Page 52 of Fire
I am not a player. Or at least by my definition, I’m not. Since I lost my virginity to Sara Silva in the back of my Land Rover in eleventh grade, I’ve been with a decent number of women. However, I’m not the kind of person who spends every night trolling apps for someone new. I enjoy spontaneity, and I’ve never had issues finding a willing partner when I desire it.
I’ve just never wanted anything beyond a night or two.
Until her.
I continue to stare at the door. If I don’t do something soon, like fucking knock on it, someone is gonna walk down the hall and see me standing here. And since this whole floor is nothingbut VIP suites for the band, their assistants, and Ridge, I’m bound to get hell for it.
I sigh. This is usually around the time when I would call myself out for being a pussy, but my sisters told me I’m not allowed to use that word when referencing anything weak, because, in their words,the pussy is powerful.
They’re not wrong.
The way Zara’s pussy strangled my cock when she came all over it…
My hand flies up to the door, and suddenly I’m knocking.
Mission accomplished.
I guess I just needed to find the right kind of motivation.
A few seconds later, I hear footsteps and then a lock turns. The door opens just enough for me to see her face. I awkwardly wave. “Hi.”
A warm smile spreads across her face as she pushes the door wider. “Hi.” She’s dressed casually today as well, in jean shorts and a gray V-neck T-shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a long braid over her shoulder.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
When I’m checking her out, I happen to notice the computer, paperback, and plush throw she has laid across her neatly made bed. She has the same stunning view of the river as I do, but I’m beginning to wonder if that’s all she’s seen of this beautiful city.
“Are you planning on staying in all day?” I ask, gesturing to the introvert’s starter pack she’s got going on over there. God, there are even snacks.
She glances back, revealing a hint of embarrassment. “I…Well, I mean…” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. I already know what she was going to say.
She didn’t want to go alone.
Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, then.
“Grab your purse,” I tell her, before waving a hand toward the bed. “This is all just too depressing. I’m taking you out.”
“You don’t have to.” She begins to argue. “I don’t want to ruin your plans.”
“Cupid, youaremy plans. Why do you think I’m here?” She stares at me as if she can’t decide whether to kiss me or cry. Not wanting to risk tears, I forge ahead. “Now, get a move on! We have lots to see.”
Chapter Sixteen
HENDRIX
We start just outside the hotel where we are staying at the Four Seasons, which is situated along the Mississippi River. It’s a typical day in May for New Orleans, hot and humid, but thankfully not unbearable, and a slight breeze helps cool everything down.
Or at least it should.
But walking next to Zara seems to raise the temperature at least ten degrees. Because the heat between us is off the charts. Every time her hand brushes against mine, I feel my pulse spike. I want to hold her hand, but I don’t know if that’s weird or even if we’re there yet.
Zander, my self-proclaimed dating guide, said physical touch is important, especially outside of the bedroom. It creates intimacy and trust.
Big words coming from a guy whose whole relationship was based on a lie. Zander met Elena right after he signed an NDA with Manic. He was required to keep it quiet until the band decided to make the announcement. For the first few weeks of their courtship, she had no idea she was falling for an up-and-coming rock star.
As we make our way to the French Quarter, we grab iced coffee and chai from a street vendor and pass by a musician playing jazz on the street. I drop a twenty in his case. On the next block, there’s a guitarist.
Another twenty goes in his case.
