Page 51 of Fake Rocks
“Hmm, so your boyfriend likes the slutty Saff look?” She raised her eyebrows. “Why am I surprised? Everyone likes the slutty Saff look.”
I threw a discarded shoe at her, narrowing missing hitting her with the heel. “Stop it. Tris isn’t like the other guys I’ve hooked up with.”
“Yes, you met him a uni, you’ve known him for ages, it was fate you came into contact again.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard the story and I still don’t buy it. I’ve been racking my brains to try to remember him from college, but I’m coming up with nothing.”
I avoided looking at her. She was my best friend, she ought to know the truth. I hesitated, wondering whether to say anything. Before I could speak, there was a knock on the door.
“Are you decent? I wondered if you fancied lunch?” Tris’ head poked into the room. He clocked me in the outfit in the flesh and his eyes widened. “You’re really going to wear that tonight?”
“Too nervous to eat, but some coffee would be good. And yes, I’m really going to wear this tonight.” I faced Tris, hands on my hips, striking a sexy front woman pose. His pupils dilated as he shook his head.
“I’m not sure I can allow you to go out looking like that.”
“You’re the one I’ll be going home with.” I approached him, grabbing his hands and smoothing them over the material of my shorts. “And at least you won’t have too many clothes to take off when we finally get here.”
“Ugh, stop it, you two. Jealous spinster here.” Rosie pretended to stick her fingers down her throat, making a vomiting noise.
Tris’ fingers traced the waistband of my shorts, the feel of his rough skin stroking mine causing my groin to tighten. If only Rosie weren’t there, I’d have him on the bed in a flash.
“Promise me you’ll keep the boots on later,” he whispered, kissing me on the sweet spot on my neck behind my ear.
I almost dissolved there and then. Tris squeezed my arse, gave me a lingering kiss on the mouth then headed out of the room. Legs shaking from the sensations flooding through me, not to mention the ridiculously high heels, I sank down onto the bed.
“We have the right outfit then,” said Rosie, a satisfied smile on her face. “Who said I can’t cut it as a stylist?”
28
Tris
Fuck, Saff was hot.
Like molten lava hot.
If I hadn’t have left the room when I did, God knows what would have happened. I would have shoved Rosie out of the way and gone for it. My dick swelled painfully against my fly. Seriously, I wondered if Saff had any idea of how much she turned me on.
Now I had to go back to work with my uncle with an erection I couldn’t do anything about.
She was a fucking liability.
The protective instinct in me kicked in big time when we arrived at The Windmill later that evening.
Saff had worn the outfit Rosie had picked for her and layered a long dress coat over the top, to at least keep some semblance of decency. Her hair was teased into a tousled, bedhead style, and her makeup was something else. Dark, dark, eyes with black kohl outlining them, and a glossy burgundy lip gloss. She looking absolutely stunning and all male eyes—and maybe a few female eyes too—in the room were on her.
Darren, Barney and Tommo were setting up the equipment with the help of a couple of the guys who were part of the venue’s production crew.
We stood at the bar, waiting for Jonas to arrive.
A couple of lads, already worse for wear, came up to us.
“Wow, this band’s got seriously hot groupies,” one of them slurred, breathing beer fumes all over Saff.
“Which one of them are you shagging?” the second asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the others.
“Do you even know anything about who’s playing tonight?” I chipped in. “She’s not with the band, sheisthe band.”
The two guys stared her up and down. “Yeah, right.”
The taller of the pair moved closer, pulling aside Saff’s dress coat, whistling between his teeth as he leered at her breasts. “Does this come off? Those tits are something else.”
