Her head hurt, and so did her heart. She felt battered. He had just dismissed her pain and fears over the women as if they were nothing. To him, they weren’t important. To her, that issue was everything. There was no way for her to get past it if he refused to even acknowledge she had a right to feel the way she did. She rocked herself back and forth, making herself small, trying to think of what to do, but her headache was very painful, making it difficult.
The band members came in just as Savage straightened. “I’m getting her something cold to drink. Don’t discuss her joining yet. No commitments. I’ll be back.”
Maestro sighed as he watched Savage walk away. “Seriously, woman? How did he get to you first?”
“He doesn’t exactly own me,” Seychelle denied, but she wasn’t certain of anything right then. She was more confused about her feelings than ever.
Going to the bar had been the biggest mistake of her life. She really couldn’t live without Savage. She couldn’t eat. Or sleep. Or even breathe properly. But seeing the women and feeling the way they were lusting after him, their eyes following him, bright with almost fanatical carnal greed, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to cope with him going off with other women the way he had. She had convinced herself she could do it. Savage was so casual about it. How did one get past it? Especially if she knew it would happen again and again?
“I’m not even with him, exactly,” she said. Uncertain. Wanting to cry. Feeling sick inside and confused outside.
“She is. With me, I mean,” Savage corrected, walking in so confidently. He handed her two white tablets. “For your headache.” He took the bottle from her and unscrewed the cap. “Drink. And we’re more than friends, and that’s all the time.”
Her heart jerked hard in her chest at his declaration. He wasn’t going to let her go back on her word so easily. Still, she tried to play it casual, rolling her eyes. “He’s being difficult. He likes to mess with everyone.”
“Maestro, I know you want her to sing with you.” Savage caught her hand and brought it to his thigh, his thumb sliding back and forth over the back of it. “Give us a little time. We’ll go home and talk it over.”
When he did that, pressed her hand tight against the muscle of his thigh and rubbed his thumb like he was stroking little caresses, she went damp. Her breasts instantly ached. She wanted him with every breath she took.
Seychelle just needed to run. Self-preservation was kicking in. “I’ve got to go home. Thanks for letting me sing with you tonight. You’re the best musicians I’ve heard in years, maybe ever.”
“Back at you, babe,” Master said. “I haven’t heard a voice like yours ever. Say yes.”
The others murmured their agreement and walked out, leaving her alone with Savage.
Savage brought her hand to his mouth. He nibbled at the pads of her fingers and then scraped with his teeth. Her heart nearly stopped. Her sex clenched hard. He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm.
She tugged until Savage released her. Standing was difficult because he didn’t back away. Her body was up against his, so tight she could feel every breath he took.
“Can you drive safely?”
She nodded, although she was shaking so much she wasn’t positive, but she had to get out of there before she lost every single thing she’d fought so hard for. Her pride. Her independence.
“I’ll walk you out to your car.”
She was so weak with relief that he was letting her go that her legs nearly gave out. At the same time, she wanted to weep that he didn’t care for her the way she did for him.
“Thank you.” There was nothing else to say. She couldn’t take it if he left her time and again for other women, and he would. She couldn’t sing in the bar knowing those women had a part of him that really should belong to her. How could he so casually declare they were past that? She wasn’t past it. She would never be past it.
She kept her head down as he went to the back door and opened it, showing her the exit from the meeting room at the end of the hall. It was dark outside. The band was playing again, and most everyone who had been smoking cigarettes or weed was drifting back inside.
Savage didn’t say anything as they walked to the car, but he kept his arm around her shoulders. In some way that arm was comforting; in another, it felt like a heavy chain binding them together. She knew she was slightly hysterical, but she was going home and packing up and driving to another state as fast as she could. Nevada was looking very good to her. First, she was heading into Fort Bragg and buying a pack of cigarettes.