Bittersweet Symphony (The Damaged Souls series Book 2) (18 page)

I usually squashed the gloating thoughts that came whenever he drew attention from the opposite sex. I’d been raised not to brag and boast, that just because I had something someone else wanted, didn’t mean I had to lift myself up in pride.

But damn it, he was mine. That man who everyone was leaning forward to hear sing—anticipation lighting up their faces—I’d be going home with him.

As he found me in the crowd, locking gazes, there was no need to ever worry he’d stray. Cooper only had eyes for me.

“Oh, your boyfriend’s a rockstar, Caylee!” Brooklyn teased. When Cooper had left to join Cian, she’d scooted over with Six beside her.

“Almost as cool as an exotic dancer for a boyfriend, huh?” I replied, wetting my lips. Sooner or later I was going to need something to drink, but there was no way I was going to miss this. I stared back at Cooper, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, waiting.

“We should form a club or something,” she whispered, and I nodded, opening my mouth to reply that we should—that it would be fun to get together, drink wine, and exchange stories about our lives.

The guys on stage stopped that. The crowd was sufficiently warmed up and impatient for them to sing. I was, too.

“Only way to know is to do it.” He smiled, answering Cian’s question. “Ready?”

“Hell yeah!” Cian thundered, signaling the band to start playing. “This one goes out to all the ladies.”

I screamed. I couldn’t help it. The song choice . . . it had to have been Cooper who suggested it because it was one of my favorites. Just the other day, I’d sung it for him, giving him an impromptu show as I danced around him. His response was to take the title literally, whisking me off to his bedroom where time stood still.

It always stood still when we were alone and intimate.

As Cian began
Lay Me Down by Sam Smith
, I closed my eyes, letting the melody brush over me, enveloping me with the seductive words. It wasn’t until Cooper took over that I opened them again.

He was staring at me. As far as he was concerned, I was the only one in the room and this was his plea—that all he wanted was to lay by my side forever—that he didn’t want to be where I wasn’t.

The crowd faded away.

Tears filled my eyes. Big, fat, happy ones.

Goosebumps rippled across my skin.

He was creating magic. Hell, he
was
magic.

“Damn, Caylee,” Brooklyn uttered, just as transfixed as I was. “He’s incredible.”

“I know.”

And he was mine.

Chapter Nineteen

Cooper

She was a mess—a very drunk, affectionate mess.

From the second we’d entered the elevator, Caylee had been like a livewire in my arms. After pressing every single button, but the one for our floor, she’d laughed each time we hit a new level—the compartment coming to a stop before carrying on. At this rate, we’d be stuck riding the casino’s elevator for the next few hours—much to her exasperation.

“Oooh, this is my favorite song . . . ev-er!” Caylee drawled, her words slurred by the insane amount of tequila she’d drunk at the after party. “And who the hell pressed all the buttons?” Usually, she was much more reserved—watching how much alcohol she consumed—but tonight’s theme overruled any pre-conceived notion of being responsible. Caylee had thrown caution to the wind and, between her, Brooklyn, and Rebecca, I’m surprised there was anything left on the bar’s shelf.

I liked to think it was a sign of how much Caylee truly trusted me—that she could let go knowing I would take care of her. It struck hard at my sense of pride. She had no qualms and complete faith.

It felt good.

The song currently playing over the elevator’s speakers was one I’d heard on the radio . . . a popular tune that had taken the world by storm. It was impossible to go through your day without hearing it somewhere. Judging from the way Caylee slowly swayed back and forth, mouthing the lyrics, she hadn’t escaped it either.

“Ugh.” Discomfort filled her features as she placed her hand over her stomach. “I don’t feel so good, Cooper. Make me feel better. Work your magic.” Grabbing my hand, Caylee kissed each of my fingers, a seductive smile spreading across her face, replacing the momentary distress from seconds earlier. “Fingers. Did you know you have magical fingers, Co-ooop-er?” She was adorable when she was intoxicated.

“I’m glad you approve, sweetheart,” I answered, tightening my arm around her waist. I’d tried letting her stand when we’d first entered the small space, but when she’d almost crumpled to the ground, her knees giving way, it became apparent that it was up to me to keep her upright.

“I love it when you touch me. Have I ever told you that before? It doesn’t matter where . . . just that you do. See!” Caylee exclaimed loudly, giggling at how forceful it sounded. She shoved her arm up into my face and I brushed my thumb over her skin before lowering it back to her side. “Goose bumps. You give me big ol’ goose bumps and I love it. We should change your name to King He-Makes-Me-Quiver, because that’s what you do.” Caylee leaned in like we were joint conspirators and whispered in hushed tones, “Down there. You know. There.” She wiggled her eyebrows before relaxing into me with a heavy sigh. “Did I tell you how magic your fingers are?”

It was hard not to laugh. This was definitely a side of my girlfriend I hadn’t had a chance to experience yet. People said that drinking tequila was a sure fire way to end up naked. Not with Caylee, she became a chatterbox. Part of me wondered just how much of this she’d remember in the morning once she sobered up.

“You did.” Pressing on our floor button again, I was impatient to get her back to the privacy of our room. The sooner I could get her hydrated and tucked into bed, the quicker she could start feeling better. While she was flying high right now without a care in the world, the crash was coming and it would be brutal. “Not much longer.”

Headache. Nausea. A longing for death and the sweet mercy it brought.

All trademark consequences of a classic hangover.

Her’s would be a doozy.

“Cooper?” she murmured against my chest. “Tonight was fun.” Before I had a chance to reply, she continued, exhaling again dramatically, “I drank too much, but I don’t care. Sometimes it’s okay to just be silly.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” Only six more floors before we reached ours. Thank goodness no one had entered the elevator with us. Don’t ask me how it happened: what with the casino in full swing and busy, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “And you can be as silly as you want.”

“Really?” Her eyes were glazed over as she looked up.

“Absolutely. Life’s too short to be so serious all the time.” I saw the moment she understood my meaning. She knew where my thoughts had temporarily strayed. There was no need to beckon memories because they were never far from the surface. Sometimes I thought they were woven throughout my entire soul—each thread touching and forming a complicated tapestry.

Caylee nodded. “Want to know something else?”

My lips curled as I kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

“I learned something new tonight. Wanna see?”

In the state she was in, the possibilities were literally endless. “Sure . . .” I replied cautiously. “Or we can wait until we’re alone.”

She busted out laughing. “We’re alone now!” Pushing away from me so she could turn around, Caylee stumbled before regaining her balance. This should be interesting. “Two things first.” She held up three fingers. “One, no laughing. Pinky promise.” She wiggled her small digit. I didn’t argue. I hooked mine around hers and shook. “Two.” Her brows furrowed as I watched her concentrate. “Damn, I forgot!”

“I won’t laugh.”

“Close your eyes! That was it.” She smacked her hand over my eyes, her palm slightly damp. “Okay, you ready?”

The elevator dinged, followed by the doors slowly opening. Peeking through her fingers, I spied a middle-aged man holding an ice bucket in his hand. I guess that meant ours was busted.

I gently moved her hand away from my face. “Hold that thought, darling,” I counseled, eyes open again and my arm back around her waist. We were situated a little way down the long hall. The keycard was already in my hand.

“Good night?” the guy asked, humor shining in his features.

“The best!” Caylee slurred, giving him the biggest, brightest smile she could muster. “Vegas is awesome.”

“Enjoy your night,” I added, impatient to let the guy get back to his business. Caylee waved over her shoulder as I led her away. The doors finally sliding shut.

“He was nice.”

I nodded, practically lifting her off the floor as I made a beeline for our room. “How you feeling?”

“Fab-u-lous.” She used her fingers to count off each syllable. “Although, I don’t think my tummy is happy with me. That was a lot of tequila.” As if to emphasis that point, Caylee hiccupped and slapped her hand over her mouth as a burp erupted.

Swiping the card, I waited for the flash of green light before twisting the door handle and pushing it open. We’d made it. It was my turn to release a sigh of relief.

“You arrrrrrrrre—” Caylee started, sounding like a pirate who’d had more than their fair share of rum rations. “In for a treat, mister!” Poking my chest hard, her knees buckled, causing her to grab onto the front of my shirt. “Now that we’re alone.” She seemed pleased with herself and I chuckled, guiding her over to the bed where I hoped I could tuck her in and let her sleep the worst of it off. Leaving earlier to go to the show, I’d mentally started a list of the many ways I wanted to put the
sin
in Sin City with her, but those plans were definitely off the table now.

As amorous as she was acting, as much as I wanted to rattle the walls of the room with her screams for more, I wasn’t the asshole who fucked his girlfriend while the only thing keeping her upright were the fumes of a good night out. That might be the M-O of other guys—believing that sex was sex regardless—but it wasn’t mine.

“How about we get these clothes off you, sweetheart?” I didn’t even wait for her to reply. I reached for the hem of her shirt and caught a strong whiff of spilled alcohol. Yeah, it didn’t matter who you were, there came a point where, despite all your best efforts, the cup missed your mouth. In Caylee’s case, her shot had clanked hard against her teeth and dribbled down her chin before the liquid disappeared between her breasts.

She’d laughed until she’d announced she’d almost peed herself.

It was then that we said our goodbyes—everyone leaving the after party to make their way back to their respective rooms for the night.

And here we were . . . me trying to get her cleaned up and her trying to slap my hands away.

“No! I want to sed-uuuuuuce you, Cooper. You know . . . I have skills now.” And heaven help me, she gyrated her hips, sending a pulse of arousal straight to my groin. Maybe I was an ass after all because the sight of her made me want to let her.

I took a seat on the edge of the bed, intrigued to see what she meant. The responsible voice in my head cautioned me about getting distracted. Another part . . . a more convincing voice suggested I wait and see whether these new skills would help in getting her undressed.

Sure enough, in one quick, slightly awkward flare, Caylee removed her tank, twirling it around her head like a lasso before shooting it across the room to the large windows.

“Six gave me some tips.”

Oh, fuck.

Cupping her breasts in her hand, she was clumsy in how she squeezed them. When I went to stop her, Caylee growled, “He said it’s all about creating a fantasy.” Sliding her hand slowly down over her stomach, her gaze didn’t once leave mine. That was until she lost her balance and my hand darted out to catch her.

My gentleman-like efforts earned me another slap.

“You can’t touch me . . . yet.” Caylee fiddled with the back of her lacy bra. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was wearing one that clasped in the front. When she gave it an extra hard tug, almost hitting herself square in the face when her hand flew free, I threw caution to the wind and dragged her into my lap.

“But where’s the fun in that, beautiful?”

Caylee stroked her bare sides—her mouth opening and closing rapidly like she was trying to speak, but kept losing track of her thoughts.

I loved her. Holding her like this resurrected primal urges I didn’t even know were possible for someone so jaded. I wanted to protect her, keep her safe, remove every obstacle that ever stood in her path, and ensure that from here on out, all she ever did was smile, laugh, and know she was adored.

“How about we save this for tomorrow?” Cradling her face between my hands, I drew her close, and tilted her head so I could kiss her forehead.

She giggled and hiccupped loudly at the end. “Ummm, that’s not where I want your lips, Cooper Hensley,” Caylee sung in a drunken singsong voice. “Want to know where I want you to kiss me? Guess.”

But before I could answer and try to redirect the conversation, her eyes widened with alarm. Everything seemed to still before all hell broke loose. Caylee raced to the bathroom like her very life depended on it. The sounds of retching echoed in the tiled room.

I did what any devoted boyfriend would do.

I held her hair back and promised I wouldn’t leave.

****

“Shoot me now, please!” A soft whimper came out from beneath the covers, followed by an agonized groan. “Tequila should be called To-Kill-You. Never, ever, ever, again.”

“Morning.” I chuckled from the chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour. Waking earlier, I’d already been down to the casino floor and purchased coffee and breakfast. The beverage was cold now and something told me she wouldn’t be reaching for the muffin anytime soon. With her hair all messed in an epic case of bed head, she’d gradually eased the cover back, her face distorted in a painful grimace.

“Are you always this damn perky?” she grunted, her arm across her eyes now as she lay pathetically against her pillow.

“Only after an amazing night out on the town,” I teased. Crossing over to her, I gently sat by her side. “How much do you remember?”

“The better question is how much do I want to remember? And the answer to that is . . . it’s a little foggy and I’m guessing that’s a mercy right now.” She let out a shaky sigh. “Do me a favor, Cooper?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Name it.” I softly patted what I thought was her thigh.

“Tell the sun to take the day off. It’s like the second coming of Christ in here.” And with another loud, agonized groan, Caylee flipped her covers over her face.

“You sang karaoke last night,” I ventured, talking to the lump formerly known as my girlfriend. This brought back all kinds of memories—of Bryce and Marty trying to drag my ass out of bed after an all-night bender. While I wouldn’t resort to their dirty tricks of ripping the proverbial Band-Aid off and hauling my resentful butt off the mattress while threatening to dump me in the shower, I would be somewhat gentler.

Maybe the promise of hot, fresh coffee would be enough to coax her out. My gut told me she would be much like a timid foal right now, where only the best of enticements could lure her into getting ready. We still had a few hours before meeting up with everyone.

Truth be told, I was hoping to cash in my rain check for last night. I was practically a saint helping her until she passed out on the bathroom floor and then carrying her to the bed before finally getting her tucked in.

Just call me Saint Hensley.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” she replied, her voice muffled.

“You sang
Dream On
by
Aerosmith
. . . a few octaves too high, but it was a real crowd pleaser.”