Page 11 of Pretty Poisoned

"But in large quantities, it can be deadly. It's poisonous; it can cause heart attacks."

"I'm not…poisonous," I tell him.

"No, I believe you," he says. "But my problem is I'm not really good at doing anything in moderation. It's a fucking shame. I bet you are so fucking sweet."

"I can be anything you want," I say. "Just tell me what you want. It's not Declan's choice."

"I really like this," he says, still running his fingers over the low lace neckline across my breasts.

"I have it in black," I tell him. "I'll wear it in San Francisco."

Luca shakes his head and laughs. "And you say you're not poisonous. God damn."

With that, he turns and heads for the back door.

"I'll see you there!" I call after him. "Don't forget to play my song."

"Okay, Teagan," he says over his shoulder before the door closes. "I'll see you in San Francisco."

What the fuck am I going to do now?

I was so close—and I didn't plan for failure. I also never would have guessed I'd be stuck standing here alone—hot and bothered, wet and horny as fuck. I look around the room and almost scream. I'd love to just pick someone to go burn this off with, but I can't afford to waste time…not that anyone here could live up to the tattooed rockstar sex god that just walked out the door.

"Fuck! God fucking damn it!" I scream, earning me a few questioning looks. I stomp out the door just in time to watch the tour bus pull away, and then walk a couple of cold, dark blocks back to the parking garage.

After aggressively pushing the unlock button about a hundred times, I climb inside the car and slam the door behind me. I turn the key in the ignition, and Declan's voice blares through the speakers.

"Fuck!" I scream, punching my steering wheel with both of my fists. "Fuck this! Fuck Declan De Rossi! Fuck!"

I lean back in my seat, pull at my hair, and scream again. Then, I think of Luca—of the sweat running down his abs when he played tonight, his hungry eyes on my body, his tattooed hands. I reach down the front of my shorts and find my swollen, aching clit. I close my eyes, drop my head back, and think of those hands on me as I rub myself hard and fast, whimpering, chasing the relief I so desperately need until finally I get my release, legs shaking as my clit pulses against my fingers.

It still isn't enough to take the edge off. Fuck.

I make myself come in my car's front seat again before leaving the garage. Then, I take the 405 until I hit the 5 North and prepare to drive all night.

I'll figure the rest out when I get there.

THREE

"Siri, find me a hotel."

It's six hours later when I reach the city limits of San Francisco. The sun hasn't risen quite yet—that's reassuring, at least. This time of year, I probably have an hour left. And if the sun is up, I know I won't sleep. All I want is sleep.

"There are seven hotels near your current location,"she replies.

I skip the ones starting with 'Motel' and click on the nearest Hilton.

"Route recalculation. In one mile, turn left."

Ten minutes later, I pull into the parking garage. I take the elevator to the first floor and approach the desk.

"I need a room, please," I tell the woman.

"Check-in isn't until eleven," she says.

"Please? I've been driving all night. You don't have any vacancies right now?"

"Ma'am, if I check you in now, I'll have to charge you for last night as well as tonight. And the only room I can get you into has a five-hundred dollar nightly rate."

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