Tempting (Inked Hearts 1)

He downs his usual drink—whiskey on the rocks—in one long swig and pushes himself to his feet.

I follow his lead and finish my cocktail. It's a good drink—clean, crisp vodka and enough of it my head is swimming.

Ethan takes my glass and places it on the table. Then his hands are on my hips and he's pulling my body against his.

He's such a good dancer.

I look up at him. His bright blue eyes are filled with this mix of affection and desire.

It's intoxicating.

I slip my hands under his t-shirt and press my palms against his lower back. "This the kind of place where you'd go to pick up women?"

"What's that matter?"

"It doesn't." I shift my weight between my legs. "Are you going to go back to sleeping around after I leave?"

"Not thinking about what happens after you leave." He drags his fingers through my hair. His palm cups the back of my neck. "Don't want to think about you leaving." He brings his other hand to my hip and pulls me closer. "Let's think about right now."

I want that. I want to be good at it. I hold Ethan close and I match his movements. Kit is dead wrong— guitarists have masterful rhythm. Ethan doesn't miss a beat.

My body against his…

Fuck, I'm on fire. I can't remember the last time I wanted anything this much. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this much.

I reach up to my tiptoes. My lips hover over his ear. "I've been lonely without you."

He presses his cheek against mine as he moves in to whisper. "You could find another guy in a hot second."

"I know. I started dating that guy, Denny, a few months after school started. He was all right on paper— smart, professional, serious, the kind of guy my mom would like. He loved me. He wanted to marry me, but I turned him down." My cheeks flush. I guess I'm tipsy already, because my inhibitions aren't slowing this down. "He never made my heart flutter the way you did."

He drags his fingers down my chest until they're over my heart. "Is it fluttering now?"

"You can't tell?"

He shakes his head.

"It is." I look into his eyes. I'm not sure what I want to say. I'm not sure I want to say anything. Mostly, I want to get lost in all the affection in his blue eyes.

"Even though I'm a shallow celebrity asshole now?"

"You're not."

"Yeah. I am. I live for the attention."

"On stage." I press my lips together. "You're good on stage. You belong there."

He nods. "But that's not all it is. I screw fans. I talk shit in the tabloids. I pose for Instagram pics with lingerie models. Partly, it's the image. I have to play the bad boy rock star. I know the attention and the adoration is fake, but there's always a split second where it feels real."

"Yeah?"

"Then it's gone and I feel like a shallow asshole. But sometimes I can ride that second into an hour, a day, a week. I get to feel as important as I do when you give me that look."

"What look?"

"Like I'm the only person who understands you." He presses his forehead to mine. "I miss that so bad."

"You're a millionaire." I dig my fingers into his back. I soak in all the heat of his breath on my skin.