“I didn’t mean to,” he murmurs back.
His words drape over my shoulders and settle there like a gossamer cape, woven of magic and mystery. Nikolai couldn’t help himself either. This isn’t something he’s doing to me, but rather something we’re in together.
8
Nikolai
As I drive the trio back to their hotel, I sense Chelle’s stiffness return. She warmed up by the end of the show, not just to me, but to the guys and the band.
The Storytellers never put on a better show, and Chelle’s skateboarding stars loved it. Whether it was the alcohol talking, or the fact that Flynn recognized them, and they felt famous, I couldn’t be sure, but they mingled during the band’s break, and by the time Rue’s closed for the night, Chelle was brokering their drunken promises to use the Storyteller’s music on their Youtube videos in some kind of collaboration
Guessing at her anxiety now that the night’s almost over, I play ambassador.
“So are you guys going to sign on with Chelle and her boss, or were you just dicking her around tonight?”
A couple of the guys chuckle softly.
“No, we’ll sign,” Randy says easily. “I mean, we were dicking around, but yeah. Chelle, you’re cool. You have my trust.”
“Yeah, totally,” Tiny agrees.
“Me too,” Boner says.
“Thanks. That’s great.” Relief pours from Chelle. I see the first genuine smile on her face, and it’s heart-stopping. “You’ll come by tomorrow to sign the papers?”
“Yep. We’ll be there. But we want to work with you not your stuffy boss, yeah?” Randy says.
“Okay.” Chelle’s smile is even bigger. “You might need to tell her that for me, okay?”
“Oh, we will,” Randy swears.
I pull into the circle drive of their hotel and climb out to do their fist-bumping thing, but now they’re all about man-hugs, slapping my back and breathing vodka in my face while they tell me what a great time they had.
When they go to give Chelle big hugs, I warn, “Grope my girlfriend, and I’ll break all your fingers.”
A chorus of good-natured whoa and whoos goes up, and they opt to shake her hand instead, which is good, because I wasn’t fucking joking.
She may not be my girlfriend, but no one’s going to get fresh with her on my watch.
In fact, I may have to appoint myself her permanent bodyguard if she’s taking on these clowns as her personal clients.
“Thank you. You were great,” Chelle says when we get back in the SUV.
I smile but don’t answer. I like making her happy. I like making her come even more.
When I pull up to her place, I find a parking spot and turn off the engine.
Chelle goes rigid again. “You're not coming up with me because this wasn't a real date,” she says.
I can’t stand the idea of sex as a transaction, so I definitely wasn’t thinking she owed me, but my dick has been hard ever since she ground that little ass over my lap and let me fuck her with my fingers, so I’m not quite ready to give up.
“Right, it wasn’t a date, it was a favor.” I put a suggestive note in my voice and twist to face her. Her hand is on the door handle, but she hasn’t pulled it yet. “Hmm. I'll add it to what you owe me then.” Remembering the price I exacted for the last favor I gave, I reach for her nape and tug her mouth to mine.
Her breath tastes like cinnamon mints, and her lips are as willing as her tight little body was back at Rue’s. I kiss her slowly, savoring the softness of her mouth, the tentative movement of her tongue between my lips.
When I end it, her eyes are dilated. She still doesn’t open the door. “Was that part of what I owe you?”
“No, that was me taking what I want,” I admit.
“What do I owe you?”
“Oh, you'll know when I call it in.” My voice sounds deeper than usual. I have to shift to rearrange my junk.
“You don't want to call it in tonight?” Her voice is husky.
I go still as my lust collides with the need to retain a little fucking pride.
I cock my head. “So it's okay for me to come up if it's a transaction but not if it's a date?”
She goes still. Her lips part, but she has no answer for that.
It’s not entirely fair. She may have changed her mind because of the kiss, not because I’m not worthy, but I don’t like feeling like my dick’s in the wind here.
I tip my head toward the door. “Get out.” I say it lightly to take away the sting.
She blinks. “What?”
“Get out, Chelle, we're done.”
It still takes her a minute before she moves and when she does, there’s dismay in her expression. Her golden eyes are round and sorry. “Okay,” she says as she slides out of the seat and drops to the ground. “Um, bye.”