Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(51)

We were back in bed, comforter up to our waists. Vance had his arms around me; I had my hands pressed against his chest.

Boo was sitting on the end of the bed staring at us with barely concealed impatience at what he considered the unacceptable delay in the arrival of his morning wet food breakfast.

After we were done on the floor in the hall, wordlessly Vance had carried me up to the bed not like last time but cradled in his arms. He’d managed that feat too, gracefully. He pulled me into bed, yanked the comforter over us and he held me, still silent.

I was silent too. My body was completely sated after three earth-shattering, back-to-back orgasms, so much so, I could barely move.

My mind was blank with shock and, if I admitted it to myself, pure unadulterated fear.

I pulled my thoughts together, tossed my emotional Rottweiler a juicy steak and twisted my head to look at Vance. “We have to talk.”

And we did. We so had to talk.

He kissed me quickly then looked in my eyes. “Is this one of your whisper-sweet-stories-about-your-life-and-smile-at-me talks or something else?” he asked.

“Something else,” I told him.

“Then we don’t have to talk.”

“Crowe.”

He kissed me again.

“I’ll call you later,” he said.

“Crowe –”

“We’ll go out to dinner before the meet with Darius.”

“Crowe!”

He leaned in, kissed my forehead, let me go, moved swiftly and disappeared off the edge of the platform.

“Crowe!” I shouted.

I scrambled to the end of the bed, wrapping the comforter around my na**d body. With effort and absolutely no grace I threw my legs over the side of the bed, stumbled, corrected myself and jumped down, pulling the bulk of the king-sized comforter with me

I went charging into the living room, Boo hot on my heels but Vance was gone.

“God dammit!” I shouted at the empty room.

“Meow!” Boo concurred.

* * * * *

I arrived at King’s nearly an hour late and the minute I came through the door May bore down on me like I was a clueless tourist wandering into the street in Pamplona and she was the bull.

She was followed, to my complete surprise and absolute mortification, by Daisy and Roxie.

“Well?” May asked after she arrived, looking at my face closely.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated, walked right by the trio and stomped across the room, ignoring the kids who were staring at me.

The ladies caught me at the entry to the hall and hustled me, protesting all the way, into the yellow counseling room. Roxie shut the door and May drew the blind on the window to the hall.

“Oh Sugar, what happened?” Daisy asked, eyes on me, her voice gentle.

I faced off against Daisy and ignored her soft look. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

And I didn’t. My emotional Rottweiler was straining against his chain, snarling and barking, teeth bared.

I didn’t need this shit. I didn’t need these people.

I didn’t need to think about the fact that I’d had unprotected sex, twice, with Crowe. If his swimmers were anything like him they were gonzo and had probably already fertilized at least one of my eggs and as I stood in the yellow counseling room were likely creating a beautiful baby with dark hair, dark eyes and amazing bone structure. This would mean I’d never get Vance Crowe out of my life.

Furthermore I didn’t need to think about what he said to me, how he said it or how it made me feel.

I needed to think about my mission. I needed to keep my head in the game.

The door flew open and Roxie, who still had her hand on the knob, went flying.

Indy, Ally and Jet stormed into the room. I looked to the ceiling and fought for patience, or deliverance, or the ability to beam myself to Nicaragua.

I came back into the room when I heard Indy say, “Sorry Roxie.”

“What’d we miss?” Ally was staring at me.

Jet closed the door.

“I have to get to work,” I announced, stalking to the door but Daisy got in front of me and stopped me.

“He hurt you?” she asked, her voice still kind.

“No,” I answered. “I’m late. I have appointments.”

“Does anyone know if they did it?” Jet whispered to May.

“We haven’t got that far,” May replied.

“Sugar, talk to us,” Daisy grabbed my hand.

I looked at our hands then at her then I pulled my hand out of hers. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but I have work to do and this, really, is none of your business.”

Daisy’s head jerked and she took a step back.

I went to walk by her but a strong hand wrapped around my upper arm, ultra-long fingernails (I noticed, at a glance, they were painted frosty pink with swipes of silver across the tips) biting into my flesh and Daisy turned me back around. I was now facing a Daisy without the kind and gentle look on her face. This was a serious Daisy, serious as a heart attack.

“Girl, I know you’re a kickass, head-crackin’ mamma jamma but whatever happened with Vance you ain’t ever gonna get through if you don’t talk to your girlfriends, comprende?”

“You aren’t my girlfriends,” I told her.