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I shove her in and say, “I thought your goal was to not look like a fool?”
She shrugs. “Your fans were interested. And since I know…” Her words trail off and her eyes close. “You know what I want.” She leans over and whispers in my ear, the smell of tequila lingering on her breath. She’ll hate life tomorrow.
I chuckle as she tries to focus her eyes on my face. “I have no idea. But if it’s more alcohol, I’m going to say no.”
She shakes her head slowly. “Nope. That’s not what I want.” She touches my hand, and the buzz of desire immediately slams back as she drags her finger up my forearm. “I want…” she looks at me through hooded eyelids, licking her lips, “… you to tie me up.” Her eyes glow with eagerness as she straddles me, her skirt bunching up around her waist.
My muscles tense under her body. Closing my eyes, I search for the restraint I’ve always had with her. I slowly open them. “Sydney,” I grate out in warning. She fucking giggles.
“Yesss?” she purrs. Her fingers slide down my tie, stopping at my belt. She lifts her hips to run her hand in between us, over the swell of my cock. She lets out an approving hum. “You want me, Max.”
There’s a fine line between want and need. I’m in the gray area where they both intersect. The area is blurred which blinds me to my emotions. I never know which direction I should be going. Only, I can’t let go.
I grab both her hands, pinning them behind her back. She pushes out her breasts, tempting me. Her blue eyes flash with fire and ice. My restraint slips as I growl, “Get on your knees.” I release her hands and she slides off me, sitting on her knees on the limo floor in front of me. Waiting to be told what to do.
I could easily whip out my dick and have those red lips wrap around me, milking me.
I could easily do everything I’ve been fantasizing about tonight.
I swallow, looking out the moon roof.
Fuck! That’s the problem. It’s too easy.
She’s drunk and I’m clearly thinking with the wrong head.
I roll down the privacy window and instruct the driver to pull over. Rolling the window back up, Sydney peers up at me with a questioning expression. I lift her back up to her seat, reach over to grab the seatbelt and stretch it across her body.
“Max, what are you doing?”
The car stops and I kiss her on the forehead before hopping out on the dim empty street. The driver rolls the front window down and I instruct him to take her to the hotel. I pace the street, hands behind my tense neck. Goddamnit, Sydney. Why did you do that? Pulling out my phone, I shoot off a text to Stone. He’ll intercept her and make sure she makes it up to her room. We’re only three blocks away from the hotel so I’m not concerned about her safety. My sanity is my top priority right now.
My feet pound the pavement as I walk in the direction of the hotel. Live rock music blares out of a dive bar as I pass it and I try to talk myself out of turning around and drowning my frustrations with liquor. I would never do that on a job.
Sydney’s a job.
My fingers tighten into fists as I stare at the hotel, glowing against the dark sky, my mind stuck on ice-blue eyes. Fuck that, I can’t go back to the hotel. Spinning in place, I take two long strides toward the open door. The bouncer looks me over, recognition flashes in his eyes. With a tip of his head, he motions for me to head inside without asking for my ID. Before, when someone recognized me, it was because they knew about my team. Now, I don’t have a fucking clue. I’m not sure putting myself in the spotlight was a good idea.
Sliding onto an empty barstool, I pull out a hundred-dollar bill, pushing it toward the bartender. “Johnny Walker, neat. Keep ‘em coming.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket so I pull it out.
Stone: In bed and passed out
Good. I hope like hell she doesn’t remember tonight. Shit will get awkward. My phone vibrates again.
Stone: You good?
Me: Never better
Stone: Fucking liar
I chuckle, bringing the glass to my lips. When the golden liquid wets my mouth, I can’t stop from downing the entire drink. I slam the glass down, sliding it to the bartender. He nods, fills it again and slides it back. I spin the barstool, sitting back while I watch the band on the tiny stage. The small-framed brunette swings her hips and belts out a song. See, she’s short and I’m not at all attracted to her. I sigh as her voice screeches through the air. I don’t know if I’m more irritated that her voice is annoying as fuck, or if it’s because it’s not Sydney’s. The past few weeks, my addiction to her has grown to an unhealthy level. And hiding it from her is becoming harder each day we’re together.
Her stalker has nothing on me.
The only difference between the two of us… I’d never physically hurt her.
But I would kill for her.
