Rock Chick (Rock Chick #1)(25)

“You have ice at Fortnum’s,” Dad said.

Oopsie.

This was true.

“Lee’s ice is better,” I replied.

Lame. I was losing my touch.

“I bet Lee’s ice is better,” Ally muttered and both Kitty Sue and I gave her a killing look.

Hank and Lee were exchanging glances. Hank sighed and rocked back on his heels. Lee uncrossed his arms and draped one around my shoulders. I didn’t even try to decipher what the Lee/Hank glance was all about, it had been a scary enough day.

And anyway, all I could think was that their coming over meant I was off the hook with the Lee Nap. It had been getting pretty flirty there and I needed to restore control.

“Where are we going to dinner?” I asked happily and Lee’s eyes slid sideways and his look made a definite promise of “later”, shattering any illusions of my being off the hook.

“Sushi Den,” Ally answered.

At those two words, Ally and I both immediately threw up our hands, index finger and pinkie extended in the famous, devil’s horns, “Rock On!” gesture and squealed, “Sushi!”

“We’re not having sushi,” Malcolm declared.

“We decided this. We’re having sushi,” Kitty Sue said.

“Sushi’s shit,” Malcolm stated.

“Sushi’s good for you,” Kitty Sue returned.

“Mexican is good for you,” Dad said.

Kitty Sue rolled her eyes.

I went to the bag excitedly.

I loved sushi, but I loved Sushi Den even more. It was one of my favorite restaurants in Denver. It was on Pearl Street, next to Pearl Street Grill and across from Stella’s Coffee Haus.

Sushi Den was made out of cement and glass, they had hostesses filled with attitude who, with a look, could make lesser mortals feel small and even suicidal and they had the best sushi I’d ever tasted. They never took reservations because they were always wall-to-wall people. Ally and I went to Sushi Den at least twice a month and had an ongoing battle to out-attitude the hostesses (with hostesses winning).

“Did you bring me a Sushi Den outfit?” I asked Ally.

You didn’t go to Sushi Den in jeans and cowboy boots. Sushi Den demanded something else entirely. Clothing… black. Shoes… stiletto. I had a full section of my closet devoted to Sushi Den clothes.

“You bet your ass,” Ally replied.

* * * * *

I woke up in Lee’s bed again and my first thought was sake.

I didn’t even like sake but I drank it with Ally at Sushi Den because that’s what you had to do.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

When at Sushi Den, drink hot sake.

I was on my belly, left leg crooked, right one straight, left arm bent with my hand resting on the pillow, right arm crushed between me and what I knew had to be the weight of Lee’s warm, hard body.

In one night, Lee had perfected a strategy of keeping me in one place while I was sleeping. He was pressed against my back, a good deal of his body resting on mine, his arm around me, his left leg bent into the crook of mine and his thigh pressed against my nether regions. This was surprisingly not uncomfortable, it was cozy and warm and made me feel, somehow, safe.

Fucking hell, how did I get myself into these situations?

I thought back to our sake-soaked, family “celebration” dinner and was thankful to discover that I remembered everything.

Eat, drink sake, eat more, drink more sake, get drunk.

Let Lee put me in his Crossfire while I blew kisses to Ally, Hank, Dad, Kitty Sue, Malcolm and the parking valet

Come back to Lee’s condo, stagger into his bedroom, take off clothes, confiscate another wife beater, fall face first in Lee’s big bed because of drunkenness and lack of Disco Nap, and fall asleep.

With my left hand, I checked the status of my clothing.

Panties, check.

Wife beater t-shirt, check.

Either Lee didn’t ravish my drunken self or he dressed me when he was done. I figured it was the former.

My left cheekbone felt tight and there was a dull ache that, without sake working its way through my system, I could now actually feel.

I quickly strategized my next twenty minutes as best as I could without the aid of caffeine.

I needed to get away from Lee without waking him, call a taxi and go home.

Fine, good, sounded like a plan.

I inched forward, trying to be sneaky.

And failing.

“Un-unh,” Lee mumbled behind me, his arm tightening.

Foiled at the first hurdle.

I tried again using yesterday’s successful excuse for escape.

“I need to make coffee.”

Lee’s arm went away, but the weight of his body was enough to keep me where I was. He slid further onto me, bent and I felt his lips touch my shoulder at the same time I felt his hand travel up the side of the thigh of my crooked leg, stopping at my hip.

“You can have coffee after,” he said in my ear.

Every muscle in my body tensed even as my stomach melted.

“After what?”

His hand moved forward from my hip and his fingers traced the waistband of my underwear just below my navel.

“This is gonna happen,” he said and I didn’t need him to explain what “this” meant. Then he said, “Now.”

Holy shit.