The Ex Factor - Erin McCarthy Page 0,22
a dead horse. Besides, you’re the one always bitching about the paparazzi. You just did five minutes ago. You can’t have it both ways. I didn’t see any point to talk about this now, but I guess I should say thanks for too little too late. Half-ass apology accepted.”
Ouch. Jolene was never one for holding back. She had a point. There was no reason to go back over old hurts. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Well, you did, so talk, Rivers.” She squeezed her hair into the sink with angry fists.
Was he paradoxical? He’d never thought of himself that way. But maybe she had a point. He was impulsive, and he did just say whatever he was thinking without concern for consequence. But he had just waded into a discussion he didn’t know how to finish. Especially not now when he could think of much more delicious things they could be doing, like pulling the covers back on that big old bed and rubbing up against each other.
He wanted to talk but now he really didn’t know what to say. Classic Rivers move. At least he’d apologized. Sort of.
So he defaulted to old habits and just pulled some bull out of his butt. “I’m inspired. I think the next song on the track should be called ‘Fakin’ it.’ I want to get back to my guitar.”
It was safer that way. For both of them.
She took the towel back off and slowly began to dry herself.
His mouth went dry. His body hummed with anticipation of how it would feel to sink inside her. Sex with Jolene was off the charts. It always had been. His few tumblings with Dixie since their breakup had been mediocre at best, though it wasn’t Dixie’s fault. She’d put the time and effort in, but he just hadn’t felt it. There was no genuine chemistry. Then of course in the end he’d wised up and realized she had wanted his contacts in the business more than him anyway so he had felt decidedly less guilty for their lackluster love life.
But it was safe to say that he hadn’t been satisfied, truly sexually satisfied, since that last night with Jolene. He remembered that perfectly. Not the fight. That was hazy and muddled. But he did remember the sex in great detail.
“Remember the hot tub?” he asked her.
“What?” She sounded annoyed. She hung the towel up on the bar and strode over to the sink, picking her hairbrush up. With less than gentle strokes she started to yank it through her hair.
“That last day. When we made love in the hot tub. You looked like you did just now in the shower. Dewy and sexy and aroused.”
She paused and looked at him in the mirror. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. She made him feel like Jekyll and Hyde. Tender one minute, sexual the next. He wasn’t trying to confuse her, but hell, he was confused himself. Misery loves company. “Just saying what I’m thinking.”
Which he had just told himself he wasn’t going to do. Damn, she had tolerated a lot from him. He was hard to handle.
“Well, stop it,” she said, going back to brushing, her strokes even angrier. “You got no business thinking, Chance Rivers.”
That made him laugh softly. “Maybe you have a point.” But he couldn’t let it go at that. He came up behind her and took the hairbrush out of her hand. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain he started to brush her hair himself, pulling through the strands gently. “Maybe I’m only good for one thing--writing songs.”
She locked eyes with him in the mirror. “That’s not all you’re good for,” she said dryly. “You grill a mean steak too.”
That made him laugh. “Thanks, JoJo.”
The nickname slipped out without warning. It felt familiar, yet a privilege he wasn’t entitled to anymore. He supposed she was used to people fussing with her hair, because she didn’t seem to think it was weird that he was brushing it. He was taking advantage of her attraction to him and that wasn’t fair of him. Yet he wasn’t stopping, was he?
“What are you doing?” she asked. “You’re running as hot and cold as the flu. And they call women teases. What bullshit.”
“Which do you prefer? Hot or cold?” It satisfied him to know she was wanting more. He couldn’t help it.
“You know I prefer hot. Don’t try to be cute, it doesn’t work on you.” She reached for the hair-dryer on the