Sweet Ache

The admission surprises me. So while I’ve been cyberstalking him, he’s been finding out more about what, my brother or my family? At least I know that he’s curious enough to look.

“Well, if you ever want to check out a race …”

“Thanks.” Hawke’s eyes shift ever so subtly to mine. “And you are?”

“Qui—”

“Oh! I’m so rude. Sorry. This is Quinlan Westin.” Luke shakes his head and places his hand on my back again, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hawke reaches out to shake my hand, eyes lingering and hands held a beat longer than needed. “Hi, Quinlan,” he says, rolling my name over his tongue. “Unique name. So you’re into racers over rockers huh?” He raises his eyebrows in challenge causing me to shift uncomfortably but ready to play the game.

“It takes quite a lot to impress me.” It’s the only answer I can think of and I mean it as a warning, to back off in front of Luke, but all I get in response is that arrogant raise of an eyebrow.

He flashes me that lightning-quick grin. “I assure you rockers know how to leave their mark with more than just their music.” He lifts his eyes to mine, reinforcing the innuendo in case I didn’t catch it. A moment of awkward silence passes between the three of us.

“Hey, Luke,” Hawke says, shifting gears and patting him on the shoulder as I try to figure out what kind of game he’s playing now. “We’re about to go to an after party at a club—the bands and a few others—do you guys want to come along?”

The devil inside me sags in respite knowing I’ve just been given the door to walk through to claim the pleasurable promise Hawkin threatened in the bathroom, while the angel cringes knowing if Luke accepts, he’s walking us into a lion’s den of disappointment that I don’t want to be the culprit of.

And yet I don’t think there’s any way to prevent either thing from happening.

“No way! Really?” Luke’s fingers tighten on my hip, and my eyes immediately flash to see if Hawkin notices. He doesn’t. He’s too busy whipping out his testosterone-laced gauntlet to throw down at Luke’s feet.

“Yep,” he says. “Axe, my security, will get you all the info. I’ve got to finish up here.” He lifts his chin, indicating the next set of people in line to greet him. “We’ll see you there though.”

“Definitely,” Luke says.

Hawkin starts to walk away and I’m far from oblivious to the look shared between Hawke and Vince before he turns back and looks at the both of us again, eyes shifting back and forth between us. “So you guys are a couple, right?”

“First date,” Luke says proudly.

Hawke nods his head slowly as if he’s mulling something over. “Well, you should definitely head on over to the club, have some drinks, relax, and party a bit, and you just might win her over.” Hawke flashes a knowing grin at Luke that I sense means something more.

“Thanks man, we will.”

Hawke chuckles as he turns his back to walk away, and I swear I hear him say, “Then again you might just lose her to a rock star.”

“What?” Obviously Luke hears it too. His body stiffens beside me and I can tell by the condescending tilt of Hawke’s head as he looks back at us that he meant every word he said.

“Sorry man, we’re big on bets here within the band,” Hawke says, waving over to Vince and Gizmo before turning back to us. “Making them is just kind of a habit. No harm, no foul.”

So why am I screaming foul?

Chapter 13

HAWKIN

The bass thumps in my chest, a constant drum of vibration, and out of habit I tap my fingers on the glass in my hand like I do my mic on stage. I glance around to where dark lights reflect off glass-littered tables, and take in the fact that there’s enough talent between the four bands partying here to sell out any house.

Then I lock eyes with Jake, lead singer of the Mighty Storm, and tip my beer to him. He nods with a slow smile and by the look on his face, alcohol is his friend tonight. He relaxes with one arm around his wife and the other thrumming the beat on his leg. Like minds.

The song switches on the floor below, one that has a wicked beat, and I sink back into the cushion behind me, closing my eyes for a moment. The couch is comfortable enough but it’s not like I’d want to pass out on it—no, not here with the rumors of what happens on the VIP floor of Scandalous—although I’m well on my way to doing just that.

Especially because she’s not here. But why should she be? Why would she choose me over him? Yeah, I talk a good fucking game but when it comes right down to it, he can offer her so many things that I can’t.

Sex I can do—I’ve certainly imagined long, sweat-inducing sessions of our bodies engaged every which way. Love on the other hand—the stability, the longevity—no fucking way.

So why do I keep looking at the stairway for her?

Talk about an unexpected surprise to look up from the quick-and-easy twins who I had a unique and interesting time with last month to find Quinlan standing there in the meet and greet room. With his arm around her.

And his lips on hers.

Her fucking perfect tits in that tight tank top and her sexy as hell legs, bare and long, beneath the short skirt that begged for me to yank it up around her waist while I discovered her perfection beneath. Goddamn. Talk about wanting to go over there and rip his hands off her, let him know where things stand between us, but shit, a make-out session on the porch and a one-sided phone call doesn’t make her mine.