Play (Stage Dive, #2)(57)

“I’m going to go play the drums for a while,” he asked. “I’ll drop you back at the apartment first.”

“There’s a practice session tonight?”

His smile didn’t even get close to his eyes. “No. I just feel like hitting the drums.”

“You didn’t want to come home with me?” I asked, and he knew to what I was referring; he had to know.

Mal shrugged.

Oh, no. No way. He did not just shrug off us finally having sex. This was not a situation where ambivalence could be considered cool in any way, shape, or form. The limo pulled into the nighttime traffic, awaiting notification of our destination, no doubt.

Mal pulled out his cell and started flipping through the screens. I crossed my arms over my chest. Fine, if that was the way he wanted to play it. Outside, downtown Portland passed us by in all its beauty. The trees in one of the little parks were lit up. Everything glistened in the wet weather. Tiny streams ran down the car windows, obscuring the view.

Fuck it; if he really wanted to go and drum he could just go. Obviously, he wasn’t in the mood for company. I opened my mouth to agree to the plan but nothing came out. This wasn’t working. Truth was, I could be a stubborn bitch and horny didn’t really sit well with me. Might be best if I had some space.

“Can you ask him to pull over?” I pushed a strand of carrot-colored hair out of my face. “There’s no need for you to go out of your way. I’ll find my own way home. Catch up with you later.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not dropping you on a street corner in the rain, Anne. I’ll take you home.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

“What?”

He said nothing.

Ugh, avoidance. I knew it so well. I couldn’t keep demanding that he share with me when I had no intention of spilling my whole sorry history to him. No one needed to hear that.

Still, we were better than this. Or we should be.

“Fuck this,” I muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Fuck. This.”

He cocked his head.

“Safety in moving vehicles is highly overrated.”

“Wha–”

I crossed to the seat beside him. Then went one better, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. He blinked, his hands hovering over my hips as if unsure where to set down. His cell fell to the side, forgotten apparently. Thank god I’d worn a skirt. It was shortish and made of a stretchy material, useful for so many occasions but particularly this one.

“Anne.”

“Mal.”

“What’s going on?”

“The night isn’t ending this way,” I told him, perfectly calm. “I won’t let it.”

He looked at me like I’d started speaking in tongues. Which was actually an excellent idea, given I had no real idea what the problem was here.

I slipped my hands around the back of his neck. Now I got why he always did this, the skin was so soft and warm there. In all honesty, I had no idea what to say; kissing him made much more sense than blurting out the wrong thing again. I brushed my lips against his, plump and perfect. His swift intake of breath was music to my ears. Given half a chance, I could have paid homage to his lips all night. Hooker lips. No other man was this kissable.

“I hate seeing you sad.”

We stared at each other, our faces close. Whatever was going on with him, hurting him, it needed to stay away from the here and now. Mal and I had earned this moment. He’d just forgotten it somewhere along the way, gotten sidetracked. Lucky for him, I hadn’t.

“Whatever it is, let me fix it. Just for a little while …”

I angled my head and kissed him, tracing my tongue over his lips. He tasted wonderful. Already my hips shifted restlessly in his lap, seeking more. I was in heat and it was all his fault, so he’d just have to deal with it. With a groan he gave up and opened his mouth. Fuck, I loved the feel of his tongue, the sweet taste of him. It went straight to my head, making me giddy.

He didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up my legs, under my skirt, going straight for the kill, god love him.

“Need something?” he asked, fingers stroking over my thighs.

“You.”

“Fuck. Anne.” His mouth chased mine, pushing for more, deeper. And holy hell, was I happy to give. The tips of his clever fingers stroked the crotch of my panties, making every corner of me light up in response. If anything stopped us this time, I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions.

“Keep doing that,” I panted, tugging the tie from his ponytail to loosen his hair.

“You don’t want this instead?” The pad of his thumb pressed against my clit, moving in small circles.

“Oh, god.” My head fall back, sensation rushing through me. I was so turned on it was embarrassing. The damp fabric of my panties told the tale. But we’d had days and days of foreplay, really. Long before I’d met him I’d wanted him, though reality far exceeded my expectations. Mal Ericson was my dream come true. The kissathon at David and Ev’s, lying awake missing him last night, these things had already pushed me to the edge. Safety and sensible be damned. I’d get as much of him as I could for as long as I could.

“That’s it,” he murmured.

I pushed forward against his hand, seeking more. He cradled the back of my skull, holding up my head so he could see. “You are so f*cking pretty. Have I told you that?”