Page 77 of Scoring Grey

“Make it five, please.” I’m not typically a beer drinker, but nothing really sounds good, and I haven’t eaten since lunch, so a beer feels like the wiser choice. I bump his elbow. “You realize I’m not going to let that go. Explain.”

He picks up one of the cardboard coasters and spins it between his fingers. “I should have said that differently. I don’t have someone I’m talking to, but there’s someone out there, and that’s why no one has stuck. They’re not her.”

Well, now I’m hella curious. “Have I met her?” He turns his face away from me, and I know that’s to avoid my studying gaze. “I have met her, haven’t I? Dash, come on?—”

He holds up his hand. “Eloise, please…” His eyes flick back to mine, and I don’t like what I see there. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but now you know. Can we leave it at that?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s left,” I add, hating the tortured look behind his generally playful eyes. The bartender brings back the beers, and I lay cash on the bar before Dash can pull out his wallet. “First round’s on me. Let’s go.”

I’m just putting the glasses down on the table at our booth when a hand skims over my shoulder, taking me by surprise, and I straighten. “Eloise, is that you?” a familiar voice I can’t place asks.

“Oh my God, Jagger,” I say, rushing out as I go in for a hug. “How have you been?”

Jagger was in most of my art classes in high school. If he could take nothing but visual and performing arts classes, he would have. The entire school knew who he was. He was hard to miss, standing out in any crowd with his unearthly pale green eyes, dark skin, and long black hair. He didn’t look like the typical preppy, spoiled rich kid who attended our private school, but that was part of his appeal. Jagger didn’t fit in because he wasn’t supposed to. He was writing his story, leaving his mark so that he’d be the one people talked about in their stories.

I spot a guitar strap wrapped around his front. “Wait, are you playing tonight?” I point to the stage.

His beautiful green eyes smile with his mouth. “Yeah, I am.” His smile fades slightly at the same time an arm wraps around my shoulder. I don’t have to look to know that Cal is giving him a warning look.

“Jagger, it’s been a while.” Cal holds out his hand to shake Jagger’s as he tucks me into his side, ensuring he knows who I’m with.

Without missing a beat, Jagger takes it. “Congrats on the win tonight. I was heading to the stage when Eloise’s bright blond hair caught my eye, and I thought I’d stop by and say hi.” He nods to the stage. “Wanna check it out?”

I look up at Cal and he says, “Where you go, I go.”

I turn to Jagger. “Yes, please.” I clap my hands in excitement. I’m not the least bit musically inclined. I can’t sing for shit, but I love to listen. “How crazy is running into you here of all places?” I say as we follow Jagger behind the stage.

“That’s what I thought when I saw you. I guess it’s a small world, after all.”

“Is this your first time playing here?”

He smiles. “You don’t know what band I’m part of, do you?”

I roll my lips, not wanting to say I have no idea, but I’m surprised he’s only playing in bars. I heard Jagger play back in high school. The guy always had a guitar strapped to his back and would play in the courtyard at lunch. He was really good even then.

“Do you play in a lot of bars?” I try to change the subject.

“Blondie, he’s the lead singer of Breaking Dawn,” Cal says, squeezing my hip.

“Holy shit, how did I not know that? I listen to your song ‘Stargazing’ all the time.” I really need to watch TV every now and again. “Wait, why are you playing in this bar?”

“We’re in town for a concert. One of my bandmates knows the owner of this bar, and it’s been a while since we played in a venue like this. We decided to do a pop-up show. Small venues feed the soul. They allow you to connect with the audience more intimately.”

“Jagger, it’s time. We’re going to do a quick sound check,” a guy I assume is his drummer says, walking up behind us carrying sticks.

“It was good running into you guys. Feel free to watch from back here if you want.” Jagger gives Cal a pound hug and then turns to me. “I’d give you another hug, but my face is too pretty to risk this guy’s fist.” I laugh, and he shoots me a wink before heading up the steps to the stage.

“You’re a barbarian,” I scold him playfully.

He spins me in his arms. “I thought you liked my savage behavior.” He slowly backs me toward the wall. “I have your nail marks scarred onto my skin to prove it.” Before I can smart back, his lips cover mine and he pins me against the wall. His tongue dives deep as his hands grip my ass hard, and any qualms I had about his barbaric, territorial behavior are dismantled. I love it when he loses control. It’s raw, untamed passion that says fuck the world, you’re all I see, all I want. “I need you,” he says as his lips blaze a trail down my neck, and he pumps his hard length against my pussy.

“Mmm… take me home,” I say, digging my fingers into his muscular back.

He nips my lobe. “No, I need you now. I’ve had a semi all night, watching you parade around in my jersey.” His lips find my collarbone. “I’ve wanted to fuck you hard for teasing me.”

“Cal, we’re in public. Someone could see us. This isn’t an empty stadium. This place is packed.”

“We’re backstage.” He sets me down, walks me toward the stage, and pulls back the curtain just enough so I can see. “Everyone’s out there.” He smacks my ass and pulls my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck before dragging his tongue up to my ear. “No one will hear you screaming my name as I shove my fat cock in your tight little pussy.” His hands drift down my stomach, and heat pools low in my belly. Fuck. He knows I’m a sucker for unhinged dirty talk and a quickie. It’s why when his hands flick over the button of my jeans, he meets zero resistance. “Put your hands on the stage, blondie. You’re in trouble.”

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