Page 26 of Heart Break Her

It’s Sebastian’s song, but it might as well sing in my blood the way it runs through me.

"One rose for her in her hand

One for the soul of the damned

Love and death walking the line

Pulling the trigger this time

Knowing my heart might be cold

Drips down the depths of my soul

One tug and all will be fine

Revolve her, dissolve her, she’s mine"

I hit the silence button and hope this isn’t solidifying myself as one of his many groupies. Although, spending hours with him naked probably already did.

“Good song,” I say, as silence once again claims the room.

Sebastian stares at me like I baffle him. He’s studying my face so hard it makes me nervous.

I’m smart enough to know nothing good comes from spending time with a man like him. A rolling stone who collects women, trouble, and scars in every city. I’ve seen the impact of Sebastian’s lifestyle firsthand with Myth.

And if I ever doubted why Myth kept me as far away as possible, it became crystal clear when he died.

But looking at Sebastian standing in my kitchen like the rock god he is, my whole body is drawn to him.

It’s awake.

Tempted.

Curious.

Even if my brain knows better.

“Come with us,” Sebastian says finally.

My face pinches as I try to piece together what he’s asking. “Where? I already said I don’t want the job.”

“I’m not talking about a job. We’re headed to Tampa next, then Tallahassee, then Atlanta. Everywhere,” he says it nonchalant, like it’s not a huge deal to pick up your life and hop on a bus with a guy you fooled around with once. Much less Sebastian Kane, as I stupidly keep reminding him.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I have a job here,” I say, not quite sure about that one. “And my family, my apartment. And what are you even asking, anyway? Like I said, that night was out of character. I’m not going to just leave my life to follow a rock band around like some kind of groupie.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” His voice is sharp, and I must have hit a nerve because he sounds genuinely pissed at my comment.

Sebastian lifts off the counter and walks over to me, planting his hands on the island on either side of my hips, which brings him dangerously close to my face. His hips are to one side of my legs and my body is aware of every inch between us.

“I don’t do relationships,” Sebastian says. “Doesn’t suit my lifestyle.”

Harsh and unnecessary, but okay.

“I’m not asking you for one. I didn’t expect to see you again,” I remind him, irritated with his assumption.

---