“And you’re deflecting.” A feral grin decorates his face.
We stand there, breathing the same stupid air, charged and crackling and stupid.
Then he leans in, just enough that his breath brushes my cheek, his voice a wicked slide down my spine. “You think I don’t know you want me to touch you?”
My knees actually go weak.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate how much I want him.
I lift my chin, refusing to back up even though my heartbeat is turning into a damn drum solo. “You don’t know anything about what I want.”
Another smirk. Slower this time. Meaner. Hungrier. “No?” He squints, taking another step, eliminating any space that was between us as he props a hand on the steel behind my head. I can almost taste the bourbon on his lips. “Then tell me I’m wrong.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. He sees the slip and he devours it, a sneer lifting one side of his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice a sinful rumble. “Didn’t think so.”
For a terrifying, breathless second, we just stand there. Locked. Balanced on a knife edge neither of us should be anywhere near. His eyes drop to my lips for two long seconds, then he steps back on a chuckle, breaking whatever spell we slipped into. “Night, camera girl.”
It’s soft. Too soft. Too knowing. He walks past me, heading toward the buses. His shoulder brushes mine. It’s not by accident. Not even a little.
I exhale shakily, my body molten and furious and alive. He doesn’t look back. I stare after him anyway. And for the first time, I know with absolute certainty that Dean Ross is going to ruin me.
And God help me, I might be willing to let him.
Chapter Nine
Dean
Zombie
YUNGBLUD
The first thing I feel when I wake up is that my tongue feels swollen to three times its normal size because it’s so dry. The second thing is shame. My head throbs in time with the bus generator and my mouth tastes like bourbon and bad decisions. My mattress is doing that weird vibration thing that means Mikey’s already up and playing some game on his phone in the bunk below mine with the sound on. I squeeze my eyes tighter and rewind last night.
The show. The high. Her in the corner, still glowing, laptop on her knees. Lily’s voice, Hayden’s quiet, “He’ll come around.” The walk back to the buses. Shots with some of the crew. The bourbon warm in my veins. Sadie’s boots on asphalt.
Her face when I leaned in and said way too much. You think I don’t know you want me to touch you? I wince and scrub a hand over my eyes. “Fuck.”
“What was that?” Mikey calls, voice muffled by the mattress between us.
“Nothing,” I grumble.
“Sounded like regret,” he chirps and I swear it’s with glee.
“Trust me, if regret made a sound, you’d need noise-cancelling headphones.”
He laughs, obnoxiously bright for this hour. “You get lucky last night?”
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling above me. “No.”
“Ah,” he concludes. “So that’s the problem.”
I don’t answer. Because that’s not even close to the problem. The fact that I didn’t touch her when I wanted to? That’s the part that scares me more than the fact that I wanted to at all.
I don’t hesitate. Never have. The whole one-and-done reputation didn’t build itself. There has never been a time when if I wanted someone, it was as simple as a look, a smile, a glance over my shoulder. Easy. Shallow. Clean. Nothing messy about that.
