Page 41 of Hold You Close
Enough. Get out of his bedroom. You don’t belong here.
But after I’ve turned off all the downstairs lights and stretched out on the couch, I can’t stop hearing his voice.The next time I kiss you, London Parish, it’ll be because you beg me to.
I’m a little worried he might be right.
Ten
Ian
“Don’t you want me to come over to your place?” a half-drunk brunette, named Collette, who drives a Corvette, asks, while running her finger down my chest.
Any other night, the answer would’ve been, Why wait to get back to my place? I have an office and a lock. But tonight . . .
Nope.
I’m not even a little interested in this woman with legs for days.
Instead, my mind has been traveling back to a different brunette. Instead of blond highlights, the one I’m thinking of has chocolate brown hair with subtle red hues in it. Her green eyes are pure jade instead of the deep brown the woman in front of me has. And while Colette wants to be in my bed, I’m silently praying London is in my bed . . . naked.
“Not this time.” I pull her hand away, and she pouts.
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe not,” I say and take a sip of my drink.
Being back has been weird and working off the excess energy is exactly what I should do, but not like this. I’ll run or go for a swim when I get back. Thankfully, my absence didn’t cause the club any major issues, which is a good thing. It means Drea is actually doing her job—finally. Or, at least she didn’t burn the place down. However, I spent a good part of the night fixing orders that were going out tomorrow. Drea is not so good when it comes to the paperwork part.
I came out to the floor about two hours ago, enjoying the atmosphere, talking with customers, and needing to get away from my phone since I checked it about a hundred times. I’ve become a pussy, waiting for a text message from a girl.
A girl that’s not even my girl.
“If you change your mind . . .” She grins.
“I won’t, but have a good night and get home safe.”
Toby lets out a laugh that he attempts to cover over with cough, but I catch it. Collette walks out of the club, feelings probably hurt, but we’re officially closed now. Tonight, we were packed, everything went great, and I felt like myself again, minus the not getting laid part.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn him, lifting my glass to get a little more. I’ve earned it.
I’ve known Toby a long time. He and I started out the same way, promoting the hottest clubs on the strip, partying at them so we could bring in more girls who would spend all their money. He’s good people and I never have to worry about cash missing from the register.
He refills my scotch. “That’s a first.”
“I’m experiencing a lot of those lately.”
First time driving a fucking minivan, dealing with a five-year-old who doesn’t want to talk to me, remembering to feed other people, kissing London and thinking about doing it again . . . the list has been endless since Sabrina’s death.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” he laughs.
“Yeah, me either.”
Giant. Fucking. Pussy.
That’s the next tattoo I’m getting, right across my forehead.
“How is it having the kids in the house?”
“It’s a mix of being tortured and being happy at the same time. This will be the real test, though.”
