Rogue (Dead Man's Ink, #2)(3)
“Thank you. If you go back downstairs and see a really stressed out looking violinist, will you let him know I won’t be a second?”
I lean against the wall, pulling roughly at my tie. “You’re one of the musicians, then?”
Her cheeks turn crimson. “Yes. I’m…the cellist.”
I have a very witty response lined up about her liking a solid piece of wood between her legs, but I keep my mouth shut. She’s not the sort of girl you use that kind of innuendo on. She is the kind of girl you tread carefully with. I’m not one for the softly, softly approach, though. There’s a fine line between terrifying a woman like this and getting her so wound up that she’s trembling at the knees.
“You’re very beautiful. Do you know that?”
She swallows. “I—thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“Do you think I’m attractive?”
“What?”
“Do you think I’m attractive?”
“Well, that’s not a question people normally ask you five seconds after meeting,” she says, laughing softly.
“Maybe not. But you’re here, working, and I’m here, suffering, and it seems to me that both of us are going to be leaving this place soon. We’re probably never going to see each other again. So we don’t have much time to waste. If you don’t think I’m attractive, I’ll happily be a gentleman and go back downstairs. Is that what you want?”
She looks at me like I just told her aliens are invading and the planet is about to be blown to smithereens. Her mouth opens and then closes twice. “I—”
“Don’t worry, little cellist. I’ll go find your stressed violinist and tell him you’ll be down in a second.” I make to leave, but she places a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
“Of course I think you’re hot,” she says quietly. “You’re, like, a young, sexy James Bond in that suit. And your eyes are…” She shakes her head, apparently not sure how to finish that sentence. “Maybe I do want you to be here when I come out of the bathroom. Is that bad?”
Leaning down so that my mouth’s mere inches away from hers, I stare at her lips, knowing she wants me to kiss her. Knowing she wants me to do any number of very bad things to her. “Go use the bathroom. When you come out, I’ll show you just how bad we can be together.”
Her breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t change her mind. She does as she’s told and uses the bathroom, and when she comes out I make good on my words.
At the precise moment Laura bursts into the room calling out my name, I have my tongue down the little cellist’s throat, her dress pulled down to her waist exposing her breasts, and two of my fingers inside her wet *.
Laura screeches to a halt, a horrified look spreading across her face. “Jesus, Jamie.”
“Oh my god.” The little cellist scrambles back into her clothing, hanging her head as she wriggles away from me. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell her, but she’s moving so frantically that she can’t hear me. Laura watches her hurry out of the room with her mouth hanging open like a swinging trapdoor. I’m still completely dressed, and thanks to Laura’s untimely entrance my hard-on has completely vanished, too. “Perfect, Lore. Just f*cking perfect. Have you forgotten how to knock?”
“Are you kidding me?” She throws her hands up in the air, staring at me in disbelief. “You’re the one up here finger f*cking some twenty-one-year old, and you’re giving me shit?”
It’s kind of hilarious to hear Laura say finger f*cking, but I manage to keep the smile from my face. “What’s wrong? You never been caught in flagrante before, Laura Preston? Never been caught with your panties down?”
“No!” She looks like she’s lost for a second, and then she’s kicking off her monstrous golden skyscraper heels and she’s, shit, she’s throwing them at me.
The first heel misses me by a mile. The second one buzzes my head and hits the huge gilt-framed mirror hanging on the wall behind me, smashing the glass into a million tiny pieces. “What the f*ck, Laura?”
“You! I can’t…” She clasps her hand over her mouth and that’s when I notice her eyes are filled with tears. “I can’t f*cking believe you,” she whispers.
Oh, crap. This is not how someone reacts to busting their friend doing something questionable. This is not how they react at all. I cross the room, holding up my hands as I approach her, stooping slightly so I can look her in the eye. “Hey. Hey. I’m really f*cking confused. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, or should I go get Cade?”
“Don’t you dare go and f*cking get Cade,” she hisses. “You and Cade, joined at the hip, twenty-four f*cking seven. You and Cade vanishing off to f*cking Afghanistan, leaving me here on my own. I waited here for you for four goddamn years, Jamie. Four years of waking up every single night in a cold sweat, wondering which one of you was going to die first. And then you come home and hardly even…hardly even look at me and…”
Oh.
Fuck.
Seriously?
Her hair, perfectly pinned back when she came charging into the room, has now come loose and is tumbling into her face like it used to when she was a little girl. I reach out, tucking it behind her ear. “Laura—”