Starting From Here (Starting from 3) - Page 60

He swatted Ky away. “That was the only time I’ve ever kissed a girl. I wanted it to look real. And…I was wasted.”

“Liar. You never get wasted. What’s in that cup?”

“Water.”

“I’ll get you a real drink. Char, you want a refill?” Ky asked.

Charlie looked up from his phone and shivered. “Yes, but I’ll go with you. It’s cold out h-here. By the way, there’s already a buzz online. I think it’s a good th-thing. Just no more kissing…until I tell you to.”

Everyone busted up laughing as Ky steered Charlie toward the open door leading to the great room.

Conversations broke out simultaneously, the way they tended to do when the dynamic shifted. Bobby J followed Charlie and Ky inside while the rest of us clung to the heat lamp and chatted. I sipped my gin and tonic, lazily observing the scene…the twinkling city lights, the animated conversations indoors and out.

It was a good idea to be friendly with the folks you were about to travel with for a month. I’d spent the night mingling…flitting from one group to the next without landing anywhere in particular.

I talked with our temp drummer, Frank, and his wife for a while, then compared tats with a sound guy named Adam who was liberally covered in ink and piercings. I ended up laughing my ass off as Sebastian and Gray regaled us with “dad” stories while Charlie tossed in alternative context and pretended to be irked. I avoided Justin on the off chance he’d bring up the kiss. And until now, I’d avoided Tegan too.

Probably for the same reason.

I set my cup on a side table and wandered to the far side of the pool mostly hidden in shadow. A perfect spot to soak in the atmosphere, unwind, and—

“So…how’s your night going?”

I chuckled. “Better than yours, I bet.”

Tegan snorted. “This is going to be harder than I thought. I didn’t plan that, you know.”

“I know. That kind of makes it sweeter.”

“Sweeter? Fuck sweet. It was hot.” He made a funny face. “It wasn’t smart, but I’m not sorry.”

“Me either.”

We stared at the city below us for a long moment.

After a minute or two, Tegan broke the silence. “What are you doing tonight?”

I gave him a lopsided smile. “Well, it’s like three a.m. now, so…I’m going home soon.”

“Need a ride?”

“You rode your motorcycle,” I reminded him.

“True. We can borrow one of Gray’s helmets and sneak out from the garage.”

“No good-byes?” I gestured toward the house.

“Fuck, no. It’s late, and no one’s going to notice us. C’mon.”

We clung to the shadows as we made our way along the side of the house to the garage. Tegan tapped a code on the panel next to the door, then motioned for me to enter. Using the flashlight on his cell, he guided me to the neat row of motorcycles parked next to a Porsche.

“Damn.”

“I know, right? This is the sexier version of the bike section in my parents’ garage. Here. Take this one.” Tegan handed over a helmet and inclined his head. “Let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, I was flying down Sunset Boulevard on the back of Tegan’s Harley with my arms on his hips and my thighs hugging his. The streets were empty; we had the city to ourselves. The familiar neon lights and billboards zipped by, and the air was crisp and cold. I huddled closer to him for warmth as he leaned into turns.

He pulled to the curb in front of my condo and cut the engine. A light film of mist clung to the hedges lining the sidewalk, giving the quiet street a spooky glow.

I removed the helmet as I climbed off the bike. “Are you coming inside?”

Tegan inclined his head and smiled. “Are you inviting me?”

“Yeah.”

I led him along the short path to my condo, opened the door quickly, and motioned him inside. I unzipped my jacket and draped it over an armchair in the living room before facing Tegan, who was busy taking in the surroundings. If it wasn’t obscenely late, I might have explained that I had nothing to do with the magazine-worthy decor or offered him something to drink. Okay, I could do that.

“Want some water or beer or—”

He stared at my mouth, then met my gaze. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

We didn’t move. We just stared at each other.

“What do you want?” My voice was low and gravelly, and every nerve in my body hummed on high alert. My heart skipped every other beat. My pulse raced.

“You. I want you,” he said, stepping into my space.

“Yes.”

So, here’s how things usually worked. We’d lock eyes, silently communicate mutual horniness, and immediately tear at each other’s clothes in a manic quest to get to skin as fast as fucking possible.

That wasn’t happening tonight.

Tegan caressed my cheek, then cupped my chin as he gazed into my eyes. He traced my jaw with a featherlight touch. I parted my lips when he leaned in, expecting a feverish kiss. He brushed his nose against mine instead, resting one hand low on my hip and slipping the other around my waist. We stood in my semidark living room like dance partners at the prom waiting for the music to begin. It was really fucking…nice.

Tags: Lane Hayes Starting from Romance
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