Page 81 of Dirty Like Me
I kept using the excuse that I was tired from the crazy pace of life on the road so I could go to sleep before he got any ideas about groping me. Which was kind of true—I was always ready to fall into bed by the end of the night, but I was definitely avoiding another steamy make out in private, because there was no way in hell I could stop him if the man started licking my nipples again.
So far he’d been a gentleman about it, keeping his hands on his side of the bed and letting me sleep, which was just kind of making it worse. Maybe this would be easier if he got pushy and gave me a reason to tell him to fuck off. Then I’d have a convenient excuse to run away and avoid the whole problem.
I was pretty good at avoiding things. It was kind of my go-to survival mechanism.
But I didn’t want to run away from Jesse. I wanted to stay, even though I was on the verge of going batshit with desire. He was totally right; I was upset that he hadn’t fucked me yet. I was upset that if I gave in and fucked him, I’d regret it. I was upset that this couldn’t just be easy, and I was upset with myself for making it so hard. I was annoyed as fuck that he was still getting his flirt on with his groupies night and day, right in front of me. I had epic blue clit, I had no idea how the guy felt about me other than, apparently, finding me fuckable, and I was terrified of letting myself get carried away over the man’s awesomeness and ending up with my heart smashed all to hell.
And now he was upset because some dude in a bar bought me a drink?
Seriously. I couldn’t even begin to get a read on the man. Though I could admit to myself that seeing him all bent out of shape about it did give me a little glimmer of hope that he actuallylikedhaving me around, and not just because of whatever I was doing for his career.
The problem was I still didn’t know what he wanted, other than for me to do my job, and maybe do him on the side.
Was he thinking that through, though? Like what was going to happenafterhe fucked me?
And after the tour ended?
Shit.
I pushed my unfinished plate away. I couldn’t even eat when I fast-forwarded to that. Because the truth was I had no idea how I was going to say goodbye to Jesse Mayes.
◊◊◊
I spent the rest of the day shopping and sketching while Jesse went to a couple of interviews. I had dinner with some of the guys at the hotel, then everyone piled onto the buses and we spent the evening on the road. We were headed to Florida for a couple of shows, and things between Jesse and I seemed okay. He was pretty quiet, a little reserved, but he sat next to me and kept giving me his smoldering fuck-me eyes, so I was pretty sure things were about as normal as ever between us, if not still a little tense.
By now I’d realized that things were always going to be a little tense, unless we tore off each other’s clothes and fucked for about a day and a half. Which I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about doing. And every time Jesse did something remotely nice, like passed me a bottle of water or asked if I wanted something to eat or told Pepper to shut up when I was trying to get a word in, I wanted him just a little more.
Was it possible to overdose on desire? Like some kind of hormonal overload that makes you pass out or something? Because every time I thought I’d reached that place where I wanted Jesse Mayes more than it was possible to want anyone or anything, he managed to turn my crank just a little more.
What a lovely, fucked up kind of torture.
I texted Devi to tell her,My vagina is in love, and we haven’t even done it yet.
And my best friend texted back,That’s one stupid vagina.
Which made me laugh so hard I almost cried, and everyone looked at me and wanted to know what was so fucking funny. Especially Jesse.
But luckily the guys were kind of distracted.
Pepper had crashed our bus to jump on Jesse and Mick and Raf, literally, going on and on about his birthday. Apparently it was two nights ago but we hadn’t celebrated sufficiently for his liking, and now that we had the night off, the man wanted to party.
The guys finally gave in and we rerouted both buses to Savannah, even though we were supposed to drive all the way to Tampa. The drinking started, posthaste, but I noticed Jesse stuck with water, and I opted to sip rather than partake of the shots the guys passed around. They were happily buzzed by the time we rolled into the club. All fifteen of us. That’s thirteen half-drunk rock ’n’ rollers, Jesse and me.
The herd immediately dispersed in search of women, except for the married guys, who took to the VIP area with Jesse and I. Pepper was a one-man gong show; apparently drumming his ass off almost every night wasn’t enough to let off all his steam. He was so fucking happy we were celebrating his thirtieth, he was making everyone else happy. Including Jesse. And it was so good to see that sparkle in Jesse’s eyes again, his teeth showing when he grinned. He held my hand and I snuggled against him, because I was damn good at my job. And also, because he was Jesse. And when we were out, being seen, it was easy.
It was when we were alone and the lines weren’t so clearly drawn that things got hard.
◊◊◊
Hours later, I stumbled off the dance floor, my legs kinda rubbery from dancing so much. I collapsed next to Jesse and he wrapped his arm around me, smiling.
“Having fun?”
I lifted my sweat-damp hair off my neck. “Oh, yeah. Pepper is off the hook.” Actually, I was pretty sure he was about to lose his pants and get us all kicked out. “That guy makes me laugh.” My smile froze and I bit my lip a little, remembering the conversation we’d had about me flirting with that dude last night.
“He’s a one-man riot,” Jesse agreed. “If Dylan wasn’t ten times the drummer he is, I’d want him for Dirty. But don’t tell him I said that.” Then he winked, and I knew we were okay. No drunken arguments tonight, no going to bed mad. I also noticed he was still sipping a water. I hadn’t seen him drink all night.
Which was cool. I appreciated that he had restraint. In all areas.
