Page 8 of The Comedown

Or not.

Probably not. Kids are the worst.

I don’t know that for sure, but I think it’s safe to assume. They don’t seem like very much fun at all.

“And here I thought our first meeting was as bad as it could get,” she sneers, throwing me for a fucking loop.

First meeting?

When did we—

“I always did have a knack for epic departures.” Her lips and cheeks move like her tongue’s licking her teeth, but she doesn’t say anything more.

First, talk of a parting gift, and now, she’s saying this is a departure? Goddamn it.

What did I do?

That motherfucker embarrassment peeks its thick head out, catching me by the balls for the second time tonight.

If I admit I don’t remember meeting her, it’ll only make the embarrassment spread, taking hold and possibly dragging me back to the pits of hell my mind really is and I ain’t about to risk that. Not even for The Collette.

Anger I don’t even have to call on comes back to me in a snap. Anger so strong my lips form into a grin as I stare Collette down.

“I got word you were trying to back out,” I lie, stepping into her space. “And thought I’d come deliver the good news myself.” When she doesn’t retreat one single bit, all the blood left in my body rushes straight to my cock, my tight-ass jeans thankfully keeping it from reaching full mast. “You’re locked in. You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” And that part’s no lie. We signed contracts for this tour, so if she does try to get out of it…

I don’t want her to get out of it. Soon as I’m off this bus, I’m calling my legal team to make sure she can’t. I’ll go for broke. I don’t give a fuck.

Collette stares back at me, the frown on her face doing nothing to change how beautiful she is.

“Good news? I thought you’d be happy to see this has-been off.” She doesn’t use those self-righteous finger quotes, but only because she’s still got the knife in her grip as her other hand starts fingering the blade.

Did I really call her that? A has-been? This shit’s worse than I thought.

She must’ve started it. Her and that sharp tongue and even sharper knife. That’s the only explanation.

“What can I say? I’m a charitable guy like that.” I give her one of my crowd-pleasing smiles that only makes her frown harder.

Fuck her. I do charity.

Once.

Collette shifts from one foot to the other, like she’s bored with me already, and I consider laughing just to piss her off even more. That or throw her over my shoulder and show her just how not-boring I can be.

Would she let me though? Would she even let me touch her?

My hands by my sides tremble with the urge to do just that, but the weapon in hers keeps me from following through.

Eh. I’d still chance it. For Collette, I’d chance a hell of a lot more than a tangle with a knife.

I let my eyes fall down the rest of her body, coming to a full stop on her stomach—her exposed stomach. She’s in a red crop top and baggy sleep shorts that dip way down, revealing a fuckton of that toned stomach I already knew she had. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier. Fuck that. I know I haven’t. Not even that one music video she did on a motorcycle in the desert.

Actually no, it’s a toss-up. That video gave me jerk-off material for weeks.

“You think you have something to teach me?” she asks, bringing me back to the moment, and a grin automatically splits my face. Why yes, I do. “You think I’d want anything from you?”

“Who fucking doesn’t?” I scoff, then eye her for a full minute, wondering how the fuck nothing on her moves in a reaction to that. Even though I said it as a joke, it’s true, and I thought she’d be able to relate. At least enough to fucking thaw a bit, damn.

Why isn’t she reacting?