Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(29)
“Of course you stink. You’re dripping sweat.”
Amused gaze never leaving me, he leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, and if you were so overwhelmed by these supposed feelings of yours for me, you wouldn’t care. You’d still want me all over you. In fact, most women would want me more.”
My mind basically exploded, trying to encompass what having him all over me might entail. No, no, no, bad thoughts, horrible, wrong carnal thoughts. “That so?”
“Yeah. Women that are into me, they don’t mind a bit of sweat. What do you think happens after we’ve been in bed for hours? Sweat, that’s what. And those other women, they don’t make all those sarcastic comments like you do either. They sure as f*ck don’t insult me every two minutes.” He gave me a slow looking over. It wasn’t appreciative. “I mean, I thought all the weird looks were about what happened in Idaho. Always kind of figured you were into *. Thought it was a damn shame, frankly, so there you go.”
How many years would I get for throttling him? That was the question. “Wait. Are you actually suggesting that any woman who doesn’t kiss your ass must therefore be gay?”
He shrugged.
“And you wonder why I must insult you.”
“You doing what needs to be done isn’t a problem, Lena. You’re not going to have any issues telling me no.”
Oblivious to my incredulity, the man cracked his neck, giving me another bored look. “Whatever the real deal is here, sort it out. I get that you’re embarrassed, but you’ll just have to get over it. Okay?”
I made no promises. But then again, I couldn’t do much of anything just then. If I opened my mouth to speak, I highly doubted I’d be able to form words.
“Okay. We’re done,” Jimmy said, strolling from the room like he didn’t have a care in the world.
CHAPTER SIX
The knock came on my bedroom door just before midnight.
After our “talk,” we’d pretty much gone back to normal. Jimmy exercised morning and afternoon, usually with at least one of the guys along. Because I wasn’t much of a sobriety counselor, and being Jimmy’s shadow got boring after a while, I’d taken on the role of being his assistant also. I’d check emails, occasionally reading aloud the parts he needed to know. I’d chat with Ev (David’s wife and assistant), whoever the latest poor unfortunate in Adrian, the band manager’s, office happened to be, and the PR person. There’s a lot involved in keeping a rock star organized. These days, I also liaised with the builders and techie types responsible for turning part of the basement into a state-of-the-art studio. With that project nearing completion the guys had started doing their practice and writing sessions here as opposed to at David’s. More room.
All in all, we kept busy.
We inhabited the same house and often the same room, but didn’t necessarily talk much. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable but companionable, I’d long since gotten used to it. Usually, after a while, Jimmy would put on some music. Today on the stereo was The Dead Weather, which was fitting, because outside the weather grew steadily worse. Within, however, we were our own peaceful enough world. There’d been some curious side-eyes now and then, but I’d determinedly ignored them all.
He knocked again on my bedroom door. Then, not bothering to wait for permission, charged on in. “Been thinking.”
“I didn’t say you could enter.” I studied him over the top of my reading glasses, lying in the middle of my big bed propped up by no less than three cushions. Comfort mattered.
“It’s my house. Nice jammies. Ducks this time, huh? Cool.” He cast an amused eye over my flannel ensemble, because of course, his highness still looked slick (designer jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt that fit him to perfection) no matter the hour. Sweaty from a run was as mussed as the man ever got. Even then, his dark damp hair appeared to have been styled by the wanton fingers of lingerie model as opposed to the elements.
“You’re just jealous of my awesome stylin’.” I clutched my e-reader to my chest, doing my best to hide my happy nipples. “I bet you sleep in Armani or something, don’t you? Prada, maybe?”
He chuckled.
“What do you want, Jimmy?”
“Never been in here before.”
“You came in here the night you carried me up to bed after I’d crashed on the couch,” I reminded him.
“It was nearly four in the morning. Didn’t stop to look around.” He took a slow tour of the room, casting an eye over my belongings. It could be said I have tidiness issues when it comes to my personal space, clothes lay abandoned on the chair, shoes beneath it. In my bathroom, makeup, hair junk, and feminine hygiene products decorated the grey marble countertop. I’d gotten overly comfortable since moving in here and expanded upon my belongings. The last couple of years, I’d lived a minimal existence. It fit in with all the moving around. The surplus of stuff would make my eventual packing up and moving on a pain.
Jimmy’s brows bunched. “Don’t you let the cleaners in?”
“Of course I do.”
“They come twice a week, Lena. How the hell do you manage to make a mess again so fast?”
“It’s a gift. I don’t leave my things around the rest of the house. This is my personal space and therefore none of your business. Did you barge in here for a reason?”