Page 22 of Midnight Dissonance

That phrase had kept her tossing and turning all week long. She’d never had a man, Dom or otherwise, make a statement even remotely close to it.

By the time she arrived home after her shift and was getting herself ready for the show that night, she was no closer to an answer.

Although an insidious thought had crept in. Was his interest purely because she turned him down? And now he was on some mission to get in her pants and then drop her like a hot potato?

She didn’t want to even consider that potential angle, but the doubt had taken up residence and was battling it out for dominance. Lexi didn’t trust his interest.

All her life, she’d been disregarded and mistreated by those closest to her. Between her parents’ disapproval, snide comments from her sister, and Gabe’s disappointment with her, she was batting a thousand in the wrong direction.

What would make her think that Josh, a hot, older, cultured man, would be interested in her of all people? They were total opposites. She wondered if it was some sort of freak outreach program being enacted by the Doms at the Eros Pit.

Had Gabe put him up to it? Or was it just Josh because he felt slighted by her refusal to scene with him?

She didn’t know. And therein lay the problem. She hated not knowing the motives behind his interest. It was easier if she understood the players in her life and what they wanted from her.

She felt him before she saw him. She was hooking up her microphone when she felt a presence behind her that ignited sparks along her spine. And then morphed into a whispered caress that burned.

On edge, she turned and found him standing in front of the stage, holding her guitar case. Jesus, he looked good, sexier than he had a right to. Tonight, he wore jeans, a soft navy blue cable-knit sweater, and a black leather jacket. Not a single hair was out of place.

And she didn’t know why, but she wanted to ruffle him. See how far she could push him before he snapped. Would he go all dominant on her? Or would he run?

There was only one way to find out.

She jerked her head toward the side of the stage, then headed down the stairs. And he was there.

All big, growly Irish Dom. There was a part of her that was tempted to say to hell with it and have a night with him.

She reached for her guitar. “Thanks for bringing—”

“Nice try, lass, but not so fast.”

Plunking her hands on her hips, she glared. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. We both know if I hand this over, you will do everything in your power to head out of here without talking to me. And we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Stuff I’m sure you don’t want other people to hear.”

“Like?”

He stepped closer with an arched brow. “You sure you want to do this now?” His eyes trailed over her with an incendiary heat that left her wanting to fan her face. Not that she would give him the satisfaction.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I need to know what your hard limits are.”

“You don’t need to know those.” She shot a glance around, but no one was paying them any heed. And the club was busy enough that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard.

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear with his free hand. The intensity in his eyes left her unsettled and feeling like she was under a microscope. “Yes, I do. That way when I take you to bed, I’ll know what limits not to cross. It’s for your own good, lass.”

“When you . . . we aren’t going to bed together.”

“Yes, we are. It’s inevitable.”

“And you’re full of yourself. That you would think I’ve had a change of heart in the past two weeks.”

“Lest you forget, you’re the one who kissed me first. You opened the door. I’m just walking through it.”

A slow, seductive grin spread over his face, and her panties went damp. “You’re still going on about that kiss. Are you that hard up?”

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