If the past few weeks had shown her anything, it was that there would be no settling down with Seth Warren for a long time, if ever. He was a whirlwind. There would be no domesticating that one.
But here she was, chasing him like a lovesick fool. At least tonight would probably let her know if there might be a future with him at all, whatever it entailed.
Dammit, she’d gone from gnawing her thumbnail to her index finger now. She was going to ruin her entire manicure before they got there.
How Ghost made it through the show without bashing his guitar upside Mark’s head would be a mystery to ponder until the day he died. The answer probably lay in the mass quantities roaring through his bloodstream, and the fact that he spent most of his time onstage avoiding Raina, who kept coming too fucking close to him, wanting to sing into his mic on their shared vocals.
At the end of it, he made his feelings on the entire situation clear by bashing his guitar against the drum platform a dozen times instead, not caring which direction the shrapnel flew. He thought he’d caught a piece above his eye, but who the fuck cared. He took great satisfaction in feeling the stunned aftermath as he stormed off the stage.
Now. Get somewhere before you pass the fuck out. Damn good thing he’d decided in the end not to swallow the shit Gus had slipped him earlier; he’d probably be dead. He staggered down a short, too-bright hallway and veered into the first open door he saw with darkness beyond. Immediately he slammed his shin on something and nearly toppled over. “Shit!”
His hands met cushions as he caught himself and, realizing the offending object was a couch, he groaned and plopped down on it, stretching out along the length and burying his face in the back cushions. Darkness. Yes. No telling what past transgressions had transpired on the slightly foul-smelling piece of furniture, but at the moment he couldn’t give less of a shit. It was soft and horizontal. That was all he required.
When the door clicked shut behind him, he said a silent thank you to the considerate fucker who had bathed him in blessed darkness, and contemplated unconsciousness.
A hand, small and gentle, slid down his sweat-slick arm. Beyond the fingertips he felt the hardness of long nails. A grunt left him, and he jerked away. Leave me the fuck alone.
“Are you okay?” a soft voice asked. He didn’t know if he heard it or dreamed it, hovering in the gray between awake and oblivion.
“Go away,” he said all the same. His voice sounded like his throat was made of gravel.
It didn’t go away. That soothing hand kept right on rubbing, exploring his back, just barely squeezing his arm, his neck, moving downward until it grazed his bare side where his shirt had ridden up a bit. It slipped under to score his flesh lightly with those nails. Something strangely familiar about that. Familiar and…oh yeah, fucking hot. His dick twitched and swelled. He groaned. He thought of Macy. Her soft hair. Her smell. Sinking into her wet heat. Vanilla filled his head, almost as if she were here with him.
Strong, sure fingers rubbed his erection through his jeans, and he lost his breath, grinding into the touch. A sigh escaped from somewhere behind him. It turned into words. “I missed this so much.”
He missed her. Oh fuck, he missed her. Even through the dense fog in his head, he saw her face. He couldn’t even drink enough to make her go away. What kind of hell was that to be in? What the fuck did he ever do to deserve to go there?
Soft, cool lips brushed his neck. Warm breath tickled his ear. He thrust hard against the hand rubbing his now rock-hard cock, and before he knew it, those deft fingers had freed him.
Whoa, fuck, what was happening? Jerked out of his funk, he jacked up off the couch and grabbed whoever-it-was by her arms. Yes, definitely female. A surprised gasp sounded. He’d heard it a thousand times before, when he sucked on her nipple rings or her pierced clit or thrust hard into her always-willing pussy.
Raina. Motherfucking Raina with her hands on him.
It was no wonder all his thoughts were sex-oriented; he was so hard it hurt. But it wasn’t because of her crazy ass.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” he demanded. She