll give you one guess.”
I shake my head. “Sure as hell isn’t mine. You didn’t want my * when you had the chance.”
His eyes flash wide, a mix of anger and surprise. “You really think I didn’t want you, Lucky? Seriously? Are you fucking blind?”
“My eyesight is just fine,” I say, tapping a finger under my eye. “Didn’t miss a thing when you rejected me and walked away.”
“I have wanted you from the moment I saw you backstage at Rockefeller Center. I fucking fantasize about how you’d feel under me, over me, beside me, every fucking night. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, Lucky, but I don’t even know how to do that—fuck someone who matters to me.” He gives a small shake of his head and a disgusted laugh as he drops his gaze from the screen. “I mean, when you never want to let someone out of your arms once they’re in them, how does that work?”
My heart is hammering and there are shooting stars flickering through my vision. “What time Tuesday?”
His eyes find mine again through the screen. “I’ll text you the flight. You’ll be there?”
I nod. Just once, but his face changes the minute my head starts to move. He rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “Thank fucking God.”
“Didn’t know you were a believer.”