Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she tugged his hoodie closed over her chest. He expected her to initiate the booty call the next time she got horny? “You have my number too,” she pointed out.
He flicked the end of her nose. “The major problem there is you quit answering.”
Maybe I will now. Oh yes, I will. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
He chuckled. The tip of his finger caught her under her chin, and it was enough to still all her movements. “Tell you what. If you need help with that, if you need someone to shut you up, or even if you just need to walk on the wild side every now and then…I’m your guy. I’ll show you the ropes, killjoy.” The way he winked at her made her think he meant that idiom way more literally than most people. “I don’t know what kind of identity crisis you’re having, but I think you’re all right.”
You’re all right. It didn’t sound like much, but for some reason it meant a lot coming from him. It made her want to kiss him again—and again and again—but that time seemed to have passed.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Just one thing, though…”
“Yeah?”
“Can I call you Seth?”
A grin broke over his face. “I think I can live with that.” And then a fist battered against the window.
Chapter Four
“Oh my God. Were you getting it on?” Candace’s eyes were big as saucers as Seth pushed the door open.
“Well, not anymore, thank you. Jesus, what kind of friend are you?”
Macy shoved her face into his shoulder, trying in vain to squelch laughter she didn’t understand given the awkwardness of their situation. At least they’d stopped when they did. Except…dammit! She’d never put her panties back on. At least his hoodie was big enough to hide anything that might still be on display.
“Is it safe?” Brian asked from an area near the back of the car.
“Yes, they’re clothed, at least.”
He appeared next to his girlfriend. “Hey, man, we’re ready to jet. But Candace’s car has a dead battery. Do you have cables?”
“Do I have cables. You know what’s pathetic? That you don’t have cables. Have I not taught you anything?”
Macy didn’t miss Candace’s little grin as she extricated herself from the car so Seth could get out. Immediately, she staggered on her weak knees, which she knew had very little to do with the beer she’d imbibed and everything to do with what he’d just done to her. Seth reached out to steady her, his knowing gaze holding hers for a moment longer than necessary. Cold air tickled the bare heat between her legs, and she shuddered.
“You straight?” he asked. She nodded, suddenly feeling shy under the scrutiny of their friends. As she was about to glance away, she noticed the white writing on his black T-shirt, visible now that he wasn’t wearing his hoodie. It read Why can’t you all die and leave me alone?
Macy frowned. Jesus. Couldn’t take him anywhere. But then, public appearances probably wouldn’t be part of this deal, anyway.
Any relationship between them would be founded on nothing but sex. Raw, hotter-than-hell sex. It was all they had, really—this blazing chemistry that turned all her once coherent thoughts into grainy mush.
Was there anything really wrong with that, though? All her life she’d prepared herself for The One, and subsequently examined each potential relationship only for its capacity to become something enduring. It didn’t have to be that way. Seth was a guy she wouldn’t want to be with long-term, and it was probably a good thing because he didn’t strike her as the relationship type anyway. But damn, he made her hormones growl.
Even now, her gaze clung to him. Maybe that had always been the case, but it was ten times worse at the moment. She was fidgety, empty, unsatisfied. Still aching, still trembling deep inside. She should’ve asked him what time he would get off, and if she could get him off soon after.
He and Brian set about their task of jumping Candace’s car, and Macy found herself laughing with the other girls at their banter, especially when Ghost made the crack about Brian and Candace being so into each other even their vehicles were copulating. They had her car up and running in no time. Then Brian and Candace spent a good five minutes saying their overly affectionate farewells, even though they were only parting for the few minutes it would take to drive back to their apartment in separate vehicles.
Damn. All her friends were going to go home and get laid. Macy was in for yet another long, lonely night if she didn’t do something. Seth had already grown exasperated with his friends’ exuberance and headed back to his car, but not before prying them apart long enough to make sure Candace was driving Macy home. Since Candace rarely drank more than a swallow or two, they’d dropped Macy’s car off at her apartment and ridden together, but it touched her that he would look out for her. She took a deep, fortifying breath and followed him.
He glanced back at her as he popped open the driver’s side door. Without hesitating, she walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. Seriously?
“For making me feel a whole lot better.”
His mouth found her ear, sending a chill skittering down her spine when he flicked the lobe with his tongue. When he spoke, the warmth of his breath only intensified the sensation. “How ’bout I call you later tonight?”
Giddiness erupting inside her, she nodded into his shoulder, then stepped back and realized she was still wearing his hoodie. “Oh, here.” As her hand came up to take it off, he caught it with his own.
“Looks better on you. Stay warm.” So what if it had a big white skull with flaming eyes on the back and her fingers didn’t reach the end of the sleeves? It smelled like him, and that was so good she might just sleep in the damn thing from now on. With one final dazzling grin, he dropped into the driver’s seat. She’d begun to shuffle over to her friends when his voice called her back.
“Hey, Mace.”
Desperately trying to hide her own smile, she glanced back.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Damn.
Considering he was Ghost’s best friend, Brian Ross sure was a sadistic bastard. He’d apparently been in on this ploy to throw Ghost and Macy together for a little Valentine’s rendezvous, but he’d still agreed to let Ghost unknowingly give himself a galloping case of blue balls by letting him work the rest of the night.
Or maybe that had been his ploy all along, since Ghost sometimes got the impression Brian didn’t really like Macy.
Yeah, he was a sneaky one.
Dermamania, Brian’s business and Ghost’s beloved place of work, had been trashed to hell and back in the midst of Brian and Candace’s tumultuous genesis as a couple, and it had broken everyone’s hearts. But at the moment, Ghost would have burned the place to the ground and roasted marshmallows over the open flames if it meant he could get out of there any sooner. It was no easy feat to sit on a stool and concentrate on precision when he had a raging hard-on that refused to subside because he couldn’t get the memory of Macy’s gorgeous tits out of his head or the sounds she made when she came. He was practically in pain.
Which was why, at nearly one a.m., when they generally tried to close, he wanted to cheerfully maim the trio that walked in the door and asked if they had time to get some needlework done.
NO, you assholes! I have a five-alarm situation here!
But all the other artists looked at him, deferring to him as usual in Brian’s absence. That, at least, hadn’t changed since he’d been gone. And they all knew Brian usually wasn’t about turning away walk-ins if it was a small job and they were available. So Ghost wasn’t about it, either—even if he had to grit his teeth as he told their clients, “Sure, no problem, come on in.”
So the others wouldn’t see the outright devastation on his face, he ambled over to his station to set up, trying to refrain from sighing heavily. Or throwing a cuss fit. He tapped out a quick text to Macy, letting h
er know he was held up. And then, because fate was a bitch, he got stuck with the client who was female and pretty and petite and must’ve worn the same damn perfume as Macy…or maybe her scent was just ingrained in his head forever. It wasn’t that he deliberately tried to make comparisons, but Macy had lit a fire in his blood and it roared on unchecked. Right now he saw her everywhere he looked, and he would until he was inside her again.
Macy didn’t text back. Which, in her condition, wasn’t good.
His client perched on his table and looked up at him with big blue eyes. She’d picked out two little cherries as the design she wanted, which he could bang out in ten minutes. Maybe fate was smiling upon him at last.
“Where do you want it?” he asked her and groaned inwardly as she whipped her shirt off to reveal a black bra that thankfully covered everything except her upper swells. But that was the spot she indicated with an almost seductive slide of her finger.
“Here, please.”
This was just what he needed. He inhaled, trying to clear the fogs of lust from his brain, and concentrated on Winds of Plague blaring over the sound system. “Drop the Match,” indeed. Macy had better not pass out before he could get to her; he had a lot of frustration to work out.
Five minutes into the design, Starla made the announcement they all dreaded to hear. “Oh, hell. Psycho ex incoming.”
It was met with the usual panicked chorus of “Whose?”—they all had them, unfortunately—but Ghost had a familiar sinking feeling in his gut without even looking up. His own psycho ex was like a bloodhound. He’d been back in town for six hours, and she’d already sniffed him out. He knew it.
The door dinged as it opened. Starla cheerfully called out, “Hi, Raina!”
Damn, damn, triple damn. He still didn’t look up, even as Raina struck up a brief conversation with Starla as if the two had ever liked each other. Starla, bless her, was trying to run interference for him, but she wasn’t having any luck. Raina made a beeline for him.
“Hey, you. When did you get back?”
That throaty voice, purring into the mic at their gigs, purring into his ear, had once driven him wild. Now it was like nails down a chalkboard. Finally, he threw her a glance. Tiny, ferocious and—he couldn’t deny it—completely fucking crazy from her multicolored dreads to her heavy black boots, she wasn’t someone he’d wanted to welcome him home tonight. Shit. “Today.”
“Brian said it was your grandma. How is she?”
Brian had even talked to her? Ghost channeled every bit of focus on the line he was drawing. His client was watching this exchange with amused interest. “Hanging in there.”
“That’s good. She’s a sweet lady. Tell her I said hi.”
She won’t even remember who the fuck you are. She barely remembers who the fuck I am. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Do you have time to do something for me after you’re finished?”
Seriously? “Something as in…”
“Well. I thought I might get you to cover this up.” She let her coat slip off her shoulders and lifted the hem of her lacy black shirt, revealing her milky skin and turning so he could see the lock tattoo on her lower back. He’d given it to her. And the matching key was still in a similar area on his own back.
He couldn’t resist a chuckle as he went back to drawing. Yeah. Completely fucking nuts. “Do you think that’s good practice? Is there some reason why I have to be the one to do it?”
“Well, you did it in the first place.”
“Yeah, so?”
“And I kind of want it gone.”
“Then go have it lasered. If I cover it up, it’s just going to be something else I did. Right?”
She scoffed and let her shirt fall, shrugging her coat back on. “Well, I’d just rather get it covered, and you’re the best.”
“Brian could do it if you come back another night.”
“Brian hates me.”
And I don’t? Luckily, he refrained from saying it. There might have been a meltdown of nuclear proportions if he’d let it slip, and he tried to keep his drama out of here. Besides, he didn’t hate the girl. He was too indifferent, really, to hate her. He just hated to see her.
“Raina, the fact remains that I’m busy at the moment, as you can see. And we’re shutting down in a few. It’s been a long day for me. If you want to come back some other time and talk about it, that would be awesome.”
“Did you change your number? I’ve really wanted to talk to you. And since it was Valentine’s, I was hoping—”
“I did change it. A while back.”
“Avoiding me?”
He completely stopped what he was doing and turned on the stool to face her, pouring all the warning he could into his eyes and his tone. “Raina.”
She huffed and gave an annoyed little toss of her head. “Fine. I’ll leave. But we do need to talk. It’s about the band. I asked Mark about coming out to Austin and singing with you guys again. He was all for it.”
“Why? I thought you were done with that.”
“I’ve just been feeling the itch, you know. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a problem with it.”
“Are you fuckin’—” He broke off and sighed. “I’m not getting into it here, but I think that’s a really, really bad idea, and you know it is too.”
She sniffed and fell silent for a long, long time. Uncomfortably long. Finally, she said. “See ya,” and flounced toward the door. He turned back to his client with an apology. God. It wasn’t as if that was embarrassing as hell or anything. And two minutes after Raina left, he was getting outraged texts from Brian, whom Starla apparently had alerted in case there was trouble. Great. Interrupting the boss and his girlfriend on Valentine’s night with this stupid bullshit. Now he’d have damage control there too.
And then there was Macy who, if she hadn’t passed out yet, was waiting for him. Seeing Raina had been like dousing cold water on his hard-on.
Who the hell was he kidding? There was way too much piled on his plate, and with his nana finally going into the nursing home and the tension in the band due to his absence, the heap just kept getting higher. If he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t the greatest idea to add Macy to the top of it. She didn’t deserve to be yet another thing he’d cast aside or neglect altogether.
That didn’t change the fact he couldn’t wait to see her.
Chapter Five
Macy flopped away from the annoying sound blaring in her ear. She was about to contemplate unconsciousness again when her body suddenly acted on its own behalf before her brain could catch up. Her hand shot out for the iPhone—which her face had apparently been pressed against—and it took more than one attempt to slide the stupid freaking button all the way across to answer. The garbled word that came out of her mouth sounded something like, “Hulluh.”
“You passed out, didn’t you?” a deep voice accused teasingly. A voice she’d been hearing in all the torturous sex dreams she’d been having since, yes, passing out.
“No.”
He laughed. Dark and rich, it made her rub her thighs together. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost two a.m. “Are you off?” she asked.
“Finally. I texted you earlier but I doubt you got it. How are you feeling?”
She did a quick assessment. Head throbbing, check. Stomach not quite right, check. Truthfully, she felt like crap. Somehow still horny crap, but crap all the same. And definitely not sexy crap that was anywhere near ready for a man to come over and make passionate love to her. “Um…I’m…”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. I had kind of a bad night myself. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”
“There’s always tomorrow. Or tonight, since it already is tomorrow.”
“I wanted to see you,” she confessed. “Where are you?”
“Driving home, now. But I want you to stay on the phone with me, okay?”
She rolled over on her back and got
as comfortable as she could, smiling at nothing in particular. “Okay. What about your night? You said it was bad?”
“Torturous.”
“Really? Why?”
“Just was.”
“Tell me.”
“Because I was so hard from what we did in the backseat that I couldn’t even think about anything else. I’m hard right now, just hearing your voice, so sleepy and sweet.”
The words shocked her eyes wide open, and all at once she was more awake than she’d ever been in her life. Would she ever get used to him? “Oh,” she breathed.
His voice dropped even lower. “Where are you right now?”
“Lying on my couch.”
“Hmm. I’d like for you to get up and go get on your bed. Will you do that for me?”
At the moment, she’d do anything for him. But she knew where this was going. Her heart began to thud double-time. “I’ve never done the whole phone-sex thing before.” Nevertheless, she got up and shuffled toward her room, yelping as she sustained a bruised shin in the process.
“Well, good.” Somehow that last word was full of wicked promise.
“I mean, I might not be very good at…talking. Like that.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll say it all. Believe me, right now just hearing you breathe will get me off. Leave your room dark.”
Breathing she could handle; she was already doing way more of it than she needed for survival. Ignoring the lamps, she crawled onto her bed. He must’ve heard the covers rustle when she pulled them back.
“Take off the covers. I don’t want there to be anything on the bed except you, right in the middle.”
Heat flared through her. “Can I keep a pillow?”
“Just one.”
The rational daytime Macy might’ve said this was a little absurd. The still half-tipsy, aroused, middle-of-the-night Macy couldn’t strip the bedding fast enough. “Are you home yet?” she asked him as she worked.