The whole time he sang, and the people gathered, Mach stared right at Darla. The words may have been written for Courtney, but for him they were all Darla.
Chapter Eighteen
DARLA
Mach serenadingDarla on Hollywood Boulevard like he was a street performer was the single most sexy thing she’d ever experienced in her life. He and Strummer exchanged numbers so they could jam again someday, and he and Darla were off again. This time he took her back to the apartment, said he figured they’d order in.
"Italy or India?" he asked as soon as they were through the door.
"India."
"North or South?" he asked.
"South."
"On it," he said. "Indian food from the place south of here. Any special requests?"
"Nope," she said, because this was the best way to decide, she’d learned. Let the decision make itself.
Mach ambled off to make their dinner order, and Darla went to her bedroom to put on pants that didn’t require a button or constriction. When she got back to the living room, Mach stood there at the counter, apparently waiting for her. He’d opened a bottle of champagne she hadn’t seen there that morning.
The silence stretched between them like a rubber band. She wasn’t sure if it would break and they’d end up going their own directions, or it’d snap and pull them back together.
"Dinner will be about an hour," he said, his eyes warm and welcoming. "Figured this’ll get us by."
"Fantastic," she said, not moving because what was she supposed to do here? Go to him? Go to the champagne? Go to the sofa and sit?
"Are you comin’ over here or what?" he asked, his eyes smoldering and hand reaching for her.
She went right over there to him.
He pulled her against his chest, holding her head there to his heart like she was special. Then his hand totally went to her ass.
"Celebrating something?" She eyed the bottle of champagne.
"We can celebrate whatever we want. What do you want to celebrate tonight?" he asked, his voice rough.
"You making me come harder than I’ve ever come in my life last night," she said without even filtering it a little.
He laughed. Straight up, he laughed. Then he pulled her closer. "What am I gonna do with you?"
"I can think of a couple things." That came out entirely more suggestive than she’d planned.
She’d only been thinking that they could go to his bedroom, or her bedroom, or they could drink the champagne and make out. But the way the words sounded? Well, they sounded more creative than that. A promise she was pretty certain she couldn’t live up to.
The rubber band didn’t break. No, instead, it pulled them together, and he pulled her to the sofa. She straddled his lap, because she could, and that’s where he’d settled her.
"Spend tonight with me?" she whispered against his mouth, nipping at his lips. Using the same words he’d used on her the night at Brek’s Bar.
"Only if you tell me what you want me to do." He stared at her lips.
Was that a dare? Because it sorta felt like a dare.
"Table or wall?" she asked, throwing his game right back at him.
"Wall," he said, and his pupils dilated even more.
"Have you ever had sex against a wall?" she asked. Then she didn’t wait for him to answer because she didn’t really want to know. "I haven’t."
