7. Paxton
7
PAXTON
I think I broke her. Not literally. Hell, I barely touched her. But she’s quiet. And from what little I’ve gathered about the woman, I have a hunch she’s rarely quiet. Did I push her too far? We haven’t even kissed, but I finger-fucked her in the middle of a restaurant. It was empty, and she asked me to, but still.
The parking lot is empty as we walk toward my bike.
“Thanks for the, uh, the burger,” Tatum murmurs. It’s dark. There’s a chill in the air. Digging in my pouch, I pull out a leather jacket and offer it. With a shy smile, she unfolds her arms and turns around, letting me dress her. Lifting her shoulder, she presses her nose to the thick material and breathes in deep.
“You good?” I ask.
“Smells like you.”
I nod. “Is that a problem?”
With a slow shake of her head, she gives me her full attention. “You are many things, Pax. Stinky isn’t one of them.”
I chuckle and pull her into me. “You good with what happened inside?”
“Is this you being concerned about me?”
“About whether or not I pushed you too far?” I challenge. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about.”
“Well, you can breathe easy, Mr. Security. I wanted it. I liked it. And I don’t regret it in the least.” She rubs her lips together, peeking up at me through her thick dark lashes. “But you’ll have to cut me some slack for making me feel like I have Jell-O for legs. That was, uh, you have very talented fingers.”
“You know, I think I’ve been told that a time or two.”
She groans and smacks my chest. “Blah, don’t remind me.”
Gripping her ass the way I wanted to in the restaurant, I tug her into me again, and she melts like butter. Probably still riding the high from her orgasm, but I’m not complaining. My cock’s so eager to blow its load, any touch will do.
“I’ve had fun tonight,” I admit.
“That doesn’t surprise me. You seem like you’re a fan of handfuls.”
Another rumble of amusement claws its way up my throat. “Is that what you are? A handful?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Reaching down, I grip the edge of her hip and squeeze her round ass. “Normally, I’m not so easy to read.”
“Give me a little more credit,” she quips. “Maybe I'm just really good at reading people.”
I believe it. Those hazel eyes don’t seem like they miss much.
Curious, I ask, “And what am I thinking now?”
Her gaze narrows as she smooths out the fabric over my chest. “You’re hoping I’ll invite you to my hotel so we can finish what you started.”
“What I started?” I laugh. “You’re the one who told me what you wanted for your birthday.”
“And you were more than happy to oblige,” she quips. “In a public restaurant.”
“Gotta make your birthday a memorable one. After all, it’s your twenty-first. Although, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I owe you at least one more gift for the evening.”
She beams back at me, though I don’t miss the edge of sass accompanying it. “You do, don’t you? And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll return the favor.”
“How generous of you. But it’s your birthday, not mine.”
Her brow lifts. “Unselfish and good with your hands?”
“You should see what my mouth can do.”
Her smile widens. “You should see what my mouth can do.”
My cock jerks in my jeans, and I move toward her, pinning Tatum to my bike as she stares up at me with a coy smile I’d give anything to taste. “Careful,” I warn. “I’m already rock hard.”
“Are you saying you don’t want my mouth, Paxton?” She nibbles her bottom lip and peeks up at me through her thick, dark lashes.
My cock flexes again. It’s addictive. The look in her eyes. The sass. The push and the pull I’ve felt more with her than anyone I’ve ever been around, and we just met. She’s a fucking tease, but I like it. I like it a lot more than I should, and I fight the urge to grind against her right here, right now. “I feel like this is a test.”
Her mouth curves just the slightest. “Maybe.”
Unable to help myself, I steal a kiss, dragging my tongue along the seam of her lips as my hands find her waist. I push myself against her, letting her feel exactly what she does to me, my erection pressing against her stomach. After a sharp inhale, she tilts her head and opens her mouth wider. Chocolate’s on her breath from her birthday shake. It only makes me crave her more. I dip my tongue into her mouth, committing her taste to memory. When I pull back, she sucks in a quick breath, her gaze nothing but fucking lava.
“Kiss me again,” she orders. But I can still hear it. The breathiness. The plea. She thinks she’s in charge, but she’s as weak for me as I am for her. Putting us out of our misery, I bridge the gap between us, and she slips her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging gently. The slight pain shoots straight to my groin, and I fight back my groan. Fuck, this girl is something else. Arching her back, she presses her body against mine. Her curves mold to me, and I like it. A lot.
“Gonna tell me to get on my knees yet?” she breathes out.
“Nah, but I am gonna tell you to open them.”
“We’re in public,” she reminds me.
“Didn’t stop us before.”
She shakes her head, fighting back her amusement. “You know, you’re way too famous to be this careless.”
She’s right. I am too famous to be pulling shit like this. Maybe it’s because it’s the middle of the night. Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to be at the meet and greet instead of outside a burger joint pressed against a girl I’ve just met. Maybe it’s because Judge’s family pays for the best PR firm in the US—not because the band can’t afford it, but because his family is anal about everything, but most importantly, public perception—who’ve already proven they know how to cover the band’s tracks whenever necessary. And maybe it’s because the girl in front of me isn’t looking at me like she wants to fuck a rockstar simply to claim she did. Nah, she’s looking at me like tonight is a secret. One meant for only me and her.
“Do you want to invite me to your place?” I ask.
“You mean the hotel room I’m sharing with Rory?” She pats my chest. “No thank you. But I’m sure you’ll think of something, Mr. Security.” Reaching for the helmet on the seat, she slides it on and tilts her head back. Grabbing her throat, I bring her toward me, squeezing softly before redoing the buckle. It’s like a twisted game of deja vu. Only this time, I know what she tastes like. The reminder makes it almost impossible to keep my hands to myself, though somehow, I manage. Once her helmet is in place, I slide mine on and climb onto the bike. She joins me without a word, wrapping her arms around my waist without any prodding from me.
I don’t ask if she wants me to take the long or short way this time. Pretty sure my cock will split through my zipper if I prolong this any more than I already have. When we stop at a light, Tatum’s hands around my waist dip lower. Her fingers brush against me through my jeans, and I drop my head forward, trying to maintain some semblance of control. She squeezes me, not even bothering for subtlety, and it only turns me on more.
“Careful,” I warn.
She strokes me again, and I swear I see stars.
Running my tongue between my upper teeth and lip, I pull out my phone.
Me
Get me a room at The Grande.
Danny
For tonight?
Me
Yeah. Don’t tell anyone else.
Danny
Give me five. I’ll put it under the usual name.
Me
Thanks.
Then I shove my phone back into my pocket, the light turns green, and we’re off.
Tatum doesn’t ask if I got a room. She doesn’t ask why I got one, either. Nah, the girl’s smarter than that, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. How she has me wrapped around her little finger, the same way she was wrapped around mine at the restaurant. Despite being a rockstar, I don’t normally do this. Invite a girl on stage. Buy her dinner. Ask her about herself. Book a hotel room. I’m more of a where’s-an-empty-closet kind of guy. It’s a little messed up, but it is what it is. So, this? This is throwing me off, but I’m too interested to back down now. Not unless she tells me to.
Tatum’s standing by the elevator. Her long black hair a tousled mess from the helmet and the ride over here. She’s still wearing my jacket. It’s left open and reaches past the hem of her skirt. The sleeves go well past her fingertips, falling in loose folds by her bent elbows as she chews on the edge of her thumb. Gorgeous. Nervous . And gorgeous.
“Will that be all?” the receptionist asks.
I turn back to the front desk, finish checking in, and take the key to my room before leading us to the penthouse. It’s quiet. Usually, my nights are filled with after parties, random faces, and alcohol. This is…different.
“I need to call Rory,” Tatum murmurs. “Make sure she got to the hotel safely.” She pulls out her phone, her hips swaying with every step before she opens the sliding glass door and closes it behind her.
She didn’t ask permission. Not that she needed to, but still. Most girls I’ve been with would’ve said, “Are you okay if I call Rory?” as if my opinion—or my time—matters. Tatum? Tatum doesn’t give a flying fuck, and it’s a hot as hell.
Resting her elbows on the balcony railing, she brings the phone to her ear, though I can’t hear what’s said thanks to the tall glass door separating us. Her long legs tease me from beneath her skirt, her silhouette acting like gasoline as the moon shines in front of her, highlighting her curves.
Fucking gorgeous.
When she hangs up a minute later, I grab a cigarette from my pocket and stride toward her on the balcony. The city lights are far below, though I’m too distracted by the girl beside me to care. I balance the cigarette between my lips and flick the lighter, my body craving the nicotine almost as much as it craves the woman beside me. As it flares to life, Tatum stares at the orange flame, her lips pursing when I take a deep drag.
There’s that look again. I wondered if I’d imagined it when we left the concert, but here it is. Front and center.
“There a problem?” I ask.
“You smoke.”
“You already knew that.” I rest my elbows on the railing but keep my neck craned toward her. “And if my memory serves me right, I thought you said you snuck out to have a smoke before the show.”
“And I thought you were less gullible than that,” she counters.
“Ah, so not a smoker. Just a liar.” I tap my temple. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
She sighs, her grip clenching on the wrought iron. “You should put it out.”
“Why? ‘Cause it’ll kill me?” I ask, sucking in another plume of smoke, then blowing it out. “Only the good die young, Birthday Girl.”
Something flashes in her pretty eyes, though it’s gone in an instant. Reaching up, she plucks the cigarette from my mouth, brings it behind her back, and presses her chest to me.
“Someone’s feisty,” I note.
“I don’t like the taste of smoke.”
“You didn’t seem to mind at the restaurant.”
“That was after gum and food,” she points out. “Now, are you going to make me ask for a kiss or are you smarter than that?”
The girl doesn’t have to tell me twice. My mouth lifts, and I pull her into me, kissing her neck. When the bud slips from her fingers and falls to the ground, I snuff it out with my shoe while my hands trail down her spine.
There it is again. Her unapologetic, hit-you-over-the-head-with-it remark. I like it. How she isn’t afraid to speak her mind or tell me what she wants. It’s rare. Most girls think if they voice what they want, they’re dulling the fantasy or some shit, but they’re wrong. And let’s be honest. Most guys are idiots. If they aren’t explicitly told what to do, they won’t do it. If I had to guess, Tatum’s learned firsthand, and instead of bitching about it, she became more blunt. It’s a major turn-on.
As I trail my lips along her skin, Tatum turns her head, stealing a kiss. It’s almost…hesitant. Nothing like before.
My brows dip, and I pull away. “You good?”
“Mm-hmm.” She laces her hands around my neck, tugs me closer before I can question her, and opens her mouth, sucking on my tongue the same way I imagine she would my cock. The imagery is enough to make my head spin. I squeeze her ass, letting her feel me against her.
“Mm-hmm,” she repeats, humming against me as if to say, “Yes. This is why I’m here.” To hook up and get off. Not to look at the stars or learn anything about each other except what drives the other person wild. And she’s right. I’m almost ashamed I needed the reminder.
I reach for the backs of her thighs and pick her up, ready to worship every inch of her after an entire night of foreplay. Once her legs circle my waist, I carry her inside, lay her on one of the leather couches, and pin her in place. With forearms on both sides of her head, I kiss her harder, grinding myself against her pussy as she mewls softly. The sound is like gasoline on an already blazing inferno, and it takes everything inside me to keep from ripping her clothes off and rutting into her like a wild animal. Ignoring my throbbing cock, I slide down her body, reach for her skirt, unbutton the top, and tug it down her legs and off her feet before doing the same to her thong. Spreading her pussy, I kiss her folds softly, blowing air on her clit until she squirms beneath me. Fuck, I love this. Watching what I do to her. How she reacts to me. The tiny whimpers. The quivering mess. Her leg muscles tighten as if she’s thinking of closing them, but I dig my fingers into the soft flesh, keeping her spread wide for me.
I like her like this. At my mercy. Dripping. Begging. And so fucking ready for whatever I’m willing to give her.
Diving in for another kiss, I lap at her pussy, swirling the tip of my tongue against her opening and pressing the flat of it against her pulsing clit. Another gasp escapes her as her hands find my hair, twisting the strands into her fist until my scalp twinges as she pushes me against her center.
I think she likes it.
With a smirk, I look up before thrusting my tongue inside of her, and fuck, what I wouldn’t give for it to be my aching cock. She’s pretty like this. Desperate and needy. Her fingers claw at my scalp, threatening to yank every strand of hair from my head as I fuck her with my tongue, but the unhinged desperation only makes me greedier. To see how far I can push her. How quickly I can make her fall apart.
Her hips gyrate in tiny circles, meeting me move for move as I continue my assault. When I trust she won’t move, I let go of her leg and glide my hand along the inside of her thigh. She feels like silk. Soft. Delicate. Perfect. Reaching her slit, I slide my forefinger inside, appreciating how wet she is as I move my mouth back to her clit. Sucking on her, I pump my finger in and out until her muscles clamp around my ears and her back arches off the couch. Spasming. And then…liquid.
She melts, her body oozing into the cushions as I kiss my way up her body, savoring every fucking inch. Gently, I drag my fingers along her hairline, pushing her hair away from her face. The girl’s gorgeous. She’s always gorgeous, but this face? This post-orgasmic, glassy-eyed, soft-smiled expression makes me want to puff out my chest and pound against it in pride. I put this there. Me.
With a soft kiss, I murmur, “Happy birthday.”
She sighs, letting her eyes close. “I changed my mind.”
“What?”
“I want three.”
“Three?”
“Three orgasms,” she clarifies before blinking away her post-orgasmic haze. “I want a third one.”
“So greedy,” I muse.
She shakes her head. “I believe you mean so generous .”
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And who’s being generous?” I challenge, tossing her own word back at her. “You or me?”
“Me, obviously.” She grins. “You’re welcome for letting you touch me, by the way.”
My fingers drag along her skin, committing every curve, every silky inch, to memory. “You are a prize.”
“I thought I was a fan,” she argues dryly. “And a perk.”
“And a groupie?” I offer, well-aware she’s seconds from smacking me. I can’t help it, though. She’s cute when she’s fired up.
“You’re pushing your luck, Mr. Security. Now about that third orgasm…”
I laugh and kiss her nose. “And how would you like it?”
“Well, let’s see.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “I’ve had your hand and your mouth. The only thing missing from the trifecta is the thing between your legs.”
“You saying you want my cock, Birthday Girl?”
“Do you have a condom?”
My mouth quirks. “I’m a rockstar.”
“Yeah, I’m aware this isn’t your first rodeo, but thanks for the reminder.” She rolls her eyes.
“What? It doesn’t turn you on?”
“You being a famous rockstar who’s had your dick in who knows how many holes?” She scoffs. “Hardly.”
“Yet here you are,” I point out. “Spread out beneath me, your taste still on my tongue and requesting a third orgasm.”
Her eyes drop to my mouth as if my words alone are enough to get her there again before she meets my gaze once more. “Give me a little more credit. Maybe your charming personality got you here.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. That and your body.” She drags her fingers beneath my shirt and along my spine, spreading a trail of goosebumps across my skin as she continues, “Although, if you want to stay here, you need to promise me something.”
“What?”
I dive in for another kiss, but she presses her hand to my chest, stopping me. “One night only,” she whispers.
I pull back, surprised by the sheer stubbornness in her pretty gaze. “Isn’t that my line?”
“I mean it,” she pushes. “At the show, you said you like the chase.” She licks her lips. “Promise you won’t chase me.”
“Tate—”
“Promise me.”
A stone lands in my gut. She wants me to promise I won’t chase her after this? I stare at her, confusion and intrigue coursing through me. She really is serious. She only wants one night. One time. One memory to take with her as she goes about the rest of her life. And, it’s not like I want more, but…damn.
She’s confident. I’ll give her that much. I’ve never had a girl draw a line in the sand like this. Like it really is meaningless. Like the only reason I’m here is to get her off. And even though I’ve been in her shoes more times than I can count in this profession—only wanting one thing from the girls I pick up after a show—it doesn’t soften the hit to my ego.
So this is what it feels like. To be on the other side. To be the one pushed away. Fuck, I don’t think I like it.
Refusing to let it go, I challenge, “What? You afraid I’ll get attached or something?”
“Promise me, Pax.” It’s a whisper. A plea. And fuck, if it doesn’t mess with my head.
“I promise.” Unzipping my jeans, I shift them down and slip on a condom. Once it’s in place, I grab her thigh, hooking it over my hip until my cock is pressed against her slit. “Ready?”
“Do you always ask your conquests that question?”
“Do you always chat this much when fucking?”
“Well, since we aren’t technically fucking yet?—”
Her jaw drops as I thrust into her, practically ripping the girl in two. And maybe I would’ve if I hadn’t primed her earlier. Twice. Her core squeezes around me, practically weeping.
“Again,” she begs.
I pull out of her, then shove myself back inside, and she gasps. “Just like that. Slow and hard.”
Doing as I’m told, I repeat the movement, but this time she jerks her hips into the air and meets me halfway. Fuck, I’m so deep, part of me wonders where she ends and I begin. Her center squeezes around me with every thrust. I swear I’m about to black out as she tugs me into her and kisses me, hooking her legs around my waist.
“Careful,” I growl. “If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna come.”
Her walls constrict around me again, and her breath brushes against my lips. “If you keep hitting that spot, then I’m gonna come.”
My fingers dig into her thigh, and she arches her back even more, squeezing her eyes shut and clawing at my shoulder blades beneath my shirt as if she’s determined to drag me down with her.
“Just.” Thrust. “Like.” Thrust. Her nails find my scalp and scrape against it as she falls apart beneath me, her body tensing then melting like before. “Pax,” she moans.
I tumble after her, my cock spurting inside her tight little body until my arms give out and I collapse on top of her. It’s like she’s sucked every last piece of me, leaving me bone dry, exhausted, and so damn satiated, I’m pretty sure I can officially die a happy man.
My breath is unsteady as I try to slow my racing pulse, but I feel like I just finished a marathon.
Now where’s my gold medal? Oh, wait…
With a smile, I kiss the crown of Tatum’s head. “Stay.”
Her lips brush against my Adam’s apple, then she settles back into the cushions. “Promise me something. Something else,” she clarifies, referring to her non-negotiable one-time-only clause before I entered her.
“How come you’re the only one who’s allowed to make requests?” I challenge. My fingertips drag along her sides as I savor her silky skin beneath me. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Quit smoking.”
I lift my head and look down at her. “What?”
“Promise me you’ll quit smoking.”
My eyes widen.
I’ve had women ask me a lot of shit, but no one’s ever asked me to quit smoking. If anything, they ask for a hit after I light up, and I usually give it to them.
A sheen of indecision glazes her pretty eyes as she forces herself to look at me. It cuts straight through me, nearly knocking me on my ass despite the fact that she’s very much still pinned beneath me on the couch.
“You’re right about the good dying young, Pax,” she whispers. “And I know you don’t know me. I know I have no say in what you do with your life. I know you’re an untouchable rockstar, but…you should quit.” She sniffs and licks her lips again, her focus dropping to my chin, like she can’t even look at me anymore, and fuck if it doesn’t hurt. And even though I can literally feel her pulling away, part of me wonders if this is the first time I’ve really seen the gorgeous girl named Tatum since meeting her tonight. Dropping her tone even softer, she adds, “You should quit for yourself. For your fans. For the people who love you. Okay?”
Pushing her hair away from her face, I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose in hopes of dissipating the little dark cloud that popped up out of nowhere. “Stay with me, and I will.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not fair.”
“Why not?”
Her soft body stiffens, and she pulls away, pushing her head even further into the couch cushions behind her. “Because we promised one night.”
“So?”
“So, if I stay, this…whatever this is, will bleed into two, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let that happen.”
Disappointment surges through me, but I hold my ground. “Why not?”
Something clouds her pretty gaze before she states the obvious. “Because you’re a rockstar.”
“So?” I repeat.
“So, you’re a rockstar and I’m… Pax, I’m no one.” She slips out from beneath me and reaches for her clothes. “I’m not even a groupie. I’m just…some girl you hooked up with after a concert one time. Add me to the list, am I right?”
The accusation cuts, but I shove the feeling aside. “So, because I’ve done this before, you refuse to stay the night?”
She slips her shirt over her head. “I refuse to stay the night because I’m not interested in…anything else.”
“Well, fuck.” I force a laugh and squeeze the back of my neck as she shifts her skirt into place. “Talk about a blow to the ego.”
She smirks. “I think you’ll survive.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I mutter, sliding the condom off, tying a small knot at the end, and tossing it in the trash. “Can I at least have your number?”
“No.”
I jerk back, trying not to be offended, though it isn’t exactly easy. Not when she seems so distant and unaffected. “Why not?” I ask.
“Because we already agreed to one night only and you’re not allowed to chase me.”
“Then don’t run,” I suggest.
Unamused, she drops her head back toward the ceiling. “Pax…”
“Give me a chance,” I push. I don’t know why. I’ve never been interested in more than a night, but this one? This one felt different. She felt different. I can’t be the only one who felt…something. Can I? “Give me a chance,” I repeat, more resolute than before.
“No.”
“Why?”
With a sigh, she rolls her head forward, her eyes glazed with indecision. “Because I’m…”
I wait for her to finish, but when I’m only met with silence, I argue, “Don’t tell me you’re not interested, Birthday Girl. I had you moaning my name less than five minutes ago.”
Her mouth lifts an inch. “You’re good in bed, Pax. That doesn’t mean you’ve earned my number.”
“What about before?” I demand. “What about the restaurant? I’m not saying I want to marry you, but I’m also not stupid. You had fun tonight. We both had fun tonight, and if you’re gonna play hard to get, I have no problem asking Dodge?—”
“You can’t do that,” she rushes out. Her indifferent facade cracks, giving me a front-row seat to her panicked expression. Hell, she doesn’t even look panicked, she looks…downright terrified.
My Adam’s apple bobs in my throat as I study her carefully. She’s hiding something from me. I just can’t figure out what it is. “Why won’t you give me your number?” I ask.
“Because I’m…because I’m already with someone.”
“With someone,” I repeat, feeling less than convinced. This girl spews more bullshit than a lactose intolerant person after a pound of cheesecake and a bottle of Ex-Lax to wash it down. But the panic? The terror? It’s real.
What are you hiding?
“Yes, with someone.” She scowls at me, clearly picking up on my suspicion and unafraid of backing down. “I’m engaged.”
My muscles seize, and I swear my vision cuts to black before I blink it away. But here she is. Standing in the middle of the hotel room. Looking thoroughly gorgeous in a just-fucked kind of way. Her hair a mess. Her lips swollen from my mouth. How did tonight turn upside down so quickly?
She lets her confession hang in the air. Lets it fuck with my head. Lets it taint the high of our night together, leaving me empty and confused and…fuck, is she really serious? “What did you say?” I breathe out, convincing myself I misheard her.
“I said, I’m engaged,” she repeats. “That’s why you can’t see me again. Why you can’t ask Dodger for my number. Because if you do, my fiancé will find out and?—”
I surge to my feet. “Who is he?”
She flinches. “What?”
“Who is he? What’s his name?”
She’s gotta be lying. No one cheats on their fiance like that. Like we just did. No one spends the night connecting with someone—sharing pieces of themselves with someone—only to walk away without a backward glance. It’s bullshit. It has to be.
“I— You—” She shifts away, reminding me of a cornered alley cat. “You have no right to ask me that.”
“Cat got your tongue, Birthday Girl?” I demand. My cock is still hanging out for the world to see, but I don’t give a shit. Not right now. I’m too fucking pissed. “What’s. His. Name?”
“Archer,” she blurts out. “His name’s Archer, all right?” Regret and shame flash across her pretty face, proving I’ve hit a nerve. And for the first time since we finished having sex, I’m afraid she’s telling the truth.
Fuck, is she telling the truth?
“Now, will you please just…let it go?” she whispers.
“Let it go,” I repeat, convinced I must’ve rolled off the couch mid-orgasm and hit my head or something. But I didn’t. No. Instead, I’m standing six inches from the girl who cheated on her fiance with me. A girl who I actually felt a connection with. And fuck, it hurts and only pisses me off more. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I ask, “What was this?”
She stays quiet, her lips forming a small ‘o’ as she breathes out whatever’s left of her indecision and straightens her spine. “This was my last…hurrah before being tied down,” she clarifies. “And who wouldn’t want to take advantage of a night with a rockstar, you know?”
“So I’m just a rich dick to you.”
“I mean, look at it this way. You got a fun night with a groupie, and I got a memorable birthday present from a rockstar. Sounds like a win-win to me, am I right?”
Red taints my vision. “You lied.”
“I guess I did, didn’t I?” She twists the gold ring around her middle finger and lifts a shoulder, appearing about as affected by our conversation as she would watching paint dry. “Even more reason to not track me down after I walk out the door.”
I stare down at her, disgusted. Pretty sure she’s never felt like more of a stranger than in this moment. “Who. Are. You?” I demand.
She flinches at the animosity in my voice before lowering her chin in a soft nod. “Have a good night, Pax.”
Then, she walks away.