Page 32 of InfraRed

“That’s exactly what you don’t need.”

I chuckle, turning my attention out the window when his penetrating gaze gets to be too much. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Are you going to answer the question?” He asks as he pulls into traffic.

“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to my employees.” He scoffs, and I sigh. “Not a fucking clue, man. Not a single goddamn fucking clue.”

Graham

Is she the reason pretty boy ain’t so pretty anymore?” Will asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer to the question.

My attention shifts from staring at the girl two feet from me, curled against the door, lightly snoring, to the review mirror, meeting the dark eyes of Will. He and my assistant are probably the closest things I have to friends, though Tasha is in Georgia for the foreseeable future, taking care of a family issue. “He’s the reason. Not her. He’s a slimy piece of shit. He’s the reason musicians and artists have a bad rep for taking advantage of their fans.”

Will snorts as a dark brow lifts. “I doubt he’sthereason. Maybe just a perpetuator of the negative stereotype.”

A rage rumbles in my chest, my teeth clenching as I swallow the fury. I look over at Casey, flashes of shadows and lights racing over her face as we drive down the busy streets in the endless New York traffic toward Casey’s apartment building on the Upper West Side, specifically chosen because of its location to her dance school and Columbia University. Her dark lashes flutter against her cheeks, making her look so peaceful. And yet, all I can think about is how that bastard had his hands on her. What he intended to do with her. And the red haze threatens to take over my vision once more.

What would’ve happened if Lily hadn’t called Jagger or if he hadn’t brought me there? Would her friends have stoppedher from making reckless decisions she would’ve regretted in the morning? They obviously don’t know the reputation that surrounds Erikson, or they wouldn’t have let him near their table. And Jagger obviously wasn’t paying attention, or he would have intercepted himself.

“I don’t give a fuck what he is. Did you leave him someplace he could be discovered soon?”

“He resting quietly in the alley. I’ll call with an anonymous tip soon. The drugs in his pockets should at least get him held for a day or two. But are you sure that’s what you want? Isn’t it bad publicity for the label?”

“Trust me, those assholes would probably have done it themselves if given the opportunity. They’ve combed his contract with a fine-tooth comb. I’ve done the same since arriving. It’s ironclad. But even if they weren’t okay with it, fuck them.”

“You’re growling.” My eyes refocus on Will’s, the red haze dimming. “Want my opinion?”

Pain erupts through my entire face as my jaw clenches with enough pressure to turn my teeth to dust. “Not particularly.” I grind out. He’ll tell me anyway. He doesn’t filter himself. It’s not in his nature.

“Too bad,” he chuckles as I knew he would, but before he can say whatever he’s thinking, a soft groan rumbles next to me.

“It’s hot.”

“We’re almost there, Ca—” All the words die on my tongue when I look over and see her tits on full display as she tries to fight her shirt over her head—of fucking course, she’s not wearing a bra. Small, round, perky as hell, yet barely a handful…

My mouth goes dry, and I take five full seconds to realize what’s happening. “Shit, Casey.” I close the foot between us and try towrestle her top back over her chest.

“No. I’m hot,” she whines, those long limbs tangling with mine, making a simple task far more difficult than it should be.

Will coughs from his seat to hide a laugh, and my head snaps his way, my eyes narrowing into murderous slits. “If you value your sight, you will keep your eyes forward,” I growl when his laugh breaks free and turn back to the completely wasted blond, who apparently forgets eighty percent of her personality when she’s drunk. “Fuck, Sunflower.” I give up on her shirt for a moment, grab her flailing arms, and tug her into my lap. I’m eye to nipple with the pert temptations, and my damn dick thumps against my zipper, daring me to sneak a taste. With a groan and grinding teeth, I tug her shirt down over her bare chest.

“But it’s so hot,” she pouts.

Then she tries to squirm out of my hold, and my damn dick twitches against her ass, making my head swim because of the lack of blood flow to my brain. I hold her tighter, pressing my forehead to her shoulder. “Casey. Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Sober Casey would’ve become stone still as she turned the color of cherries. Drunk Casey does the same, looking at me with wide eyes as she bites that succulent bottom lip. Then, in a very un-Casey-like move, she turns until she’s straddling me.

I thought Heaven would reward me for not killing Erikson. It was an act of mercy, after all. Or even for controlling myself with the woman I have fantasized about for years. I’ve been as appropriate as a red-blooded, heterosexual male can be when they’re in a confined space with half-naked, innocent, unsuspecting sex appeal. But it seems I’m being punished for my forbidden desires instead of honored for not acting on them.

The eighth circle of hell is having her pussy on my cock and all these clothes between us, those damn blue eyes glimmering withunsuppressed lust, and being able to donothingabout it.

Her soft hands cup each side of my face as she brings hers closer until her liquored breath fans my face. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.” I’m not, but even I wouldn’t buy that shit with how the words are hissed through my clenched teeth.

Her blond brows dip, eyes narrowing in disbelief as she brushes a thumb over my crinkled forehead and juts that bottom lip in a perfect pout.

The allure is too great, and I drag my thumb over that plump enticement, imagining sucking it into my mouth. Her lashes flutter, and her hips shift. I freeze as my raging arousal leaks. “For the love of God, please be still.” I sound like I swallowed gravel without chewing.

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