Page 87 of One Last Verse

My heart thundered in my chest. I’d been corrupted and compromised by the golden boy of hard rock and his cock.

“I understand.” Frank nodded. “Could we leave Ms. Evans out of it and just write one for me?”

Who said chivalry was dead?

The officer cleared his throat. “I suppose I can let you go with a warning.” I heard a smile in his voice. “My wife is a big fan. Would you sign an autograph for her?”

The dynamics between us shifted. The officer handed him a blank ticket form.

“What’s your wife’s name?” Frank asked, fishing out a pen from the glove compartment.

“Sarah.”

“Tell Sarah I said thank you for the support.” He scribbled a few words on the paper and returned it to the officer. “Apologies for the horrible handwriting. I’m still a bit sore.”

“It’s all good. She’ll be stoked. Will probably frame it. We’ve got all your records on vinyl.”

“Vinyl is the way to go.”

“Absolutely. That new guy, Marshall Burns… He’s got nothing on you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You get better, Mr. Wallace.”

“Thank you.”

I rolled up the window and watched the officer walk back to his patrol car in the mirror. Grinning, Frank fixed his jeans and shirt.

“Oh my God, that was so close.” A sigh of relief escaped from between my lips.

We looked at each other and shared a laugh of amusement.

I spun in my seat and searched for my underwear.

Frank slid his hand over my thigh and whispered, “I have your panties, doll.”

“Well, give them back.”

“When we get home.”

“You want me to drive home like this?” I motioned at my disheveled dress. “What if we get pulled over?” Heat pooled between my legs and I shivered.

“We won’t as long as you don’t speed.” He smirked. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Nine

Levi and I waited for Margerie Helm, the manager of Melrose Cinema, at the concessions area. Dressed in business casual, we sat on the couch and gawked at the dark, vintage-styled interior. The theater wasn’t open to the public yet, and the only people inside were employees tidying up the foyer.

I’d spoken to Margerie on the phone and we’d exchanged a few emails, but she was a thorough woman. She wanted to meet in person before giving us a definite answer.

“Did you two go to the movies?” Levi grunted, handing me his phone.

“Yes.” Sore from last night’s sex marathon, I was daydreaming. Frank and I had hardly slept. We’d fucked some more after we got home. First in the shower, then in the bedroom. Then in the shower again. Every muscle in my body ached.

“You’re on TMZ again,” Levi croaked.

I took his phone and scrolled through the gallery of blurred photos of Frank and me inside the theater and the headline.

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