me, even in the dim light, and more familiar to me now than his son’s. He’s in a suit, like always. His legs are parted, and he has a scotch in his hand. As I watch, he tosses some back, and I hurry off stage.
Tyler.
What is he doing here?
Looking at myself in the mirror, I quickly slip into a dress and put on my heels, ready to do my rounds, but I can’t drag myself away from the mirror. I dab at the sweat on my made-up face, swiping my chin and around my red lips. Grabbing a cotton bud, I clean the lines of my heavily shadowed eyes before freezing. I’m wasting time, putting it off.
Big girl pants, Lexi.
Turning, I toss my hair over my shoulder and head out through the stage door. I saunter straight to him, knowing if I don’t, I will chicken out, but I have to know. Why is he here?
With every step I take closer, a feeling so strong grows within me, a fire, a desire. One that has been building for him since I first saw him, and somewhere inside, I know it will explode tonight.
But who will be left in the ashes?
To burn so bright and to feel so deeply is addictive, but when it is all over, the aftereffects will leave you weak and ruined. Tyler Phillips will ruin me. I know it, I saw it in those eyes.
But I want it.
I want to be ruined at his hands.
Broken and remade.
People reach out and congratulate me. They speak, but I don’t hear them. I smile and move on until I am before his table. “You’re magnificent,” he praises, drinking me in like always, but this time, he shutters the need in his eyes as they meet mine.
“Why are you here?” I ask, not unkindly.
He kicks out the other seat. “Sit, Angel.”
I do, and his lips quirk at that. He slides a drink to me, and I sip it—gin, ice, and lemon, my favourite. He sighs and looks around. “I wanted to see if you were okay. I spoke to Justin today.”
Licking my lips, I glance around too, unable to meet those eyes now, unsure what to say. He reaches out and grabs my arm, drawing me back. I stare down at his big hand on me and follow it up to his gaze, shivering from the intensity I see there. “Are you okay?”
I don’t answer, I’m unable to speak under all that power, and he clenches his hand almost painfully, his lips dipping unhappily. “Angel,” he warns.
“Yes and no,” I whisper, for only him to hear.
He doesn’t speak, just watches me, searching me for the truth, and it’s too much, too consuming, too sudden. I tug on my arm, and he lets it go before sitting back. I gasp in a wobbly breath when he releases me, and I raise a shaky hand to sip my drink. I lick the rim when I meet his eyes. “Is that why you’re really here? To see if I’m okay after your son broke up with me?”
He frowns but doesn’t look away. “Yes and no,” he admits, and I nod. We’re both dancing around the truth.
The reason he came, the reason he doesn’t leave. The reason I don’t walk away, the reason I lean closer.
Need.
Desire.
An urge to find out if it would be as good as my fantasies…
A forbidden whisper links us, something so wrong it’s right. And as I clench my thighs together and his hungry eyes devour me, I know. I am going to fuck Justin’s dad—
Tyler. I’m going to fuck him, taste him, and sate this desire, and once I’m feeling better and satisfied, I will walk away and this will all be a good memory to think about on occasion.
Tossing back my drink, I settle, knowing what I’m going to do. No more dancing around it, twirling with need and unspoken words. It’s now or never. Shoulders back, I smile at him, channelling all the bravery I use on stage, which helps me get my next words out.
“Meet me in the bathroom.” I stand, and with a backwards wink, I saunter through the crowd to the hallway at the back. I go into the women’s bathroom and lean into the mirror, checking my lipstick as I wait to see if he’ll follow. My heart is slamming into my chest, my hands shaking with nerves.
A moment later, the door slams open and he fills it. He looks confused, but also hungry.