Impulsive (11 page)

“Come here,” he commanded.
 

Before she knew what he was doing, he swept her into his embrace. He let her cry into his bare chest and stroked her hair. She’d been holding everything inside for too long, and without Luke to steady her, she felt adrift. Thinking of him only made her ache more. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him until that moment.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked, lips brushing over her hair. “I’m an asshole, but I’m a pretty good listener.”

She told him everything about the divorce, the story tumbling out in incoherent bits and pieces. He held her and listened without comment until she was through. It felt good to confess the hurt and anger over her father’s behavior, the anguish over her mother’s heartbreak, and her frustration at being unable to resolve the situation. When she was done, she pushed away from him. Crying never solved anything, and the sooner she stopped, the sooner she could work on a solution to her problems.
 

“Sorry.” She swiped at the tears on his chest. “I’m not usually a crier.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m usually the one making people cry. It’s nice to be on the other side of things for a change.”

Over pasta and salad, Tasha brought out her iPad and clicked through her best tattoo designs. Something had shifted between them following her breakdown. He’d lost a little of his rock star polish and seemed more interested in her company than impressing her with his lifestyle. Elijah studied each design, his full lower lip drawn between perfect white teeth. Her brow furrowed, taking his silence as disapproval. When she came to the final picture, he sat back and rubbed his nose.
 

“I like this one,” he said, pointing to the peacock. “I want something like this, but not so pretty. Dirty it up a little, you know?”

Before she could speak, a crowd of people tumbled into the suite. The other band members of Seven Drift, a dozen scruffy roadies, a few girls, and a couple of guys in suits who looked like bodyguards milled around the foyer. Noise and chaos replaced the tranquil quiet.
 

“Eli. Dude. Come on.” Tristan gamboled over to them, the picture of a disheveled rock star in ripped jeans and a red leather vest. He gave Tasha a cursory glance and nod before focusing his attention on Elijah. “Seth has some great ideas for the next album. We need to get cracking.”

“Uh, excuse me. Busy here.” Elijah’s gaze locked onto Tasha’s face.
 

“Fuck, man.” Tristan groaned, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a fistful of hundred-dollar bills. He thrust them at Tasha. “Here, love. Run along.”
 

Tasha stared at the money. The bills fluttered untouched to the plush carpet. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. The insult pricked her ego. She glared at Tristan and tried to formulate a fitting retort. The corners of Elijah’s mouth tightened. Before she could reply, Elijah grabbed the money and shoved it into Tristan’s chest.

“What’s wrong with you, man? She’s not a whore, so don’t treat her like one.” The threat in his voice got Tristan’s attention. “Apologize, ass wipe.”

“Sorry,” Tristan said. A sheepish smile softened his sharp features. “My bad. I just assumed. Dude hasn’t had a legit chick in years. Goes with the territory, you know?” Humor brightened his face. “Whores and rock stars. Make a great song title, don’t you think?”

Tasha wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t matter because Tristan’s attention snagged on something across the room and he gamboled off in the other direction, singing about whores and rock stars. Music blared from a sound system down the hall. A dozen more people came into the room. She grabbed her iPad and held it to her chest, completely overwhelmed by the influx of strangers.

“Elijah. Tristan. Let’s go, guys,” Seth said as he strummed a guitar. “We need to get this shit down while it’s fresh.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.” Elijah swept a hand through his hair and gave her a long look. “I hate to cut this short. I was looking forward to getting to know you better.” One corner of his mouth curled up in a suggestive smirk. “Another time, I guess.”

“Okay, well, I’ll get out of here.” She shoved the iPad into her bag and drew the strap over her shoulder.

“I’ll walk you to the elevator. Tony can drive you back.” He gestured toward an enormous guy in a blue suit with a crew cut and black sunglasses.
 

“It’s okay. I can catch a cab.” The idea of escape sounded appealing. She gripped her bag tighter and searched for the door through the sea of unfamiliar faces. The scent of marijuana drifted around the room.

“Tony, call down and get a cab for the lady, will you?” Elijah issued the order without looking away from Tasha. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

Elijah nudged her down the hall. He pressed the button to call the elevator car. She glanced up at him. A flash of ultra-blue eyes preceded the touch of his lips on hers. Soft at first, the kiss deepened in the space of one heartbeat. His hand went to her hip, gripping and holding her in place. He explored the inside of her mouth with sensual leisure. A deep growl from his throat indicated his approval.
 

In the distance, the quiet ding of the elevator sounded. Elijah curled a hand around the nape of her neck to hold her in place. Her nipples tightened at the brush of his hard chest against hers and the untamed feel of his tongue, teeth, and lips. His kiss tasted of decadence and sin. She rose to her toes, meeting him halfway, before she realized it. A thrill of trepidation heightened the sensation. He was wild and dark and needy, drawing her against him. Part of her wanted to dive deeper into the abyss. Just as she teetered on the brink, the elevator doors hissed open.

He ended their kiss abruptly, leaving her open-mouthed and bewildered, but the grip of his hand tightened on her hip. She put her hands on his chest to get some distance between them. One corner of his mouth curled around like a comma. His eyes flitted over her shoulder and sparkled with mischief.
 

“Hello, Luke,” Elijah said.

Chapter 17

Tasha’s pulse skyrocketed. Without turning around, she felt Luke’s judgment descend over her. This had to look bad. If he wasn’t angry with her before, he would be now. The last thing she wanted was to hurt or disappoint him. So far, she’d failed miserably on both accounts.

Elijah’s amused gaze flitted to Luke and back again. A sigh of frustration escaped before she could stop it. She shoved him back with a scowl and turned around. Luke’s amber eyes drilled into her, searching her face, looking for answers but giving none of his own.

“Hey,” she managed to say. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. His focus slid to her lips. A furrow appeared between his brows.

“We were just finishing up a meeting.” One of Elijah’s eyebrows arched.
 

Heat rushed into her cheeks. She resisted the urge to pass a hand over her mouth, lips still stinging from Elijah’s kiss.
 

“And what kind of meeting was it exactly?” Luke asked, his tone heavy with sarcasm.
 

“I like your girlfriend,” Elijah said. Tasha jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d forgotten he was there. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “She’s tasty.”
 

“Don’t be a dick,” Luke said. “And she’s not my girlfriend. She’s made that very clear.”

“Oh, really?” Elijah raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “Then why can’t I have her?”

“Nobody can have me,” Tasha said.
 

“Or maybe we could share you?” Elijah waggled his eyebrows. “Could be fun. What do you say, Luke? Like old times?” His gaze drilled into her then he winked. “That’ll give you something to think about tonight, Tattoo Girl.”

“Eli. Enough,” Luke said. An undertone of amusement tinged his warning, like he was reprimanding an unruly but precocious child.

“Is it?” Elijah asked. “Personally, I can’t ever get enough.” This time his focus homed in on Luke and stayed there until Tasha grew uncomfortable.

The way Luke bit his bottom lip and avoided her eyes suggested there might be some truth to the suggestion. She scanned his face, searching for clues, and found nothing. A frisson of tension pulsed between the three of them.

 
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think I’ve had enough,” Tasha said. She tried to step around Elijah, but he hooked an arm about her waist and pulled her into him.

Both men were staring at her. Luke shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels, his eyes accusing. Elijah brimmed with excitement, as if he’d just received a new toy and couldn’t wait to play with it. The air thickened with something she couldn’t define, a mixture of attraction and friction.

 
“What the fuck, Elijah?” Seth poked his head out of the penthouse door. “Are you coming or not? This shit isn’t going to write itself.”
 

“Get off me, man. I’ll be there in a sec.” Elijah waved a bored hand in Seth’s direction before turning to Luke. “I’ve got to get busy, but I’d really like to continue this conversation at a later time.” He twirled a finger in the air between them. “Maybe the three of us can hook up for dinner or something.”

Luke laughed, but she couldn’t tell if he was amused or pissed.

“I don’t see anything funny,” she snapped. A surge of anger prickled her skin, masking the hurt beneath it. Whatever game they were playing, she wanted no part of it. She turned to the elevator and relieved a little of her frustration by stabbing the call button repeatedly. The sooner she could get away from them, the better. Her attraction to both men had her mind whirling.

“Hold up, Tash. I’ll ride down with you,” Luke said.

“Don’t bother,” she said.

The doors opened, and she stepped into the elevator. Luke pushed in behind her. She stared straight ahead, ignoring him. The car stopped on the next floor, and a handful of people crammed into the elevator with them. Luke stood behind her, his front pressed to her back.
 

Conflicting feelings of longing and irritation cluttered her mind. Part of her wanted to be angry with him for mingling their friendship with sex. Sex complicated everything. It made her father leave her mother, and it made Luke confuse friendship with romance. Part of her blamed herself for letting things get out of hand. She’d known he was off limits, and she’d gone for it anyway. Her impulsive nature always got her in trouble. When was she going to learn from her mistakes?
 

When they departed the elevator, she headed straight to the revolving door and hoped Luke wouldn’t follow her. The second she stepped onto the sidewalk, the sights and sounds of the city churned around her in stark contrast to the quiet cocoon of the penthouse. Car horns blared, buses rumbled past, and voices hummed. People jostled them on either side, eager to get home after a long day of work. Tasha headed for the curb, where the doorman held her taxi, but Luke stopped her.
 

“My car’s over there. I can give you a ride home,” he said.

“No. I’m good,” she said and opened the taxi door. “Go back to your buddy.”

“Tasha, look at me.” He moved between her and the cab, blocking her escape.

Reluctantly, she turned to meet his eyes. The noise and bustle around them faded away. He smiled at her, a little shyly, and it all came rushing back to her. This was her friend. Her best friend. The guy who held her hair when she puked after too many vodka shooters and killed spiders in her bathroom. Where was that guy? She needed reassurance about him, about her, about who they were.

“That, up there?” She pointed to the top of the hotel. “It was just weird. I feel like I stepped into an alternate universe or something.”

“I know. The dude’s out there sometimes, but what can you expect? He lives in a fish bowl with a bunch of people who cater to his every wish.” Luke’s hand sought hers and tightened around it. “He lives by a totally different code than us.”

“No. I’m talking about you. You didn’t seem like you up there,” she said, pulling back. She slid into the cool interior of the taxi. Luke’s face fell and he studied his shoes for a few seconds. When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes were filled with so much sadness that her throat tightened in empathy.
 

 
“We had—we had a past,” he said, his voice thick. He looked away and swallowed. “Look, I can’t explain it. It’s complicated.” When his gaze returned to hers, she saw fear in its depths. “I’m not sure you’d understand. Especially after that kiss.”
 

Her cheeks burned from the accusation. She tried to pretend she’d been unaffected by Elijah’s kiss, knowing Luke would see it on her face. It had meant nothing. Elijah probably kissed a dozen girls a day in the exact same way. In fact, he was probably kissing one of his whores right now, and she was fine with it.
 

“Look, about that…” she began, but he stopped her by shaking his head.

“Not my business,” he said, and closed the car door behind her.

Chapter 18

The next weekend, Tasha walked into Felony, and a warm, tingling sensation washed over Luke. He’d been replenishing the speed rail in preparation for the night and turned to watch her cross the dance floor. She wore some kind of tight pants made out of strategically placed strips of red lace held together by black mesh. Fair white skin peeked through the grid of the mesh, tantalizing him. He held his breath as she bent to toss her purse beneath the counter. When she straightened, their eyes met and held for an interminable second. They were several feet apart but it was as if she touched him. The corners of her lips curved upward.
 

“Hey,” she said. The breathy quality of her voice made his groin tighten. It was only one word, but the intimacy of it was unmistakable.
 

“Hey, yourself,” he said.
 

“If you two are done eye-fucking each other, I could use a little help over here.” Randy, in his usual no-nonsense manner, interrupted without apology. He carried an armload of canned beer for the coolers and dropped it on the floor next to Luke. Tasha glared at Randy.