“No glasses today?” I’ve noticed she doesn’t always wear them. Not that I care. Hot librarian or doe-eyed babe, both looks are sexy as hell.
She closes the CD binder, and her eyes dart to mine before she shrugs and focuses out the window. “I usually only wear them when I read or watch movies.”
Silence simmers between us. Visions of her reading in my bed or watching a movie wrapped in my arms wearing nothing but her glasses flicker behind my eyes. I shift, suddenly restless in my seat. I’ve always been a horny prick, but lately I’m getting a stiffy from the friction of the wind. My libido is all out of whack. First her fluffy pink socks, and now her reading—wait.
When was the last time I got laid?
That’s got to be the problem. I make a mental note to take care of that ASAP. With all the pressure of the fight coming up, my back being fucked five-ways to Friday, and family shit poking at me, I could use a little extracurricular release.
And sure as shit, relieving the sexual tension will make being around Layla a lot easier.
We park in the lot of the training center and hop down from the Jeep. I click the alarm and find her waiting for me by the back end.
Her fingers are twisted in a tendril of hair from her ponytail. “Um… I wanted to say thanks, again, for helping me out.” Her gaze swings to the training center’s front door then back to me. “I don’t have any friends. But, this feels like something a friend would do, and I just want to say…” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Thank you. It’s nice to have a friend.”
That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten the “I just want to be friends talk”. Other than feeling like I’ve just been kicked in the gut, that wasn’t so bad.
“Sure thing, Mouse.”
A soft smile pulls at her lips before she walks away. I watch the roll of her hips and the way her ass swings in the opposite direction of the sway of her hair.
Yeah, I’m definitely going to have to get laid tonight.
Nine
Layla
“Bye, Mom!” Elle shouts from the kitchen.
“Oh, hold on! I want to meet—” The sound of the front door slamming cuts me off. “Or not.”
Elle and a girlfriend from school are hitting up a double feature at the theater tonight. It works out great for me, because I’m headed back to The Blackout to meet up with Mac. She’d told me that she always works on the nights Ataxia plays. And according to the band flyer Rex hooked me up with, they have a show there tonight. Blake’s been a good friend, but I need a girlfriend to gab and gossip with. Mac’s the closest thing I have to that, and having a drink and listening to good music is a bonus.
Deciding to go for casual, I throw on my favorite pair of old jeans with holes in the knees. I should’ve gotten rid of them years ago, but they’re so comfortable and do wonders for my butt. A long-sleeved thermal shirt, Pantera concert tee, black belt and biker boots. I’m ready.
I sit at the bottom of the steps, eyeing the Camaro. Much as I’d love to cruise that beauty around town tonight, I might have a few drinks. Crashing a classic car that belongs to a man whose nickname is “The Assassin” doesn’t sound like a smart move.
A white cab with fare prices printed on the door pulls up. Right on time.
The drive to The Blackout is a short one. Pushing through the entrance and into the dark club, I spot Mac immediately. She’s behind the bar, slinging drinks like they’re an extension of her body. I weave through the few people and random tables and saddle up. She’s taking cash from a guy, so I sit and patiently wait for her to see me. The band is already setting up on stage, and it looks like they’re minutes away from starting.
“What can I get—oh hey, Layla! How are you?” She stands up on something so that she can fold her body over the bar top and pull me into a hug.
“I’m great. I thought you’d be on tonight, so I stopped by for a drink.”
She shrugs one shoulder while pouring drinks. “They have me behind the bar tonight. I’m glad you’re here. Wednesdays are never busy, so I’m usually standing around, bored.”
“Perfect, now I can keep you company.” I order a Corona and sit back while she grabs my beer.
The bar fills up, but it’s nothing close to how crowded it was the first night I was in. Girls suited up in their most eye-catching, flesh-baring clothes huddle around the stage.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” With a head tilt, Mac motions to the girls who’re clearly the masters of attracting a horny male. “Be a miracle if you could find one virgin in this town. You know, they’ve considered changing the name to Sex Vegas.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’ve never seen so many beautiful people in one place.” Beautiful and young. I take a swing of my beer. You’d never see this kind of thing in Seattle, but then again, if you’re not wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, you’re freezing your ass off.
“Nah, it’s an optical illusion caused by the sun and copious amounts of silicone.” She squints her eyes at something just over my shoulder and then shakes her head. “Ah, wouldn’t be an orgy without ‘The Snake’.”
Huh? My stomach drops to my toes. I follow the direction of her mirthful glare and choke on my own spit. Blake is standing off to the side of the stage. And he’s not alone. He’s leaning into a very tall, extremely gorgeous blonde, and she’s got her hand behind his neck.
I try to turn my head, to pull my eyes away, but they stay super-glued to the couple. His lips are moving, and his head is tilted along with his smile. She’s nodding, her lip wedged between her teeth as if she’s biting back the urge kiss him. Yep, he’s definitely sweet-talking her panties off.
Ha. Like she’s wearing any.
He leans in close and whispers in her ear. Her lips move, and whatever she says brings his hand to her hair. With a few passes of his thumb against her jaw, he coaxes her lips closer to his. Oh, God. He’s going to kiss her.
Again, I try to avert my gaze. Unable to break the hypnosis, I watch in animal-documentary slow motion as he tightens his fingers in her hair and pulls her to his mouth. She melts into his hold, and he dissolves the space between them. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, and my chest constricts.
I scan the room, searching for something, anything to look at, but my eyes gravitate back like heat-seeking missiles. And holy hell is there heat. It’s practically peeling the paint off the walls. His huge body presses her back, pinning her with his hips. His hands move over her body like he’s memorizing every curve.
I’ve never been kissed like that. Stewart never kissed me at all unless he was between my legs, grunting like a rooting pig. My heart pinches painfully.
“Layla?” Mac’s voice gets my attention.
“Hmm?” I blink a few times and take a long pull of my beer. No longer facing Blake and his female companion, I imagine where they’re at in terms of bases. My guess is second.
Mac’s unique tawny-colored eyes study mine. “You okay?” She motions to her own face but nods toward me. “You went pale.”
I wave her off and swallow the last of my beer. Boy, that went down fast. “Nah, I’m fine.” Although my back feels like it’s on fire from the intensity of what’s going on behind me.
Mac’s eyes move over my shoulder. Her face scrunches up. “Oh, God. Those two need a condom. Fast.”
I blow a slow breath out my mouth. Gosh dammit. What is wrong with me? Why does this hurt so badly? We’re just friends, but the way I’ve respond to the mere thought of him with a girl isn’t healthy. And seeing the eyeball-burning live version is like having my guts ripped out, William Wallace style.