Stories From The 6 Train

“Let me take you home.”

I pause, trying to decide what he means by that. Take me home or take me home? I’m equally unsure what I want him to mean.

A fling with a rock star? Hello, isn’t that every girl’s dream? If not, it’s always been mine. But that’s exactly it. It’s always been a dream. Facing the possibility of it being a reality is a bit crazy. Okay, a whole lot of crazy.

“Sure,” I finally say, because I definitely don’t want to ride the train all alone this late.

We head to the station, and he slings an arm around my neck, singing one of their rock ballads as we walk. I must be half-drunk because I start singing along.

This night has been amazing. I haven’t felt this carefree in a really long time, and I just let loose as I sing.

He stops and stares, just at the top of the steps leading underground.

“What?”

“Your voice. It’s gorgeous.”

I smile shyly. “Thanks.”

I’m not even embarrassed like I normally would be at that kind of statement. I’m just so comfortable with him. It’s crazy. And that’s when I know. I want to do this. I want to spend one wild, crazy night with Evan Anderson. Just because I can.

I take a step closer to him, fisting his shirt in my hands and rising up on my toes so I can reach his ear. “Take me home.”

He has no trouble understanding what I mean when I say it.

He just flashes me that cocky grin that I find so sexy and grabs my hand, leading my down the stairs to the train station.

48

Evan

We’re the only ones in the car of the train. It’s crazy. I’m not in New York a lot, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a common occurrence.

Tatum sits beside me as the train lurches forward, her eyes wide as she studies me. “I don’t do this,” she blurts out.

I laugh. “I know.”

Her eyes narrow now. “How?”

I cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb across the soft skin. “You’re a sweet girl, Tatum. I can tell. I have girls throwing themselves at me constantly. I can tell the difference between a nice girl and a groupie just wanting to say they slept with Evan Anderson.”

I can see her waver, my words making her doubt what she’s doing. “I’m not—”

“I know you’re not. That’s why I’m telling you that.” It almost makes me want to see her home safely and then be on my way. She’s so much better than the girls that throw themselves at me all the fucking time. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to walk away because I also want her more than I’ve ever wanted any of them.

“If you’ve changed your mind,” I say reluctantly, “it’s okay.”

“No,” she interjects quickly, then laughs at herself. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want this.”

Thank fuck.

I flash a grin. “Good. Because I really fucking want this too.”

My words are like a signal giving her permission or something. She turns toward me, straddling me and pushing her hands against my chest until I fall back on the seat. Her legs spread wide, she wedges herself against me, and I groan. I’ve been waiting all night to feel those legs around me.

I run my fingertips slowly up the back of her thighs, cupping her ass and encouraging her to grind against me. It’s almost un

bearable, this need I have to feel her on me. To get rid of these clothes between us and feel her. Hot and wet and ready. And I know she will be.