The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(57)

I started off again, but he called, “I need some money to start back in again. Damn, kid, don’t you f*cking walk away from me. You’ll regret it.”

Without even glancing back, I spoke to Remy out the side of my mouth when he immediately moved to my side. “See, I told he wasn’t out to kill me.”

“Oh yeah, sure; that you’ll regret this wasn’t threatening at all.”

I laughed. “Relax, man. I’m sure that’s the last time I’ll ever see or hear from him.”

“I think you’re wrong, but whatever.”

With a glance his way, I asked, “Are you really carrying a weapon? What the hell are you packing in your pocket?” I just couldn’t picture him tucking a gun in his luggage between his conditioner and hair gel.

So when he reluctantly answered, “Mace and a whistle,” I threw my head back and laughed.

Gripping his shoulder, I had to admit, “Man, you crack me up.”

“Hmm. Well, looky there,” he muttered, falling to a stop before we reached our table. “Your harem of sluts was kind enough to wait for you.”

His bitter tone only made me smile. “What? Jealous because there’s no dude in the group for you?”

He glowered at me. “Mmm hmm. Yes, that must be it.”

When I shrugged and started back to the table again, he caught my forearm. “I can’t stick around. I’m going to see if I can catch a cab and get a ride back to the hotel. Are you sure your dad won’t come back? I could leave my mace and whistle with you.”

I flipped him off. “I think I can manage without a freaking rape-prevention whistle.”

He shook his head and eyed the women watching and waiting for us to return. “I don’t know, Hart. That one looks like she’s ready to tear your clothes off any second, whether you’re willing or not.”

With a chuckle, I shoved him away. “Whatever. Get lost already. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

A miserable expression crossed his face, but then he nodded and turned away. I watched him walk off for a second, then I shook my head and turned back to the women.





Fine, yes, I admit it. Seeing that skank crawling all over Asher had turned me into an evil jealous troll bitch. But I couldn’t help it. She just kept touching him. And I wanted to touch him.

It was no fair. I couldn’t even freaking put my bid in, since I was pretending to be a dude and all.

Unable to watch her maul him a second longer, I had hightailed it out of there and slumped back to the hotel, miserable, when I should’ve been pumped and happy. We had rocked that performance. It’d been awesome, right up until that slut had crawled into Asher’s lap, and he’d actually wrapped his arm around her waist. Had me so worked up I couldn’t even worry about his dad showing up.

Ugh.

I tried not to wonder what would’ve happened if I’d been in full girl mode, decked out in my makeup and tiny black dress. Could I have competed for his attention, stolen him away from lap slut?

And why did it even matter? I was never going to get that chance. I’d shot myself in the foot the moment I’d stepped into the auditioning room as Sticks.

After taking an extra-long shower, then cleaning and blow-drying my sweaty, sticky mask, I put it back on because I had no idea when Asher planned on returning. I just knew I couldn’t sleep with all my dark long hair spilling out over the sheet.

I reluctantly crawled into bed, flipped off my nightlight, and then tossed and turned for what felt like forever, wondering just what he was doing with that other girl, where he was touching her, where she was kissing him, how many clothes were being removed.

Damn. I punched my pillow. This was stupid. I was his bandmate. That was all. He could do whatever he pleased with whomever he pleased. It shouldn’t be any of my business or concern.

So why the hell did I want to cry so badly?

Finally, what felt like hours later, my consciousness dragged me into a fitful sleep. It felt as if I’d barely drifted off when I was jerked awake by the opening of my room door.

Hoping Asher was alone and hadn’t brought his friend back with him, I froze, even tried to stop breathing.

Oh, Dios. What if he had brought her back, though? Would I have to lie here and pretend to sleep while he screwed some other woman only a few feet away?

No way in hell could I handle that.

My face itched like crazy inside my mask, but I refrained from scratching or moving a muscle as quiet footsteps—just one pair, whew—shuffled across the floor. Mattress springs shifted behind me as Asher sat on his bed.

My body instantly responded, heating uncontrollably inside my already warm disguise. But then the reek of feminine perfume hit me and I went cold. He’d taken that other girl home then. The blonde.

I really hated that blonde.

Asher let out a long, tired sigh, and I could picture him rubbing his weary face, maybe running his talented fingers through his silky dark hair. Hair I’d had my fingers in and gotten to touch and play with, hair that I wanted to experience again.

He stood. The soft swish of clothing told me he was undressing.

Oh, man. My internal thermometer soared, spiking off the charts with a horny heat.

I shouldn’t look. I shouldn’t look. I totally shouldn’t look.

I really was being a good girl and not looking, but then he walked into the bathroom, and in order to get there, he had to pass my bed and right where I was staring wide-eyed into the darkened room...well, mostly darkened until he turned on the bathroom light and gifted me with a view of his perfectly formed bare ass.