“I wish it was that simple for me. It’s not like I really have any other choice, though. Not really.”
His dark brows thread inward as he takes two steps and closes the distance between us. “We still talking about the band, or am I missing something?”
“Do not play dumb with me, Gavin Garrison. We’re past that and you know it.” I lean back against the brick building and watch him process what I’ve said through my haze of hurt and anger.
“This is why I didn’t want to do what we did.” He pauses to point an accusatory finger at me. “This right here. You’re pissed, and for reasons I’m not entirely sure of. Which only seems to be pissing you off more.”
The lump of tears to come in my throat swells, constricting my airway. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob narrowly escapes my throat. Either that came from me or a wounded animal is nearby.
I didn’t want to do what we did repeats a thousand times in my mind.
It hurts, it hurts so bad it takes all my strength to remain upright. A shard of glass carving out my heart would feel better. Would be a welcome relief. My breath comes in gasps.
“Sorry I forced you to do something you didn’t want to do,” I spit out at him. My hands shoot forward, my palms striking him against his broad chest. “I fucking hate that shirt.”
He grabs my wrists with one hand and wrenches them into the tight space between our bodies while bracing his other one beside my head. I’m a willing hostage between brick and Gavin’s solid body.
“You didn’t force me to do shit.” His breath tickles the side of my face. “And don’t hate on the shirt. Especially now that you know it’s telling the truth.”
My pulse races at the reminder, not that I could’ve possibly forgotten. The memory of last night has played on repeat behind my eyes nearly every second since.
Shoving myself against him in a weak attempt at pushing him away, I try my best not to inhale his intoxicating scent. Masculine soap, a faint hint of tobacco, and undertones from the cologne I bought him for his birthday.
“You’re an asshole.”
“True, but completely beside the point at the moment. How about you tell me what’s really got you so upset and we go from there?”
My chest rises and falls between us, barely grazing his as I pull in much-needed breaths.
“I-I don’t even know how to explain it exactly.”
“Try.” The force of the command in his voice is only half as harsh as the punishing glare in his gaze.
“Okay.” I recall what Mandy said about band members not needing to fight in front of the influential audience members inside. I don’t want to lie to him, but the last thing I need is Gavin defending my worth to Dallas or arguing publicly with Mandy. Settling on a lie of omission, I pause to lick my lips and lift my chin. “I overheard someone saying the band would be better off if I wasn’t a part of it. Not just anyone, either. Someone who would know—someone who matters.”
“Dixie. Listen to me.” He leans closer and I feel the anger from where I stand. “Whoever said that is a fucking moron. You are what makes this band. You are why people stop drinking or texting or whatever the hell it is they’re doing and pay attention. Don’t ever let me hear you say that we would be better off without you again. Understood?”
I hear myself let out a breathless sound and then a whimpered, “Okay,” while still locked in his stare.
“Do not make those noises. Unless you want our second time to be in this alley.”
We’re so close that his lips brush mine as he speaks and I can’t help but smile against them. “Technically it would be our fourth time. Our second time was in the shower. The third time was in that chair by the window. Try and keep up.”
His hands fall to my backside and his fingers press into my flesh. I’m not sure if I rock my hips forward or he does, but the part of me that’s throbbing with need brushes against his obvious arousal.