"I am?"
He nods. "Leaving your ex, leaving your job, being in this restaurant with me. You're not afraid to jump off a fucking cliff."
"Well, when you make it sound so appealing..."
"I'll catch you."
God, how I want him to catch me. I push aside the feelings whirling around my stomach. Leaving my job is enough of a rush. But my growing affection for Mal—fuck, that's a hurricane.
"Logan talked to me."
"Do I want to know?"
"Depends. You get off on guys touching themselves?"
"Hot guys."
His eyes light up as he laughs. "He qualify?"
"He's no Mal, but yeah. He's hot."
"You get off on me touching myself?"
Can't think. Picturing Mal naked, his hand wrapped around his cock.
He chuckles. "I guess that's a yes."
Somehow, I manage to nod.
"He wants your number."
"Who?"
He lets out the same deep chuckle. "Logan."
"Does he?"
Mal smiles. "He wants to bring you in for the next Wicked Beat video."
My heart nearly stops. No. That's not possible. Wicked Beat is a huge band, bigger than Dangerous Noise, bigger than everyone but Maroon 5. "No fucking way."
"Yes fucking way." He's beaming with pride. For me.
"But I haven't even directed your video."
"You've been in this industry how long?" He teases.
"My first internship was two years ago."
"And you haven't realized musicians make bad business decisions yet?"
"Excuse you!" Screw that this is a nice restaurant. I find my cloth napkin, scrunch it in a ball, and toss it at Mal.
He laughs as he catches it. "You're going to regret losing this." He places the napkin in his lap. "That bench is going to be soaked by the time I'm done with you."
My breath catches in my throat. I let out a sound that doesn't even vaguely resemble a word. God, the look in Mal's eyes is demanding and playful at once. And knowing that I'm the one who gets that fun, affectionate side of him—
Right now, there's a softness to his shoulders. Like he can finally relax.