Page 8 of Hot Shot Rock Star
“You want me to ask Hal for the story?”
“Don’t. Leave well enough alone.” She scoffs, her eyes trapping mine. My jaw clenches and I can feel my shoulders bunching. My voice goes dark and low. “He didn’t cancel your contract, did he?”
“No, but—”
“He’s not going to.”
“What did you do to him?” Her eyes are greedy, and her blood lust surprises me for an instant.
“I didn’t touch him.” She pauses a beat, taking this in, believing me because she’s damn good at detecting bullshit.
“You threatened him? What did you say?” She comes up to me, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m not mad. It’s okay. He needed to be put in his place, you were right about that. But—”
“No buts.”
“But I’m not firing him, not leaving the best agency there is for my career, not even to appease your jealous streak—”
“My jealous streak? You know damn well—” She laughs at me, and I hold her arms and step back from her. “No games, Jazzy. He’s a predator and a slime ball. No way am I—”
“Relax.” She puffs out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease about something so... serious. But I do want to emphasize that I need this contract and I can take care of myself.”
“We’re cool. For now,” I say, meaning it. She kisses me because we always kiss at the end of every conversation, whether it’s confrontational or not, but then it usually is. We don’t have too many conversations that don’t end up in some kind of conflict, banter or not. It’s who we are.
And sometimes I wonder how I got here. But not now as her tongue wraps around mine and I pull her hot body against me... until my stomach growls and she pushes back.
“You’re starving, aren’t you?”
“When am I not?”
“For me, or food?”
I laugh and pull her with me out of the room because as much as I want her, I need food, and a lot of it, if I want to perform—on the ice or in bed.
