Page 8 of Stuck with a Billionaire Rockstar

“Uh, no, not at all.”

He sinks into the chair and looks around the room before bringing his focus back onto me. “What’s your name?” He’s got a bottle of beer in his hand that he brings to his mouth after asking the question, and I’d love for the action to spark something inside of me.

It does nothing.

No dip in my belly tingles over my skin, or heat in my veins. I’m too terrified of making a fool of myself to feel anything else.

I arch a brow at his question. “Is that really something I should answer to a complete stranger? What if you’re some kind of ax murderer?” The smile he was wearing disappears, and I clear my throat. “I guess it’s a good thing the statistics of a homicide occurring by a stranger are rare, or else I’d be in the wrong hands, am I right?” I chuckle, but the silence from him speaks volumes and I mentally curse at myself for speaking.

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Right.” I can tell by the way he won’t look me in the eyes now that I’ve already screwed this up, and I’d smack myself in the face if it wouldn’t make me look crazier.

Someone put this man out of his misery.

Right on cue, a perky redhead comes up to our table and smiles brightly between the two of us. “There you are,” she says, her attention falling onto the man in front of me as if I’m not sitting right here, and my stomach churns when he gives the same attention back. “Was afraid I lost you.”

“Nope,” he says, all too eager to lift from the table and step closer to her. As if remembering that I’m sitting here, his eyes fall onto me with a frown, and he runs a hand through his short hair. “Uh, it was nice talking to you.” I watch as he urges the redhead to move toward the dance floor, then blow out a rough breath.

“Sure,” I say to myself.

“God.” The voice behind me has me straightening my spine. “That was painful to watch,” Brent says before sitting in the seat that was previously occupied. He chuckles with a shake of his head. “I mean, brutal.”

The blood drains from my face, my hands shaking around the full glass sitting in front of me, and I keep my gaze pointed away from Brent. “Thanks, I get it,” I mumble.

“I could help, you know?” Brent says, and I choose this moment to glance at him, finding his eyes hooked on the dance floor ahead. “Flirting is kind of my thing.”

At this rate, I’m convinced anyone could flirt when compared to me. I sigh and shake my head. “I’d rather not.”

“Come on, Buttercup,” he says while leaning into the table. “Think of all the things you could learn from me. Plus,” he adds. “This could be my thank you for getting Mallory to calm down about me being here.”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

The black t-shirt he’s wearing looks the same as every other t-shirt he wears, except now I can’t help but look at the way it fills out his frame. His muscles are prominent under the fabric, tattoos spreading down the length of his arms, and his blue eyes are calling to me like the Caribbean in those stock photos that always pop up.

I can’t let the way my heart is pounding furiously get me all twisted up.

“Maybe,” Brent says, then stands and holds his hand out to me with a smirk. “I’ll give you an example of my expertise. How about a dance lesson?”

I lift my chin up defiantly and glare at him. “I can dance.”

“Okay, then you won’t mind proving it.”

This can’t end well, but I place my hand in his anyway and let him lead the way. My only hope is that Mallory is so consumed with her new eye candy that she doesn’t catch me stepping onto the crowded dance floor with her brother – now that would be bad.

4

Brent

There’s no reason why I should be pulling Julia onto the dance floor right now. It’s not my problem if she can’t recognize when a guy is trying to flirt with her or that she has zero game when it comes to flirting back, yet I’m making it mine. The further we disappear through the crowd on the dance floor, the tighter her fingers wrap around mine, and tingles cascade up my arm.

I bring us to a stop in the middle of a few people, then tug her into me, making sure to spin her around so that her ass brushes over the front of my pants, and I lower my head enough that my lips brush over her ear. Her shoulders tense at the action, and she sucks in a sharp breath that’s able to be heard over the thumping bass surrounding us.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching you, Buttercup.” I back my face away from her a few inches and place my hand lightly against her hip. Every muscle in her body is tight with tension, making her seem as though she’s a mannequin rather than a woman standing in the middle of a dancefloor. “Relax. I’ve got you, Julia.”

It takes a few moments of deep breaths before she listens to my words, her shoulders loosening as she releases another breath, and I curl my fingers into her hip with a smile. I don’t know what I expected to find when I walked into the club, but it wasn’t the woman standing in front of me. The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the crowded space was Julia’s blonde hair cascading down her back over the shimmery red top.

I bring my other hand over her bare thigh, which is barely covered by the leather skirt she’s got on, and my cock jumps when she unintentionally shifts her ass against me. “Bring your arms up,” I say loud enough that she can hear me. She’s hesitant but brings them up, and I reach one of my hands up to guide them around the back of my neck. “Follow the beat of the music.”

---