My eyes widen, and I reach out, spreading my palms on the metal counter. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m not—”
But the bartender scurries off to fill the order, ignoring my protests. I cover the stamp on the back of my right hand, unease tightening around my sternum.
“This seat taken?” Aiden asks, slipping onto the stool on the opposite side of where the pervert was.
We sit in silence a few moments, and finally the bartender returns. She slides our drinks across, scoops up the remnants of the buzzer, and then slinks down to the other end to assess more customers.
“I was here for an hour without anyone even asking me what I wanted to drink,” I say finally, reaching for my glass. Wrapping my fingers around it, I let the surface cool my heated palms, and take a tentative sip.
“You mean that asshole felt you up, but didn’t offer a beverage first?”
“Well, you know what they say.” I shrug, turning my head to look at him. It’s a little alarming how easy I find it to talk to him, all things considered. “Chivalry is dead, and all.”
He grunts, bringing his tumbler to his lips with a smirk. “That it is.”
After a beat, he drops his arm, returning his glass to the counter.
“What’s your name, angel?”
I sputter, choking on the alcohol as it works down my esophagus. Both at his question, and the fuzzy feeling I get in my center when he calls me angel.
Fuck, how I could ruin this man.
If he were anyone else, I might even try—but the sixteen-year-old buried deep inside me is begging me not to.
She still clings to the hope that one day, we’ll be whole again. That the stains on our soul might disappear if enough time passes.
But I know better; the darkness in us is a quicksand, seeking out others to devour.
So, I decide not to tell him my name, rock star or not.
I spin on my stool and down my drink, buying time. Try to play quirky and aloof, even though everything inside me is spinning out of control for a million different reasons.
“I can’t tell you all my secrets. Where’s the fun in that?”
His smirk grows as he takes another drink, and so does the fire in my belly. Goddamn, I should say thank you and go find my friends. Leave what is sure to be a disaster here at the bar.
Dragging the rim of his glass along his bottom lip, his eyes darken on me. They grow heavy. Hungry. I shift, uncrossing and crossing my legs, trying to alleviate the pressure between them.
“The fun,” Aiden says, letting his gaze drop to my mouth, then lower and back up, “is that I know what to call you when I collect my dues.”
My eyebrows scrunch together, and his jump.
“You weren’t for sale to him, angel, because I already paid for you.”
4
The laugh that tumbles past the girl’s lips makes my cock twitch attentively. In part because it’s an inherently melodic sound, soft and lilted, but more so because she seems surprised by it.
Like laughter isn’t something she’s used to.
Her crystalline blue eyes widen a fraction, and she covers her mouth with a dainty hand.
“Sorry,” she says around her fingers. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“Would you rather I ease you into the idea?” I lift a shoulder, holding the tumbler to my mouth.
I don’t know why I ordered a drink—it’s been months since I tasted a drop of alcohol, and yet I’ve had hard liquor twice tonight.
My mother’s disappointment is almost palpable, but when I glance around the room, she’s nowhere to be seen, so I ignore the discomfort and take another drink instead.
Besides, drinking was never a problem for me. Not like pills were for her.
It was always just something I did in an attempt to make the emptiness inside me a little less glaring.
The girl beside me clears her throat, gripping the edge of the bar in one hand. Her fingers strain against the metal top, as if that connection is the only thing keeping her upright.
“I’m not, uh…” she trails off, licking her lips once. Twice. Three times. I feel each swipe of her tongue in my balls, and goddamn if I don’t want to ravage her right here.
Lay claim to her where everyone would see, and inevitably inform the rest of the world that this stranger is off-limits.
With how much you can get for an Aiden James story, and how fast celebrity gossip travels, everyone would know before she even left the building tonight.
I blink, clearing the fog of desire from my brain. Jesus. Get a fucking grip.
Sucking in a deep breath, I set my glass down and push it away, trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart. I shouldn’t indulge. Shouldn’t let arousal take root in my gut, or let my cock do the thinking.
But there’s just something about this girl.
She smells like warm peppermint, and those wide blue eyes say more than her pretty pink lips ever could.
This isn’t like me, and it’s definitely not like her—I can tell she’s not enjoying the gala by the way she’s curled into herself, face pinched as if just waiting for it all to be over.
“I’m not a hooker,” she rushes out finally, the words escaping like a gust of wind. She spins slightly on the stool, making eye contact with my chin. “I know my dress maybe doesn’t scream innocent patron, but to be fair, I didn’t pick it out.”
My eyebrows rise. “Not your style?”
“No.” Her throat ripples as she swallows, and I find myself fascinated by the movement.
I’m still gazing at the creamy expanse of skin when I ask, “What would you have rather worn?”
Please say nothing.
She shrugs, shifting so her hair veils the slope of her neck. “I wouldn’t have come at all.”
Leaning back in my chair, I scrub at the light stubble lining my jaw. All around us, gala patrons flit about, engaging in conversation, purchasing drinks and auction items. Going about their evenings, unperturbed by the way ours has stalled.
I have a schedule to keep. A full five hours of sleep to catch before hitting the gym with Liam, then vocal exercises and a briefing of tonight’s show before we hit the road. People depend on the schedule, need me to keep it so they can continue on with their own lives.
Normally, I’m fine with the rigidity of it. Keeps my mind from wandering and puts a degree of order to what is otherwise chaos.
Right now, though, I have no desire to return to the land of the living. I’m frozen in my seat, in time, entranced by this complete stranger for no reason.
And that is all the more reason to stay.
Not to mention the ungodly amount of money I dropped on her ticket.
“What would you rather be doing?” I ask after the silence has stretched too far between us. “If not attending a charity ball with New York’s elite.”
Her shoulders relax the slightest bit. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.”
“You’re a tourist?”
She nods.
“Ah, a Big Apple virgin.” I chuckle at the blush that creeps up her neck, enhanced by the low fluorescent bar lighting. “So, what brings you to the city?”
“Class trip.”
I lean against the counter, waiting for her to elaborate. A lone worry niggles the back of my mind, and I squint at her, trying to gauge her age. “Class? Where do you go to school?”