Unconditional
Page 74

Your favorite place: one step from oblivion, two steps from the end.
The back door crashes open again, interrupting my black thoughts. I look up in time to see a woman fly out, tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t see me back here in the shadows, and I watch as she leans back against the wall, trying like hell to pull herself together.
She’s too pretty to be crying, that’s for sure. Her red hair is pinned back, too tight, and she’s wearing a simple black dress that’s cut way too low on the leg and high on the chest for my liking. Still, there’s something innocent in her expression that draws me in, a heartache in her gaze that’s just about the most real, honest thing I’ve seen in years.
I need a distraction, and here the universe just handed her up on a plate.
I stroll out of the dark. “You look like you could use a cigarette,” I drawl.
She startles. “You scared me!” She manages to say, quickly wiping at her face. Her eyes flick over me, and I wait for the look of recognition: that moment when it all clicks into place, and women turn on their flirtatious smiles, angling for a night with the famous rock-star they can boast about to their friends — and the tabloids, come morning light.
But her face doesn’t change. She shakes her head, a lock of that red hair slipping free around her face. “No, thank you,” she murmurs politely. “I don’t smoke.”
“Neither do I,” I give a twisted grin. “Don’t you know these things will kill you?”
Her brow knits, quizzical. “So why do it?”
“Why do we do anything that’s bad for us?” I counter, teasing. “Because we like how it feels, living life on the edge.”
“Speak for yourself,” the woman sighs. “I like it safe. Predictable. Easy.”
Now I’ll be damned if that doesn’t sound like an invitation. I close the distance between us. “That’s a shame,” I murmur, reaching out and brushing the stray lock from her cheek. “Danger would sure look good on you.”
Her mouth drops open at the boldness of my gesture. Our eyes lock, and I see the emotions skitter, clear as day across her face. Shock, confusion, and then — the tell-tale flush of desire. She catches her breath, her chest rising under the cage of black silk, and God, I feel a bolt of lust strike through me. Her lips are perfect, pink; just begging to be kissed.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, but she doesn’t move away. Her eyes are still fixed on me, golden brown, flecked with hazel. I can feel the heat of her breath, My thumb strays to her lip, rubbing gently over their pillowy softness.
“What do you think?” I counter, amused by her innocence. She’s in her twenties, a grown woman, but the way she looks like a deer in headlights tells me, she’s not used to this kind of blatant approach. After years of jaded groupies willing to blow half my entourage to get backstage, it’s a refreshing change, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on all the more.
“I... I don’t know you.” The woman blinks up at me, and I can see her mind working at light-speed trying to make sense of this.
“When was the last time you did something crazy?” I ask, my eyes never leaving hers. I slide my fingers lower, down the pale column of her throat. I feel a shiver echo through her body, responding like lightening to my touch.
A rueful shadow crosses her face. “I don’t do crazy,” she whispers.
Not yet. But I already know, a girl like this would be a miracle in bed. Innocence and sensuality all wrapped up in one tempting package.
The things I could teach her. The moans that delicious mouth would make.
“So try it,” I challenge her, teasing my fingertip lower, across her collarbone, along the high edge of her neckline. “I promise, I won’t tell.”
For a moment, she stays, lost in my gaze. I can see the desire there, the struggle as she decides. Then she looks down, blushing. “You don’t know me. This isn’t... I’m not that kind of girl.”
I stop, stunned. She’s turning me down?
“I’m sorry,” The woman steps around me, heading back towards the door, and as she does, I catch a breath of her perfume. The burst of floral scent hits me like a drug, shooting through my system in a bolt of sweetness.
Suddenly, this isn’t just a playful distraction anymore.
I want her, with a fierce possession that takes me by surprise. I want her, right here against the wall. I want to taste all of her, make her forget the reason she came rushing out here in tears.
I want a moment of that innocence, and all her wide-eyed control.
“Wait,” I order her. And then, before she can say a word of protest, before I can think the better of it, I pull her into my arms, capturing her mouth in a hot, blazing kiss.
Her lips open against mine in an ‘o’ of surprise but I don’t hesitate. I kiss her deeper, teasing her lips apart, wanting to show her the pleasure that awaits her, needing to tempt her to the dark side of life. Her body tenses at the invasion, then, in a blissful surrender, she melts. Her lips yield against mine, her body sways, soft against me.
Damn, her sweetness is more than I ever imagined. Pure heat and joy flooding my system, rushing through my veins in a dark glitter of desire.
More.
I plunge my tongue deeper against hers, drinking her in, drowning in the wet pleasures of her mouth. She lets out a breathy moan, and then we’re stumbling back, hard against the wall. I feel her body, pressed against every inch of me, but it’s not enough. I thread one hand in her silken knot of hair, tugging it loose and yanking her lips closer as her body arches up against mine.