I declined, and scrunched my nose up at her. “Really? It didn’t bother you that it was just for some dumb challenge?”
“What? Hell, no. Have you looked around? These are some of the hottest guys at Rodner. Why would I be upset?” She glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, look, Laird is headed this way! I thought we’d kind of had a connection last year, but I didn’t hear from him over the summer, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She lifted her arms and fluffed her hair as if trying to decide on which pose she should strike. “I held hi-hat for him for the show, and, you know…”
I didn’t, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Smith elbowed me, and I swiveled his direction. “What do you think? You want to do this the easy way and get it over with or the hard way?”
“There’s an easy way?”
He smiled, slow and confident. “There’s always an easy way.”
I paused for a beat. “I like easy.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Just remember, I was a gentleman and asked first.”
With that, he swooped. One arm caught me around my waist while the other circled my shoulders, then the whole room tipped as I was bent over backward. I reflexively grabbed ahold of his neck for balance. “Nice touch,” he murmured.
And then his lips were on mine.
Laird
The stab of white-hot jealousy was so sharp and unexpected, I found myself frozen in the middle of my own fucking party. All around me, people were flirting, laughing, drinking.
And I was stuck, my legs and feet useless beneath me, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
Topher, the drumline’s resident hipster, bumped into my side and I shifted to the right a step, unable to tear my eyes away from Smith and Reese. From her lips moving under his, and her arms wrapped tight around his neck.
I ripped the bottle of beer from Topher’s hand, ignoring his protest, and chugged it without tasting a drop as I plowed my way through the room. Halfway there, a palm landed on my elbow and I blankly registered a girl calling my name, but I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
Why the fuck were they still kissing?
Would I be out of line if I cut Smith from the auditions on the spot?
I was three steps away when they finally broke apart—although the bastard still had his hands on her waist. My lips pinched in annoyance. As if that little display was enough to truly knock her off balance.
“Woah, Smith.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and I couldn’t suppress the surge of satisfaction that gave me. “What have you been drinking tonight?” She licked her lips. “It actually tastes pretty good.”
He would die.
“Grape lollipop on the way over here. I’m kind of an addict.” Smith must’ve had some tiny measure of self-preservation, because his eyes flickered to me briefly and he dropped his hands. “Better watch out…”
“For what?” Reese laughed, and I couldn’t look away from her long enough to glare a warning at Smith to keep his damn hands to himself or he’d find it mighty fucking hard to play the drums tomorrow.
He glanced at me again warily, but held his stance next to her, close enough their arms were still brushing. “Or else you’ll get addicted too.”
“Bring me one tomorrow. I gotta see what the fuss is all about.”
Nothing. There was absolutely nothing about him to fuss over whatsoever.
I joined their circle and thrust my empty bottle at Smith, catching him solidly in the gut. To his credit, he barely flinched. “Here, NAD. Get rid of this and bring me another cold one.” I purposefully didn’t use his name.
“Sure,” he said slowly, studying the hard set of my jaw. “Reese, Willa, can I get you two anything?”
Willa requested something fruity. Reese declined a drink, but called his name as he started for the kitchen. “Can you find me some more of those Goldfish? I think I accidentally spilled the last few when you—”
“Is your shoulder bothering you?” I interrupted.
She turned and tilted her head at me quizzically.
“You’re rubbing it.” Reese looked down and seemed surprised to find her hand massaging the spot where her neck curved into the slope of her left shoulder.
“Yeah, a little,” she admitted, lowering her arm. “But I’m fine. I took a few Motrin, and I’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
“Want me to take a look at it?” I was already reaching out, my fingers itching for any excuse, no matter how lame, to touch her skin, to see if it felt as soft as I imagined.
She tipped her chin up at me, her expression wary. “Do you ask all the guys that?”
“What?” I screwed up my face. “Fuck, no.”
She stepped back, my fingers denied their goal. And, honestly, I was surprised. Not to sound like a dick, but I didn’t typically have trouble attracting a girl. Usually the issue was dodging the ones I wasn’t interested in.
“Look,” she waited a beat until our eyes connected before continuing, “I don’t want any special treatment from you. I’m just another drummer trying out for the line, like all the other guys.”
Fuck that shit.
On the field, yeah, I was gonna hold her to the same high standard I would any drummer. Hell, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she still got cut, just because the odds weren’t in her favor. But off? She was nuts if she thought the way she looked in those jeans made her blend into the crowd.
No, tonight, she was anything but ordinary. I didn’t get a chance earlier today to study the stubborn angle of her jaw, or the delicate way the tip of her nose turned up just a smidge. With her dark hair out of the way, the creaminess of her neck called to me, begging me to trace its curve with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. And for the first time, I got a good view of her eyes. She didn’t need all the makeup she was wearing. No way they could ever look anything but stunning. Her big, coffee brown irises, dark enough to swallow me whole, flashed with irritation as I stepped closer, edging her in front of me until her back was to my chest.
“But you’re not,” I whispered, dipping my head and deliberately letting my lips graze the shell of her ear.
She shivered, and my cock stirred.
I cupped her shoulders with my palms, my thumbs drifting down between the multitude of bright pink bra straps. I pressed just inside the ridges of her shoulder blades and dug in where I knew she was most likely to have knots from today.
She groaned and tried to jerk away, but I held her in place. Bullseye. “Stay still.” My voice brooked no argument. Using deep, meticulous strokes, I rubbed the tension out of her upper back, gratified when her muscles slowly relaxed beneath me. Her skin was like warm silk under my hands, and when she arched her back like a cat, lolling her head from side to side, a soft moan escaped from her mouth, and I had to stop myself from pressing against the swell of her ass.
I studied the pink bands crossing her back as I worked, wondering how in the hell it came off. I was jumping ahead several steps in my mind, but this feisty girl was making me crazy. She smelled like cherries and I wasn’t sure if it was from her, or the fruity drink I’d seen her gulp down when Marco had joined her. The pads of my thumbs smoothed their way up the tight cords of her neck, and I felt more than heard the hum of satisfaction vibrate through her.
I couldn’t help it. I eased closer, rationalizing it was a crowded room and I was conserving space. She was the perfect height for me, tall for a girl, but still several inches below my six foot three. Kissing her would be easy, her tilting up and me tipping down. No awkward crouching required while she balanced on her toes.
“You know,” Willa said, rolling her shoulders, “those cymbals get damn heavy.” She sidled my direction and motioned to her own back. “Last year, I always got the worst pain right there—remember?”
No, I didn’t.
In front of me, Reese stiffened, her spine straightening until her ponytail tickled my chin. I tightened my fingers, not ready to let her go yet. I aimed a noncommittal noise at Willa. “It always takes a few weeks to strengthen up.”
Reese pulled away from me, one foot sliding forward to break our connection. “I think I’m good now, thanks,” she murmured. Pink tinged those high cheekbones of hers. “How much do your cymbals weigh?” She directed the question at Willa.