is.”
Fill the awkward silence, idiot , a voice in her head commanded. “Um, so how’d you get to the party so fast?” she asked.
Trace’s eyes tightened. “Uh, Red, as you called her, gave me a tour of the campus. I’d just dropped her off at her dorm when Pauly forwarded your text. I was actually just about to pass by there.”
“Oh, well um, I’m glad.” Oh crap, that made it sound like she was glad he wasn’t with Red. Which she was. But no need for him to know that. “I mean, I’m glad you happened to be nearby. Not that I wasn’t okay or anything, but I didn’t exactly know how to get back to the bus.”
“Okay,” he said evenly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that had her backing up.
Okay, Kylie, just say what you came to say and freaking leave already. “Why did he send my text to you?”
Trace smiled. “Probably because I speak fluent drunk in person and on text, and he knew I was on campus.”
Jesus. Her text had alerted Pauly that she was drinking. Great. “Oh. Was it that bad?”
He didn’t answer her question, just slid his phone off the night table and touched the screen a few times. Before Kylie had time to figure out what he was doing, he handed it to her.
The jumble of letters looked nothing like what Kylie had meant to send. “I told Pauly I didn’t need a new phone.” Even though she kind of did since her refurbished hand-me-down from Lulu barely held a charge. The man had insisted, saying they would take it out of her tour pay. She suspected he was lying.
Trace smirked at her. “Uh huh, ‘cause the phone made you drink or what?”
“You know, I’m starting to think you should’ve been a comedian.”
“Maybe in my next life,” Trace said with a sad smile that she couldn’t understand. “Is that what you came to tell me?”
“Not exactly.”
Trace cleared his throat and Kylie wondered how many girls he’d had in that huge bed. At least one that she knew of—the American Idol chick. Kylie had Googled her. Mia Montgomery. She was pretty. Okay, gorgeous. The official release said she had left the tour for personal reasons. Well, Pauly seemed to know exactly what had happened, so it wasn’t that personal after all.
“It’s late, sorry. I should get back to my room.” Kylie reached back for the door handle.
“Kylie?” Trace’s deep voice sent a spasm vibrating up her spine. She froze with her fingers on the handle.
“Yeah?”
“You’re welcome, and don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”
It took her a few seconds to figure out if Trace was being genuinely sweet or irritatingly condescending. His eyes were warm but his mouth twitched. Hmm.
She was just about to say goodnight when he took a step and lessened the distance between them. She thought he’d stop when he got within arm’s reach, but he kept coming. He didn’t stop until she was backed against his door and they were practically touching.
His handsome face merely inches from hers, a faint hint of his trademark bourbon scent teased her. Despite her previous resolution to never touch alcohol again, she was overwhelmed by the desire to taste the liquor on his lips. “Kylie, if I ever again see you in a place like The Player’s Club, or alone in a bedroom with a musician who wants nothing more than to fuck you, then I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”
She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shrink away from the intensity of his stare. “Does right now count as being alone in a bedroom with a musician who wants to fuck me?”
Her words surprised them both. Trace leaned back just slightly. She watched as his eyes widened and then narrowed. “Yes, it does. Which is why you should run back to your room as fast as those pretty little legs can carry you. And lock the goddamned door.”
Adrenaline surged hot and powerful through her entire body. Heat flooded between her thighs, weakening her knees. Biting back a surprised whimper, she refused to break eye
Fill the awkward silence, idiot , a voice in her head commanded. “Um, so how’d you get to the party so fast?” she asked.
Trace’s eyes tightened. “Uh, Red, as you called her, gave me a tour of the campus. I’d just dropped her off at her dorm when Pauly forwarded your text. I was actually just about to pass by there.”
“Oh, well um, I’m glad.” Oh crap, that made it sound like she was glad he wasn’t with Red. Which she was. But no need for him to know that. “I mean, I’m glad you happened to be nearby. Not that I wasn’t okay or anything, but I didn’t exactly know how to get back to the bus.”
“Okay,” he said evenly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that had her backing up.
Okay, Kylie, just say what you came to say and freaking leave already. “Why did he send my text to you?”
Trace smiled. “Probably because I speak fluent drunk in person and on text, and he knew I was on campus.”
Jesus. Her text had alerted Pauly that she was drinking. Great. “Oh. Was it that bad?”
He didn’t answer her question, just slid his phone off the night table and touched the screen a few times. Before Kylie had time to figure out what he was doing, he handed it to her.
The jumble of letters looked nothing like what Kylie had meant to send. “I told Pauly I didn’t need a new phone.” Even though she kind of did since her refurbished hand-me-down from Lulu barely held a charge. The man had insisted, saying they would take it out of her tour pay. She suspected he was lying.
Trace smirked at her. “Uh huh, ‘cause the phone made you drink or what?”
“You know, I’m starting to think you should’ve been a comedian.”
“Maybe in my next life,” Trace said with a sad smile that she couldn’t understand. “Is that what you came to tell me?”
“Not exactly.”
Trace cleared his throat and Kylie wondered how many girls he’d had in that huge bed. At least one that she knew of—the American Idol chick. Kylie had Googled her. Mia Montgomery. She was pretty. Okay, gorgeous. The official release said she had left the tour for personal reasons. Well, Pauly seemed to know exactly what had happened, so it wasn’t that personal after all.
“It’s late, sorry. I should get back to my room.” Kylie reached back for the door handle.
“Kylie?” Trace’s deep voice sent a spasm vibrating up her spine. She froze with her fingers on the handle.
“Yeah?”
“You’re welcome, and don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”
It took her a few seconds to figure out if Trace was being genuinely sweet or irritatingly condescending. His eyes were warm but his mouth twitched. Hmm.
She was just about to say goodnight when he took a step and lessened the distance between them. She thought he’d stop when he got within arm’s reach, but he kept coming. He didn’t stop until she was backed against his door and they were practically touching.
His handsome face merely inches from hers, a faint hint of his trademark bourbon scent teased her. Despite her previous resolution to never touch alcohol again, she was overwhelmed by the desire to taste the liquor on his lips. “Kylie, if I ever again see you in a place like The Player’s Club, or alone in a bedroom with a musician who wants nothing more than to fuck you, then I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”
She swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shrink away from the intensity of his stare. “Does right now count as being alone in a bedroom with a musician who wants to fuck me?”
Her words surprised them both. Trace leaned back just slightly. She watched as his eyes widened and then narrowed. “Yes, it does. Which is why you should run back to your room as fast as those pretty little legs can carry you. And lock the goddamned door.”
Adrenaline surged hot and powerful through her entire body. Heat flooded between her thighs, weakening her knees. Biting back a surprised whimper, she refused to break eye
Similar Books
