Caged Collection (Sixth Street Bands #1-5), page 19
Watching Mel while I skewered a piece of broccoli, I dipped it in the Alpine cheese mix. She looked so fucking cute with her mouth open and that pink little tongue sticking out.
“Okay . . . try this.” I blew the steam off the morsel before lifting the fork to her lips.
A smile curved her mouth at the gesture. “You didn’t have to do that. I can blow myself.”
All the blood rushed from my head and the utensil slipped from my grasp, splattering cheese everywhere.
“Shit. Mel . . . I’m sorry.”
Grabbing my napkin, I reached across the table. My hand landed on her breast as I tried to clean the goopy mess.
Her eyes widened, either from my groping or the stain spreading across her blouse.
“Give me that.” Snatching the checkered cloth, she glared at me. “What are you, sixteen? Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m a woman. I can’t possibly blow myself.”
Mel was crazy if she thought that’s where my mind went. It was her pouty lips wrapped around my dick that had me squirming in my seat.
What the hell? I wasn’t that guy. Maybe Logan was rubbing off on me.
Banishing the thought, I averted my gaze while Mel cleaned up. When I turned back, spotting the outline of her nipple peeking through the fabric where the oily glob had been, my mouth went dry.
Kill me now.
“You’re the one with your mind in the gutter,” I lied, my eyes glued to her face. “The fork slipped.”
I almost forgot about our little game until she picked up the chunk of broccoli. She examined the tidbit thoroughly before popping it into her mouth.
“Broccoli and Alpine.” She smiled as she chewed. “I win.”
The chick was competitive in a way that usually turned me off. But anything that came out of that smartass mouth had the opposite effect.
Lacing my fingers behind my head, I reclined in the booth. “Fine. Ask away.” I smiled coyly. “Anything goes.”
Pondering, her eyes drifted to the window in the front of the restaurant where my brand new Ford F250 truck sat parked next to her old Jeep.
“What’s it like to get everything you ever dreamed of?”
Locked in her gaze, I brushed my thumb over a spot of cheese clinging to her cheek.
“What makes you think I get everything I want?” Unable to pull away, my hand lingered on her smooth skin. “Nobody gets everything they want, angel.”
I realized I’d been had when her lips quirked.
“So you’re not going to answer?” Her smile turned triumphant. “Cool, I win again. Close your eyes—my turn.”
Contemplating her next choice, her fork hovered over the half-empty melting pot.
“There’s no way to answer that question,” I groused, but did as she asked. “So, you didn’t really win.”
Humming to herself, she slipped a piece of food between my lips.
“Shit!” I spit the wad in my napkin. “What the fuck was that?”
The picture of innocence, Mel blinked at me. “If you can’t guess, then technically . . .”
“I lose, right?” I grabbed her legs under the table and she yelped. “That was dark chocolate and cheddar cheese on sourdough.” I swallowed hard at the aftertaste. “So, I didn’t lose…and this question is going to be a doozy.”
Leaning back, she kept her knees between my legs. “Shoot.”
“What kind of protein are you studying and why?”
Mel’s smile fell away. “That’s two questions.”
“Okay . . . what kind of protein are you studying?”
When the waiter appeared at our table to fill our glasses, Mel sealed her lips tight, her knees bobbing steadily.
Watching his retreating back, she said quietly, “Right now I’m concentrating on Tau protein.”
Keeping up on the latest medical technology was a secret passion of mine, but the name was unfamiliar. “Tau?”
Nodding, she reached for her glass of iced tea. Her eyes widened as she took a swallow. Searching the room, she zeroed in on our waiter.
Confused, I squeezed her leg. “Mel, what is it?”
Ignoring my question, she called the kid over. He scurried to the table, his mouth falling into a frown at Mel’s scornful expression.
“Is this sweet tea?” she demanded, tension lines etching the corners of her mouth.
“I believe so,” the server stammered. “I—”
“Take it,” she snapped. “I ordered unsweetened.” Softening her tone at his stunned expression, she handed him the glass. “Please . . . if you wouldn’t mind.”
I waited until the kid scrambled for the kitchen to say, “Easy there, guns. It’s just a little sugar.”
Her brows drew together. “Sugar kills.”
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”
She lifted a shoulder and stared into her lap. “Maybe,” she said softly.
Mumbling an apology when the waiter returned, Mel didn’t look up until he left.
“Sorry about that,” she said to me sheepishly. “Free question—anything you want to know.”
I raised a brow. “Anything?”
Nodding, her lip disappeared between her teeth as my hand slid higher on her leg.
“Eggs or pancakes?”
She cocked her head. “You mean . . . in general?”
“I mean specifically.” Tracing circles on her jean-clad thigh with my thumb, I smiled. “I’d really like to know what you want me to make you for breakfast in the morning.”
4
Pinning Mel to the cinder block wall in her tiny living room, I kissed her deeply, my fingers creeping under the hem of her blouse. She sighed, the back of her head bumping against the concrete as I palmed her breast.
“Fuck . . . sorry.” My hand disappeared into her blond locks, searching for a lump. “Are you all right?”
The girl had me so revved up I was ready to take her right here, inches from her front door.
Resting her hand on my chest, she laughed softly. “No permanent damage. I’ve got a hard head.”
Mel was hardheaded, all right. And smart. Not to mention sexy as hell.
She slipped out of my arms, heading for the kitchen before I could devour her mouth again. I bit my lip when she ducked her head into the fridge, wiggling her ass as she poked around.
“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water and . . .” She walked back with two bottles of Dasani. “Water.”
“Water’s fine.”
Twisting the cap off the bottle, I looked around the tiny apartment. Mel’s place was as bare bones as it got. Campus housing with concrete walls and worn carpet. Her entire kitchen would fit nicely in the guest bathroom at my house.
Sinking onto the arm of the recliner, Mel snagged her lip between her teeth.
“I’ve never had a one-nighter,” she admitted, her usual confidence wavering. “So you’re going to have to tell me how this goes.”
Gazing around the room, I noted the large calendar on the dining room wall, a neat stack of books on the table below. Farther to the right sat an assortment of colored highlighters, lined up precisely like soldiers waiting to be recruited.
The girl was organized—OCD style—which was refreshing. But the fact that she was already planning for my imminent departure unnerved me.
Closing the gap between us, I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger.
“It goes the way it goes, angel. The only thing set in stone is your breakfast. Eggs, right?”
She looked up, the sparkle in her eyes faint at best. “I’m not expecting you to be here in the morning, Christian. We both know what this is. I’ve heard all the rumors. I’m not naïve, you know?”
I pulled away out of sheer reflex. All night long we were just Christian and Mel. My celebrity was barely mentioned. Hell, she didn’t even pump me for information about the band.
After a moment, I eased onto the chair.
“Really?” Sliding an arm around her waist, I tugged her onto my lap. “What have you heard about me? I’m dying to know.”
Staring at the bottle in her hand, her fingernail skated over the label. “The usual. Oversexed rocker. Never in one place more than a night. That kind of stuff.”
Tucking a finger under her chin, I tilted her face to mine.
“I’ve been in Austin for months, so you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
Her dull expression indicated she saw through my halfhearted attempt to address the rumors. I may have been in the same city, but that didn’t mean I was in the same bed. A Google search would turn up dozens of pictures to prove the point.
Mel nuzzled closer, fighting to keep her smile. “I’m just letting you know that I get it. Guys like you don’t date—they fuck.” Her brows drew together. “And breakfast isn’t usually part of the deal.”
Tightening my grip, my thumb skimmed the smooth skin above the waistband of her jeans. Conversations like this were usually unnecessary. The chicks I hung out with knew the score. Hell, they were fine with it. No truths exchanged beyond the basics: hotel or tour bus, and where should the cab drop you off when we’re finished.
But Mel wasn’t like that. She spent her time in libraries, not waiting behind rope lines hoping to get my attention.
Taking her hand, I blew out an apprehensive breath and then began, “I’ve been on the road for four years. It’s a little hard to plan breakfast when you don’t know what city you’ll be in come morning. But I can’t blame it all on my lifestyle.”
My stomach knotted at the admission. It felt strange to say it out loud. Maybe I was more like my bandmates than I cared to admit.
Prying my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I went on, “From a strictly biological standpoint, you know, attraction fades as soon as the hormone rush is over. Pheromones and all that.”
Chancing a peek at Mel’s face, I found her nodding in agreement, her green eyes glued to my face. If anyone understood chemicals it was the beautiful little geek on my lap.
I traced a finger over the curve of her jaw, smiling. “I’m not saying I’m opposed to a repeat performance. I just don’t believe in making promises I can’t keep.”
Mel’s gaze slid from mine as she mulled over my declaration. Despite the passionate kiss at the door, she wasn’t a sure thing. Mel could ask me to leave. Hell, she might.
The realization hit me in the chest like a five hundred pound boulder as she shoved to her feet.
Hand on her hip, she studied me for a long moment.
“But you will be making me breakfast . . . is that what I’m hearing?”
Not quite a question, but a statement of fact. There would be no pre-dawn walks of shame with this girl.
“You can bet on it, angel.”
Surprised at how quickly the answer flew from my lips, I pushed off the chair.
Intent on capturing Mel’s mouth, I was surprised when she linked our fingers and said breezily, “Cool. Now that we got that out of the way, I think I’ll take you to bed.”
She was taking me to bed.
Maybe I should have invited her to my place and shown her who was really in charge.
I scoffed at the thought as Mel led me through the dark apartment. Taking girls to my place was on the top of my “never do” list. The one and only time I had, the crazy chick showed up the following day with an overnight bag.
My solid “no” on the subject turned to a definite “maybe” in the ten feet it took to reach Mel’s room.
Releasing my hand, she scampered around, gathering clothes from the floor and the bed.
“Sorry,” she said as she dumped the pile on the chair in front of her desk. “I didn’t expect any company.”
Her statement thrilled me, though I wasn’t sure why. Mel didn’t seem to share in my delight. Slumping on the corner of the mattress, a pink flush stained her cheeks as she looked around at the mess. Obviously the control she exercised in the rest of her life didn’t extend to her bedroom.
Attempting to lighten the mood, I fingered the mouse ears peeking out from under some papers on her nightstand. The same mouse ears she wore the day we met.
“Maid’s day off?” I joked.
She let out a staggered breath.
“I am the maid.” Her eyes widened and then she quickly amended, “Not here, of course. But it’s one of the many glamorous jobs I’ve held in the past few years.”
“A maid, huh?” Nudging her onto her back, my mouth dropped to her ear as I fished the button of her jeans through the hole. “Please tell me you’ve got some little see-through uniform around here and a pink feather duster.”
Molding her palms to my shoulders, her thumb glided back and forth over my collarbone. “I think they’d frown on that at the nursing home.”
Nursing home . . .
A burger joint and a nursing home. The only job I ever had before we started the band was helping my dad with his lesson plans when I was in high school.
Sliding next to her, I propped up on my elbow, appraising her profile. “Tough gig, huh—working your way through school?”
“Not really.” She lifted a shoulder. “All this is paid for through my scholarship. I’m actually really lucky.”
Sadness dimmed the sparkle in her eyes when she swung her gaze to mine, belying her assertion.
I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip, removing it from the prison of her teeth. “So, you don’t have to work?”
“The scholarship doesn’t cover everything.” Her eyes darted away again. “I have other expenses.”
Glimpsing this softer side of Mel made me want her that much more. I wanted to be inside her. To feel every part of her. But I didn’t want to push.
Caressing her stomach, I kept my hand in the “PG” zone as I pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth. Mel responded by reaching for my belt. Her brows drew together when I caught her wrist.
Smiling, I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles.
“You first, sweetheart.”
Burying my face in the crook of her neck as I unzipped her pants, I breathed in her autumn scent. As I hooked my fingers into the sides of her jeans, a random thought popped into my head.
Rising to my knees to slide the denim over her hips, I asked, “When do you graduate?”
A smile broke like dawn, lighting her whole face.
“December fifth.” She beamed. “Best Christmas present I could ever ask for.”
Out of nowhere, a twinge of regret echoed in my chest. “That’s awesome, Mel. Really.”
Lost in thought, I shoved to my feet and began to undress. I felt her eyes on me as I unlaced my boots, so I cut my gaze to hers.
“What is it?” Defensiveness crept into my tone.
The girl had me off balance, like maybe she’d decide I wasn’t her type. I chuckled inwardly at the thought, because I wasn’t her type.
Mel rolled onto her side. Propping on her elbow, she rested her chin on her upturned palm. “Did you ever think about going to college?”
Dragging my T-shirt over my head, the twinge of regret in my chest grew more insistent. I’d spent one semester at UT, out of respect for my father. But there was no way I was getting into that with Mel.
Clutching the foil packet I’d retrieved from my wallet, I eased her onto her back, using my body weight to press her into the mattress.
“How do you know I didn’t go to college?” I fiddled with a lock of her hair. “Is it that obvious?”
I refused to look away, even though I knew the answer would be in her eyes, regardless of what she said.
“No. I just thought . . . with your career, I assumed—”
“You assumed right.” I brushed a feather light kiss to her nose. “I had to choose between school and music.”
“You chose right.” A smile curved her mouth as she ran her thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re a brilliant musician. And you can always go back to school.”
Unable to hide my surprise, I rose with my palms planted on either side of her face.
“You like Caged?” I lifted a skeptical brow when she nodded. “I don’t believe it. Name one song. And not that damn ballad that crossed over to the pop charts.”
Rolling her eyes, she sighed in mock irritation. “‘Devour.’ Third cut, second CD.” She raised a brow of her own. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.”
For whatever reason, it was important to me, knowing that Mel appreciated my music. I realized I was staring down at her with a goofy smile when she laid her palm against the tattoo of the lion’s head on my chest.
“This is the cover art from the first CD, right?”
When I nodded, Mel pressed her lips to the ink. My fingers slid into her silky hair, holding her against me for a fraction of a second longer than I should.
Dropping back onto the pillows, Mel traced her fingertips over the intricate design, frowning. “I wish my tattoo was this cool.”
Of all people, I should know better than to judge a book by its cover. Still, a little teasing seemed to be in order.
“You have a tattoo?” She nodded, but I didn’t let up. “I call bullshit. You’re going to have to show me.”
She nudged me off, and I slid down beside her.
Whipping the blouse over her head, she turned on her side. Gathering her hair on top of her head to expose her neck, she looked over her shoulder and said, “It’s—”
“Euler’s Identity.” With a smile, I traced the set of numbers with my index finger.
Flipping around to face me, genuine surprise coated her features. “Impressive. Most people think it’s just a bunch of numbers.”
Euler’s Identity, in all its complexity, could never be described as a “bunch of numbers.” Any more than Shakespeare’s sonnets could be likened to “a bunch of words.” Euler’s Identity was mathematical beauty.
Spoken like the son of a mathematician.
A dark cloud threatened in the distance as I thought of my father. Rather than wallow under the weight of his disappointment, I unfastened Mel’s bra and then coaxed her onto her back so I could feast on her rose tinted nipples.
“The tattoo is perfect. Like these.” Laving one pebbled tip, I rolled the other between my thumb and forefinger.
