There's Wild, Then There's You
Page 20
“In that case, I’ll take the other one. I think I like the colors in there better.”
“Whatever makes you feel good,” I reply. I’m a fraction of a second away from giving in to my urge to touch her when a knock sounds at the door.
With a sigh of frustration, I clench my fingers into fists. Rather than putting my hands on Violet, like I was about to, I move to open the door.
It’s the bellhop, bringing our two bags. “Where would you like them, sir?”
“I’ll take this one,” I state, lifting my duffel from the hook of his fingers. “The other one goes in there,” I explain, tipping my head toward the first bedroom.
He nods, taking Violet’s bag into the room she chose. I wait for him to reemerge so that I can tip him and send him on his way.
“Thank you, sir,” he says with a nod as he accepts my folded bill. I nod in return and shut the door behind him.
The unwelcome interruption was exactly what I needed to get my head back in the right place.
I glance at my watch and turn to Violet.
“I guess it’s about time for me to leave you to get ready. We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we need to head downstairs.”
I don’t know if Violet’s eyes actually show me that she’s disappointed, too, or if it’s just my imagination. “I guess I need to head for the shower then,” she says, swinging her arms like she’s waiting on something.
I can’t resist one more poke. “Unless you need some help in there. I’d gladly put them off for a couple of hours if your back needs washing.”
Violet’s smile is slow and sexy as hell. “I think I can manage this one by myself.”
She keeps her eyes on mine as she backs away. In my head, her expression is filling in what was left unsaid.
But maybe later.
Later can’t come soon enough.
THIRTY-ONE: Violet
It’s unnerving, knowing that Jet is just a few feet away while I’m standing under the spray of warm water, completely na**d. Every inch of my skin is super sensitive. It’s not hard for me to close my eyes and imagine his soapy hands on me, gliding smoothly all over my body. In fact, I’m so involved in those thoughts as I wash with my own lathered hands that I jump guiltily when Jet knocks at the bathroom door.
“Violet, are you all right in there?”
Even behind a closed door where no one can see me, I feel the blush sting my cheeks. “Yes. I’m nearly done.”
“Okay, well they just called and want me to meet them in the hotel bar for a drink first. Do you mind just coming down there when you’re ready?”
“No, not at all. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’m sure we’ll just talk business until then.”
“Okay. Good luck!”
“Thanks,” he replies, and then I hear nothing but silence.
Even though I didn’t actually see him, it makes going back to my bathing all the more disconcerting. I know I can’t linger much longer, though. I need to be ready so they don’t have to wait on me.
Quickly finishing up my shower, I get out and towel off before smearing on a nice, thick coat of scented lotion. After I dress, I blow out my hair and heat up the curling iron as I put on my makeup. Twenty-two minutes later, I’m surveying my reflection, hoping that I made all the right choices for this thing. I’m technically here to support Jet, so I need to make a good impression on the execs, but what feels more important at the moment is looking nice for him. And that should worry me.
I drop a lipstick, a compact, some mints, and my room key into a clutch that matches my dress and head for the elevator. Once in the lobby, I glance left and right, looking for the bar. The lobby bends around a corner on both sides, so it’s impossible for me to tell in which direction my destination lies. I take a few steps forward, craning my neck to see beyond the curve. It’s as I’m straightening that my eyes pass the front desk and I notice that the young man behind the counter is watching me. I smile politely and he does the same. Then, oddly, he points to his right, my left. I feel myself frown in confusion, and he points again. I look to my left, wondering what he’s indicating. Is someone looking for me?
I see no familiar faces, so I look back to the clerk. He motions me over to him. Reluctantly, I go.
“The bar is that way,” he says, pointing to his right again.
“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”
His smile gets wider. “The gentleman that came down a little while ago told me that a beautiful woman might need directions to the bar.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“He told me I’d know you when I saw you. And he was right.”
His eyes are glowing with masculine appreciation. My face warms happily as I nod. “Well, thank you very much.” I start to walk off, but before I do, I turn to add, “Thank you for the directions, too.”
The clerk winks at me and I smile. I’m pretty sure he’s watching me walk away. This couldn’t have happened at a better time, of course. My confidence is nicely boosted as I make my way into the bar.
I stop just inside the wide doorway and scan the faces for Jet’s handsome one. He’s easy to spot, as he’s by far the most gorgeous man in the room. His eyes flicker up and stop on me just as I find him, and he stands.
My breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure if I’m breathless from seeing him in the black suit, cut perfectly to hug his wide shoulders and trim waist, or if I’m breathless from the way he’s looking at me.
His eyes travel slowly down my body, so slowly I feel the heat of them as though they were his hands instead. I try to move toward him as naturally as I can, willing my feet not to tangle from his heated perusal.
When I stop at the table, Jet continues to watch me. Wordlessly. There’s absolute silence around us, and, for a few seconds, it’s easy to forget that we aren’t the only two people in the room. In the world.
THIRTY-TWO: Jet
I’ve thought Violet was hot from the first time I ever laid eyes on her, but I swear to God she gets hotter every time I see her. And tonight? She makes me ache. I would almost walk away from this meeting if it meant taking her back up to our room and licking every square inch of that beautiful skin.
I move to pull out the chair next to mine, indicating with a nod that it’s for her. She rounds the table and stops in front of me, looking up into my eyes. Her lips are curved in the barest hint of a smile. I bend to whisper into her ear, “You look amazing.”
And she does. She picked the perfect dress. Not just for here, but for her. It’s a form-fitting sparkly silver dress that clasps over one shoulder and stops about midthigh. Every lush curve is highlighted without looking trashy, and the color makes her eyes look like pewter. It doesn’t hurt that her lips are a dark, suckable red and her smooth skin has a sheen to it that makes my fingers itch to touch it.
I push her chair in when she’s seated then take my place beside her.
“So, this must be your associate, Violet,” Rand says from across the table. As hard as it is to tear my eyes away from Violet, I do, looking to Rand to reply to him. But he continues before I can, addressing Violet instead. “Jet didn’t tell us what beautiful people he has on his team.”
The big, toothy smile that Rand gives Violet pisses me off, but I figure he’s trying to schmooze. To a large degree, that’s what some of these guys do—they kiss ass. I’m not sure which act throws gasoline on my temper—the next comment he makes or the way he’s looking at Violet like he was wishing she was on the menu—but one of them definitely does. It’s all I can do not to stick my foot in his ass and stomp the shit out of him.
“I thought tonight was going to be all business and no pleasure, but I can see that there is plenty of pleasure to be had. Thank you for coming, Violet.”
Violet smiles prettily. “Thank you. And you are . . . ?”
“Randall Gregory, but I’d love it if you called me Rand.”
Violet nods. “It’s nice to meet you, Rand.”
I don’t think she’s flirting with him. She’s just being polite and charming and gorgeous because she can’t help it. But still, it aggravates the hell out of me.
Violet’s hand is resting at the edge of the table, so I reach over to take it. “I’m glad she could come. I can’t imagine being here without her.”
Violet turns a dazzling smile on me, which makes me feel a little better until Rand starts talking again and she looks back at him. It’s like her attention feels warm and the minute she turns it elsewhere, I feel nothing but cold air and the sting of jealousy.
“We know what Jet does, but we know nothing about what a stunning woman such as yourself does with her time. Tell me, Violet, do you model? Because I have a friend who is always on the lookout for talent. And he knows I have a great . . . eye.”
It’s all I can do to hold my tongue. What the hell kind of an as**ole would hit on Violet when she’s clearly with me?
“Oh gosh no! I’m too short to model, but I appreciate the compliment,” Violet replies.
“Even without the height, your face and your figure are so beautiful, so perfectly proportioned, any man in his right mind would snatch you up. I mean any business,” he says with a wink and a laugh.
Violet laughs, too, and it kills me to see her cheeks bloom with color. It eats at me that anyone else can make her blush, much less this useless douche.
“Violet is a social worker. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” I interrupt, regaining Violet’s attention and hoping that Rand will shut his mouth before I have to shut it for him. No doubt that would totally blow my chance of giving my songs a shot at the big time. I raise her hand to my lips, brushing them over her knuckles.
Her eyes take on a sharp, confused look that I ignore. She might not get what’s going on, but I sure as hell do. And I don’t like it one bit.
“Well, it’s our pleasure to have you, Violet. Can I offer you a drink or an appetizer?” Paul, the most important of the three execs, asks. I’m relieved to see him taking over the conversation.
“Thank you,” Violet says, reaching for a chicken firecracker to put on her bread plate. “I’d love a ginger ale.”
Paul nods, signaling the waitress who shows up within seconds, taking Violet’s drink order and returning with the soda a short time later.
I feel better about everything as the night wears on. Rand keeps his comments to himself, although it chaps my ass every time I look at him and he’s staring at Violet or smiling at her, trying to engage her. For the most part, though, the conversation stays firmly in the realm of business.
At one point, I see him at it again so I lean in closer to Violet, draping my arm over the back of her chair as I give Rand my biggest smile, all but daring him to take it one step further. He returns my tight smile and cocks one eyebrow at me. A challenge?
If it is, all I can say is that he’s on!
I nod at him, brushing my fingertips over Violet’s silky shoulder. I see Rand’s lips thin, and I have to fight the urge not to laugh in his smug face.
After Violet finishes her drink, when I assumed we’d be heading to the “private” room, Paul surprises me with his suggestion. “Since we’re all pretty comfortable, why don’t you just sing us a couple of your songs right here, Jet?”
I glance around the table, wondering if this was the plan all along, like a test. But I quickly discard the notion. There’s no reason for them to test me. This is about my songs, not about my ability to perform.
For that reason, I agree without hesitation. Not only do I not give a shit where they want me to sing, but at this point, I want to get this over with so I can get Violet the hell away from Rand.
I scoot back my chair and grab my guitar from under the table. I look around and see that there’s a booth behind us that’s empty. I get up and put my guitar case onto the table, take out my instrument, and then slide the case onto one of the padded seats. Turning to face Violet and the Kick execs, I lean against the edge of the table and pick out a few notes as I tune my guitar.
I sing “Every Time I Close My Eyes” first, a song I wrote three years ago. I believed in it then, but now? Now I love it even more. It takes on a whole new meaning since I met Violet. Just like the song suggests, she has gotten under my skin.
She didn’t do it on purpose, of course. She didn’t plan for me to need her like I do—to need to feel her body beneath mine, to need to taste her soft recesses, to need to be inside her more and more with every day that passes. It’s not her fault that I see her face every time I close my eyes. And it won’t be her fault when I dip my tongue into that hollow at the base of her throat tonight, and then lick every sensitive spot below it before the break of dawn. It’s just something I have to do now, consequences be damned.
When I finish it, Paul claps. “One more, Jet. Let’s hear something new and fresh.”
I had hoped to do a few and end with “Drowning,” but it looks like I won’t get that chance. I clear my throat and strum the strings, feeling the music all the way into my soul, just like I did when I wrote it.
And when I first sang it.
To Violet.
I look up to find her eyes on me. It’s as easy to sing it to her this time as it was the last. It comes to me like I’ve sang it a thousand times, the notes and the words as familiar to me as songs I’ve known for years. She watches me the whole time, never taking her eyes off of me. I know this because I never take my eyes off of her.
When I pick out the final three notes, letting the last one hang in the air until it fades completely, there’s absolute silence in the bar. For a few seconds, it’s like the world is breathing it in—my music, my words, my soul.
“Whatever makes you feel good,” I reply. I’m a fraction of a second away from giving in to my urge to touch her when a knock sounds at the door.
With a sigh of frustration, I clench my fingers into fists. Rather than putting my hands on Violet, like I was about to, I move to open the door.
It’s the bellhop, bringing our two bags. “Where would you like them, sir?”
“I’ll take this one,” I state, lifting my duffel from the hook of his fingers. “The other one goes in there,” I explain, tipping my head toward the first bedroom.
He nods, taking Violet’s bag into the room she chose. I wait for him to reemerge so that I can tip him and send him on his way.
“Thank you, sir,” he says with a nod as he accepts my folded bill. I nod in return and shut the door behind him.
The unwelcome interruption was exactly what I needed to get my head back in the right place.
I glance at my watch and turn to Violet.
“I guess it’s about time for me to leave you to get ready. We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we need to head downstairs.”
I don’t know if Violet’s eyes actually show me that she’s disappointed, too, or if it’s just my imagination. “I guess I need to head for the shower then,” she says, swinging her arms like she’s waiting on something.
I can’t resist one more poke. “Unless you need some help in there. I’d gladly put them off for a couple of hours if your back needs washing.”
Violet’s smile is slow and sexy as hell. “I think I can manage this one by myself.”
She keeps her eyes on mine as she backs away. In my head, her expression is filling in what was left unsaid.
But maybe later.
Later can’t come soon enough.
THIRTY-ONE: Violet
It’s unnerving, knowing that Jet is just a few feet away while I’m standing under the spray of warm water, completely na**d. Every inch of my skin is super sensitive. It’s not hard for me to close my eyes and imagine his soapy hands on me, gliding smoothly all over my body. In fact, I’m so involved in those thoughts as I wash with my own lathered hands that I jump guiltily when Jet knocks at the bathroom door.
“Violet, are you all right in there?”
Even behind a closed door where no one can see me, I feel the blush sting my cheeks. “Yes. I’m nearly done.”
“Okay, well they just called and want me to meet them in the hotel bar for a drink first. Do you mind just coming down there when you’re ready?”
“No, not at all. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’m sure we’ll just talk business until then.”
“Okay. Good luck!”
“Thanks,” he replies, and then I hear nothing but silence.
Even though I didn’t actually see him, it makes going back to my bathing all the more disconcerting. I know I can’t linger much longer, though. I need to be ready so they don’t have to wait on me.
Quickly finishing up my shower, I get out and towel off before smearing on a nice, thick coat of scented lotion. After I dress, I blow out my hair and heat up the curling iron as I put on my makeup. Twenty-two minutes later, I’m surveying my reflection, hoping that I made all the right choices for this thing. I’m technically here to support Jet, so I need to make a good impression on the execs, but what feels more important at the moment is looking nice for him. And that should worry me.
I drop a lipstick, a compact, some mints, and my room key into a clutch that matches my dress and head for the elevator. Once in the lobby, I glance left and right, looking for the bar. The lobby bends around a corner on both sides, so it’s impossible for me to tell in which direction my destination lies. I take a few steps forward, craning my neck to see beyond the curve. It’s as I’m straightening that my eyes pass the front desk and I notice that the young man behind the counter is watching me. I smile politely and he does the same. Then, oddly, he points to his right, my left. I feel myself frown in confusion, and he points again. I look to my left, wondering what he’s indicating. Is someone looking for me?
I see no familiar faces, so I look back to the clerk. He motions me over to him. Reluctantly, I go.
“The bar is that way,” he says, pointing to his right again.
“How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”
His smile gets wider. “The gentleman that came down a little while ago told me that a beautiful woman might need directions to the bar.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“He told me I’d know you when I saw you. And he was right.”
His eyes are glowing with masculine appreciation. My face warms happily as I nod. “Well, thank you very much.” I start to walk off, but before I do, I turn to add, “Thank you for the directions, too.”
The clerk winks at me and I smile. I’m pretty sure he’s watching me walk away. This couldn’t have happened at a better time, of course. My confidence is nicely boosted as I make my way into the bar.
I stop just inside the wide doorway and scan the faces for Jet’s handsome one. He’s easy to spot, as he’s by far the most gorgeous man in the room. His eyes flicker up and stop on me just as I find him, and he stands.
My breath catches in my throat. I’m not sure if I’m breathless from seeing him in the black suit, cut perfectly to hug his wide shoulders and trim waist, or if I’m breathless from the way he’s looking at me.
His eyes travel slowly down my body, so slowly I feel the heat of them as though they were his hands instead. I try to move toward him as naturally as I can, willing my feet not to tangle from his heated perusal.
When I stop at the table, Jet continues to watch me. Wordlessly. There’s absolute silence around us, and, for a few seconds, it’s easy to forget that we aren’t the only two people in the room. In the world.
THIRTY-TWO: Jet
I’ve thought Violet was hot from the first time I ever laid eyes on her, but I swear to God she gets hotter every time I see her. And tonight? She makes me ache. I would almost walk away from this meeting if it meant taking her back up to our room and licking every square inch of that beautiful skin.
I move to pull out the chair next to mine, indicating with a nod that it’s for her. She rounds the table and stops in front of me, looking up into my eyes. Her lips are curved in the barest hint of a smile. I bend to whisper into her ear, “You look amazing.”
And she does. She picked the perfect dress. Not just for here, but for her. It’s a form-fitting sparkly silver dress that clasps over one shoulder and stops about midthigh. Every lush curve is highlighted without looking trashy, and the color makes her eyes look like pewter. It doesn’t hurt that her lips are a dark, suckable red and her smooth skin has a sheen to it that makes my fingers itch to touch it.
I push her chair in when she’s seated then take my place beside her.
“So, this must be your associate, Violet,” Rand says from across the table. As hard as it is to tear my eyes away from Violet, I do, looking to Rand to reply to him. But he continues before I can, addressing Violet instead. “Jet didn’t tell us what beautiful people he has on his team.”
The big, toothy smile that Rand gives Violet pisses me off, but I figure he’s trying to schmooze. To a large degree, that’s what some of these guys do—they kiss ass. I’m not sure which act throws gasoline on my temper—the next comment he makes or the way he’s looking at Violet like he was wishing she was on the menu—but one of them definitely does. It’s all I can do not to stick my foot in his ass and stomp the shit out of him.
“I thought tonight was going to be all business and no pleasure, but I can see that there is plenty of pleasure to be had. Thank you for coming, Violet.”
Violet smiles prettily. “Thank you. And you are . . . ?”
“Randall Gregory, but I’d love it if you called me Rand.”
Violet nods. “It’s nice to meet you, Rand.”
I don’t think she’s flirting with him. She’s just being polite and charming and gorgeous because she can’t help it. But still, it aggravates the hell out of me.
Violet’s hand is resting at the edge of the table, so I reach over to take it. “I’m glad she could come. I can’t imagine being here without her.”
Violet turns a dazzling smile on me, which makes me feel a little better until Rand starts talking again and she looks back at him. It’s like her attention feels warm and the minute she turns it elsewhere, I feel nothing but cold air and the sting of jealousy.
“We know what Jet does, but we know nothing about what a stunning woman such as yourself does with her time. Tell me, Violet, do you model? Because I have a friend who is always on the lookout for talent. And he knows I have a great . . . eye.”
It’s all I can do to hold my tongue. What the hell kind of an as**ole would hit on Violet when she’s clearly with me?
“Oh gosh no! I’m too short to model, but I appreciate the compliment,” Violet replies.
“Even without the height, your face and your figure are so beautiful, so perfectly proportioned, any man in his right mind would snatch you up. I mean any business,” he says with a wink and a laugh.
Violet laughs, too, and it kills me to see her cheeks bloom with color. It eats at me that anyone else can make her blush, much less this useless douche.
“Violet is a social worker. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,” I interrupt, regaining Violet’s attention and hoping that Rand will shut his mouth before I have to shut it for him. No doubt that would totally blow my chance of giving my songs a shot at the big time. I raise her hand to my lips, brushing them over her knuckles.
Her eyes take on a sharp, confused look that I ignore. She might not get what’s going on, but I sure as hell do. And I don’t like it one bit.
“Well, it’s our pleasure to have you, Violet. Can I offer you a drink or an appetizer?” Paul, the most important of the three execs, asks. I’m relieved to see him taking over the conversation.
“Thank you,” Violet says, reaching for a chicken firecracker to put on her bread plate. “I’d love a ginger ale.”
Paul nods, signaling the waitress who shows up within seconds, taking Violet’s drink order and returning with the soda a short time later.
I feel better about everything as the night wears on. Rand keeps his comments to himself, although it chaps my ass every time I look at him and he’s staring at Violet or smiling at her, trying to engage her. For the most part, though, the conversation stays firmly in the realm of business.
At one point, I see him at it again so I lean in closer to Violet, draping my arm over the back of her chair as I give Rand my biggest smile, all but daring him to take it one step further. He returns my tight smile and cocks one eyebrow at me. A challenge?
If it is, all I can say is that he’s on!
I nod at him, brushing my fingertips over Violet’s silky shoulder. I see Rand’s lips thin, and I have to fight the urge not to laugh in his smug face.
After Violet finishes her drink, when I assumed we’d be heading to the “private” room, Paul surprises me with his suggestion. “Since we’re all pretty comfortable, why don’t you just sing us a couple of your songs right here, Jet?”
I glance around the table, wondering if this was the plan all along, like a test. But I quickly discard the notion. There’s no reason for them to test me. This is about my songs, not about my ability to perform.
For that reason, I agree without hesitation. Not only do I not give a shit where they want me to sing, but at this point, I want to get this over with so I can get Violet the hell away from Rand.
I scoot back my chair and grab my guitar from under the table. I look around and see that there’s a booth behind us that’s empty. I get up and put my guitar case onto the table, take out my instrument, and then slide the case onto one of the padded seats. Turning to face Violet and the Kick execs, I lean against the edge of the table and pick out a few notes as I tune my guitar.
I sing “Every Time I Close My Eyes” first, a song I wrote three years ago. I believed in it then, but now? Now I love it even more. It takes on a whole new meaning since I met Violet. Just like the song suggests, she has gotten under my skin.
She didn’t do it on purpose, of course. She didn’t plan for me to need her like I do—to need to feel her body beneath mine, to need to taste her soft recesses, to need to be inside her more and more with every day that passes. It’s not her fault that I see her face every time I close my eyes. And it won’t be her fault when I dip my tongue into that hollow at the base of her throat tonight, and then lick every sensitive spot below it before the break of dawn. It’s just something I have to do now, consequences be damned.
When I finish it, Paul claps. “One more, Jet. Let’s hear something new and fresh.”
I had hoped to do a few and end with “Drowning,” but it looks like I won’t get that chance. I clear my throat and strum the strings, feeling the music all the way into my soul, just like I did when I wrote it.
And when I first sang it.
To Violet.
I look up to find her eyes on me. It’s as easy to sing it to her this time as it was the last. It comes to me like I’ve sang it a thousand times, the notes and the words as familiar to me as songs I’ve known for years. She watches me the whole time, never taking her eyes off of me. I know this because I never take my eyes off of her.
When I pick out the final three notes, letting the last one hang in the air until it fades completely, there’s absolute silence in the bar. For a few seconds, it’s like the world is breathing it in—my music, my words, my soul.
