Page 506 of Rock Me All Night
He's close. I can make out his expression. Concern. About me or something else?
"Your friend ran off." I push myself to my feet. "You should hurry if you want to catch her."
He looks up at me. "You were wearing glasses."
I rub my eyes. It does nothing to help my vision or my comprehension of the situation. His voice is even, his posture is confident. Three minutes ago, he was screwing that girl in the bathroom. Now, he's worried about my glasses.
I can't help but laugh. "You noticed what I was wearing while you were pounding the screaming brunette."
"Stopped pounding when you opened the door," he teases.
"I guess you did."
He reaches for something on the floor then pushes himself to his feet. "Theseareyours?"
He holds up my glasses. I squint to make out the damage. They're broken at the bridge. Damn.
"You have tape?" he asks.
I nod. "Yeah. It's through here." I lead him to the back room. After two months taking every shift I can get, I know the bar well enough to navigate sans corrected vision.
Supplies are in the Manager's Office. Booth against the wall is the only place to sit. I point everything out to him and slide into the bench seat.
A few moments later, he slides into the booth next to me with a roll of tape. My heart beats faster. A flutter builds below my stomach.
This beautiful image pops into my head—the two of us in the bathroom, him pressing me against the wall, one hand tugging at my long blond hair, the other sliding under my skirt.
I want to be lost in pleasure the way that woman was.
Is it even possible for sex to feel that good?
"Here." His deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He holds up my now taped together glasses.
"You're good with your hands."
He chuckles. "True."
"I didn't mean it like that."
His laugh gets deep. "Years of playing the bass guitar does good things for your dexterity."
The bass guitar.
No. He can't be Pete Steele, the bassist of the alternative rock band, Sinful Serenade. They're Madison's favorite band. Her wall is covered in pictures of them and especially pictures of the enigmatic bassist.
"These will hold for tonight." His deep brown eyes meet mine. "I'll buy you new glasses tomorrow."
"You're going to buy me glasses?"
"My fault these are broken."
"What if I never want to see you again?"
"Then you wouldn't have let me help you."
I bite my lip. I can't afford new glasses and I can't work with these for long. But seeing him again is dangerous. His proximity has my body buzzing. Will I really be able to resist him?
Last thing I need is some player breaking my heart. Even if he is rock star bassist Pete Steele.
