Page 59 of Dare To Live

Ivan smiles. “We need to check on some last-minute details. Come, Luchik. I want to keep you close, so delicious rock stars don’t tempt you away from me.”

I take another gulp of my drink, and search through the crowd. Eli is standing alone at a table. The second our gazes collide, heat sizzles down the connection.

Eli smirks.

I glare at him.

Phone in one hand, he types something. A beat later, my cell vibrates.

Who the fuck gave him my number?

I’m tempted to ignore it, but inquisitiveness wins.

Unknown number: I’m waiting for those panties, Kitten.

I narrow my eyes and respond.

Me: I told you to fuck off.

Unknown number: Don’t tell me you’re not wet at the idea of giving them to me in a room full of people.

Me: I don’t know what you think is happening here, Eli, but I’m not doing this with you.

Unknown number: Don’t you want me to touch you the way you begged me back at the cabin?

Me: Why should I even trust you?

Unknown number: Because, unlike your other lovers, I know exactly what gets you hot. I also know you’re curious.

What if I promise to make you come until you can’t walk? I’ll eat your pussy. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? My mouth on your tits, my tongue on your clit?

Is he serious, or is this bullshit to punish me a little more for what happened between us in the cabin?

I shift restlessly, the traitorous thrum of arousal humming through my blood. I’m wet from just his texts, every inch of me is prickling with awareness at his presence.

There’s a knowing look on his face when I look back up at him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me because he’s done it before. The memories of when we’d played together in the dark ten years ago are still the ones that get me off.

Is he screwing with my head?

A flare of panic hits me out of nowhere and I whirl away in the opposite direction, only to smash into a wall of muscle. The champagne left in my glass douses the front of my dress as I stumble back. Before I can fall, a strong arm wraps around my waist, preventing me from landing on my ass.

I cringe, the sticky wetness soaking through the material against my breasts. “I’m so sorry.”

The arm around me drops away. “Are you okay?” The deep rumbling voice is attached to the famous drummer Miles pointed out to me earlier, Draven Moore.

“Yes, just glad I wore a black dress tonight.” My laugh is high and nervous.

His lips curve, and he produces a tissue from one pocket. “It’s clean.”

I smile back at him and accept it, then look down at the damp spot on my chest. “I should go and sponge this. I’m not sure a tissue will be enough.” I dab at the wet spot.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning.”

I shake my head. “No but thank you. It was my fault. I should have looked where I was going.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. Please, don’t worry.”

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