Page 63 of Dirty Like Me
Yeah, that was the sad truth of it. I could handle this whole pretending thing, knowing he didn’t actually want me. As long as he kept believing I didn’t actually want him either.
But there was no way Ieverwanted to be his groupie du jour.
As I watched him with those girls, it all became so clear.
The guy had just sang an amazing love song about me in front of thousands of people, but the fact of the matter was that the song wasn’t for me. It was forthem.
His fans.
Not long after Jesse was engulfed by the mob, Jude plowed in and scooped him out, a couple of bouncers sending the flustered girls scattering. They hung back, waiting for an opening to dart back in, but more bouncers had appeared and quickly formed a wall around Jesse and the rest of us. The girls were starting to sniff out the other guys, mainly Pepper and Raf, who were pretty famous themselves, if not Jesse Mayes famous. It was kind of exciting, not to mention impressive, the way the club staff worked with Jesse’s crew, really fucking fast, to get us all into the club without any of the musicians losing a shirt.
Just when I thought he might’ve actually forgotten me, Jesse turned, worked his way over to me and gripped my hand. I held on tight as we followed Jude and a couple of bouncers into a raised area behind one of the bars.
My stomach fluttered with nerves, but to my surprise, I kindalikedhow people looked at me when I was with Jesse. I saw a hell of a lot of envy, sure, and some catty spite, but there was also something I didn’t anticipate: appreciation.
Men and even women were checking me out, their gazes moving over my body in the champagne-pink dress. Jesse Mayes’ new girl… out with him in public. I guess itwasa big deal, if you knew who Jesse Mayes was, and right now, it seemed like the entire late-night scene of Montreal did. Everyone within eyesight seemed to be watching us.
But it was late, the party had been going awhile, the music was loud, and by the time our group dropped into the dark booths awaiting us, most of the clubgoers had gone back to dancing, drinking, talking, and making out in the dark.
Jesse had chosen a funky little couch for us to sit on, just the two of us. It had a low half-back and only one arm, on his side, so when he leaned back and pulled me along, I went with him. I relaxed against him, crossing my legs, my side flush against his. His arm was wrapped over the back of the seat behind me and he was warm. No; he was hot, and he smelled so fucking good.
Cinnamon. Leather. Jesse Mayes. These were fast becoming my three favorite scents in the world.
He’d changed into jeans after the show, a distressed white T-shirt, so soft and thin I could make out his nipples beneath the cotton when he moved, and a leather motorcycle jacket, which he’d discarded when we sat down. I would’ve been happy to watch the way his clothes shifted and stretched over his muscles as he talked and laughed with the guys, but it was probably a better idea to focus on something other than his hot body pressed to mine. So I gazed around the club, trying to just absorb the scene and relax.
Jude put a drink in my hand and took a spot in the corner where he stood watching over us with a couple of bouncers. I lifted the drink in thanks. He nodded, then continued his visual sweep of the room. He never strayed far from Jesse, always watching his back. The man didn’t seem to smile all that much but I’d caught the two of them laughing their asses off a few times over some private joke, and seeing their effortless, close connection made me miss Devi something fierce.
I brought the drink to my lips for a taste. It was a SoCo and amaretto on the rocks. With extra cherries.
Jesse had remembered my drink from the bar in Vancouver.
He’d been talking to Brody but when I glanced up, he was watching me. He shifted closer, leaning into me. “How you doing?”
“Great,” I said. “Devi would love this place. I wouldn’t have thought it was your scene, though.”
“Why not?” He sipped his own drink, which by the looks of it was whiskey of some kind. “Good music. Good energy. Beautiful women.” His gaze slipped down from my face, to the low-cut V of my dress.
I felt the answering rush of heat through my body. “A rock star who likes electronic music?”
His dark eyes flickered up to mine. “Also like to look at beautiful women.”
There was that word again.
Beautiful.
I’d tried to let it roll off the first few times, but since he kept using it, I had to wonder. I watched his gaze sweep down to the hemline of my dress, which had crept up my thigh when I crossed my legs. Seriously. Jesse Mayes thought I, Katie Bloom, former skater kid and glasses-wearing wannabe artist, was beautiful?
It wasn’t like he was the first guy to ever say it, but come on.Jesse Mayes?The man was beauty incarnate. Did he not own a mirror? How could anyone look at that face on a daily basis and use the word beautiful to describeme?
It must’ve been the plunging neckline of my sexy dress messing with his whiskey-addled mind.
He set down his drink and placed his hand on my bare knee, his fingers cool from gripping the glass. Sipping my drink, I glanced around at the faces of the band and crew. I kinda felt like we were on a tiny stage here on the couch, like everyone was waiting for some kind of performance to begin. But to my relief, they weren’t actually watching us.
Jesse, though, was definitely watching me.
“Um, tell me something,” I said, looking to distract myself from the hand on my knee and the smoldering look in Jesse’s eyes that at this late hour, in this crazy club lighting, looked a hell of a lot like lust. “Did I get someone fired tonight?”
He stared at me, smoothing his thumb back and forth across my thigh. “Like who?”
