Page 90 of Cherry Beats

Without another word, he broke away and took my hand, leading me through the club to a cordoned off area at the very back where the other guys sat around on an L-shaped silver sofa filled with plush cushions.

Several champagne bottles sat in silver buckets filled with ice, as well as a handful of beers and an unopened bottle of Kraken rum and Jack Daniels.

Presley grabbed two beers and passed one to me before he sank into his position in the corner of the L-shaped sofa, throwing his arms over the back of it. I stood over him, in between his parted legs, staring down at his perfect face and sparkling eyes. His chin was raised, and his hair was tucked behind his ears as he looked up at me, waiting patiently.

“I have something to tell you,” I said like it was a secret.

Presley raised a brow.

“I think you’re perfect, too.”

His nostrils twitched, and his head tilted to one side. He was trying to hold back his smile, but it was already hitting his eyes when my own grin broke free, and I found myself laughing softly.

Presley leaned forward and ran his free hand up my thigh slowly. His amused expression had slipped, and in its place were heat, desire, and appreciation.

“Say more things like that,” he whispered roughly, his voice catching in the back of his throat.

I took a step closer until my toes hit the edge of the sofa. His face was right by the zip of my jeans, his attention angled up to me like he was the servant and I was the queen.

Running a hand through his golden wavy hair, I let it slip to the back of his neck, and I gripped it tightly, angling his head back even more and twisting it to the side.

“I want to be brave like you. I want to try and be here for you for as long as you need me. Worrying gets me nowhere. I want to live a little. I don’t want to run.”

Presley pulled me down to straddle his lap, my knees sinking into either side of him on the sofa, my chest pressed against his chest. His free hand squeezed my arse cheek hard, and I flexed my hips into him, feeling the desire pooling in the very pit of my stomach.

I kissed him, despite the rough barks from Big D and the hollering and cheering from Rhett as they gathered around us and made kissing noises in our ears. Presley’s grin grew against mine, our teeth clashing, and he lashed out an arm, hoping to hit someone and missing.

“Fine,” I grumbled playfully, swinging a leg off of Presley to drop down by his side. “I’m off. I’m off.” I flipped a middle finger at the guys and sank back into my seat, enjoying the way Presley wrapped a claiming arm around me and let me melt into that leather jacket of his I loved so much.

The night wore on into the early hours of the morning. Presley was attentive, never straying far and always touching me in one way or another. Every time he thought some woman was giving me the side-eye bitch glare, Presley would curl around me, press his lips to mine until the two of us were rolling around on the sofa, not giving a care in the world to the others around us. Each band member along the way had gained the attention of a willing woman, meaning they were less focused on Presley and me. That suited us both just fine.

I was high on life, on Presley, and definitely high from the concoction of rum and beer I’d been drinking the whole time we were there.

The buzz made me think I could do this. It made me believe I could survive this life in his protective bubble. It made me want it more than ever before.

Like this, in the midst of the party and Presley’s arms, it wasn’t so scary at all.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Awoman I can’t trust. At least I know what you are and who I’m dealing with now.”

I spun around on the spot, breaking from my conversation with Hawk while Presley was in the toilets. Standing there in front of me, looking more out of place than even I did, was a guy I’d never met before but recognised instantly from his voice alone.

Dicky Bennett had arrived, and his attention was locked on me. His hair was slicked back, and he wore dark jeans with a white shirt popped open at the collar, and a grey tie loose around his neck.

“Cherry, I assume?” he said sarcastically, raising a brow.

“Yeah. Hey. Hi.” I gripped my beer with both hands, holding it by my chest to try and create some stupid barrier he couldn’t get through. “Dicky, right?”

He blinked slowly. “Right.”

“Listen, I know what you must think of me, and I get it. Honestly, I do.”

“I really don’t think you do.”

I sucked in a breath and let it out in a rush, feeling the heat of my embarrassment turn my cheeks flaming red. “I know I made a deal and then I—”

“… broke it less than ten hours later.”

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