Page 28 of Wicked Rockstar

I raised an eyebrow and forced myself not to smile. Tris had that effect on me—she could make me smile without even trying.

“Huh, interesting.” She continued with the wide-eyed innocent look, turning back to look at the number again, then back at me.

The longer I remained silent, the more she fidgeted and shifted her weight from foot-to-foot.

“It’s just a weird coincidence,” she repeated. “I mean, what are the chances, right?” She snort-laughed and unnecessarily gestured towards the building number behind me.

She began tapping her foot, and her gaze darted from me to the number a few more times. That’s when Tris realized I wasn’t buying it. She huffed out a breath, and when she saw a couple walking through the door, she wrapped her delicate fingers around my wrist and pulled me away from the entrance.

“When did you figure it out?” she asked.

“What, that you were lying?”

She nodded and bit her plump bottom lip, sending a shot of lust spearing through me, along with the sudden urge to brush my thumb across it. To keep from doing so, I clenched my hands.

“Tris, you suck at lying. Why are youreallyhere, babe?” The endearment slipped out involuntarily.

I had to be careful and make sure that didn’t happen again. And I really had to get out of here, because being around her messed with my head … and other parts of my anatomy.

“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “I’m here to see you.”

“Well, tonight isn’t a good night for me.” I glanced at Max waiting in the nearby car for me. “I’m just heading out.”

“I can just go with you then.” She nodded and started toward the car, as though it was already decided.

“Nope,” I grabbed her elbow and stopped her. “I don’t think it’s your scene.”

I fucking hated the fucking unfamiliar pang of guilt that shot through my chest. Guilt was a feeling I’d learned to squelch a long time ago.

But I didn’t want Tris anywhere near this damn party. Funny thing is, if she knew what was about to happen on my yacht, she wouldn’t be offering to join me—she would be running the other way. And rightly so.

Max rolled down the passenger window. “You coming or what?”

“Fuck you.” I threw up my middle finger.

Asshole just laughed and rolled the window up.

“Tris, we can talk tomorrow. Come by in the afternoon.” I brushed past her, trying to ignore the heat that zinged through my body at the contact.

Without realizing it, she was my kryptonite and telling her no was difficult.

I turned, opened the back door to my car, and the rich leather squeaked when I settled into the seat. I swung the door shut just as the other door closed with a solidthump.

Tris somehow managed to run around to the other side and climbed in next to me.

A chill fanned out from my spine. I could not let her anywhere near my yacht.

“Tris, you need to leave.” I was an asshole for kicking her out, but she didn’t deserve to get mixed up in this part of my life.

“I can’t Killian.” She grabbed a handful of the sleeve of my leather jacket, her blue eyes wildly desperate, completely oblivious to what might happen to her if she went with me. “Because, if I do, I’ll lose my nerve.”

Lose her nerve?

I shook my head and reinforced my determination to keep her away from the yacht tonight.

“Get out, Tris.” I tugged my arm from her grasp.

It was clear she wasn’t moving of her own volition, so I might have to physically remove her from the car.

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