I nodded absently and knocked lightly on the door. “Jet?”
There was no answer, but the knob turned easily under my hand, so I slipped in and silently prayed he wasn’t doing something that would embarrass us both.
The room was dim, lit only by one bare bulb over the sink. He had his back to me and was leaning over the sink staring at himself in the dingy mirror. His gaze snapped up to mine in the dirty glass and there was no misreading the hostility stamped on his handsome face. The anger in his eyes and the light reflecting in his dark hair, along with the twin spikes he had at the top of each ear, made him look like the devil casting judgment.
“What do you want, Ayden?”
That was a loaded question if there ever was one. “I just wanted to see what was wrong with you. You’ve been acting like you’re mad at me all week and I don’t understand why.”
I saw his hands tighten on the edge of the sink and noticed that instead of the usual black polish he wore, he had the middle finger decorated on each hand with a blood red paint that matched my dress.
“Why did you bring that guy to my show?”
The bathroom felt stifling and small. I could sense the intensity of whatever he was feeling, vibrating across my skin. I had never seen him this raw unless he was on stage performing, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“I didn’t bring him. We went to dinner and I was planning on getting dropped off, but he kind of freaked out when he saw everyone running around outside and insisted on coming in with me.
What does that have to do with why you’re acting like such a prick towards me? You can’t be mad I’m hanging out with a guy I’ve been seeing for months, when you had a girl leave your room with her panties in her back pocket less than a week ago.
Come on, Jet. What gives?”
I thought maybe he was going to lay into me. I thought maybe he was going to tell me that I had no right to judge him. I thought maybe he was going to yell that I shouldn’t be bringing someone I knew he didn’t like around, when he was getting ready to play a big, important show.
What I wasn’t prepared for was for him to let go of his death grip on the sink and to suddenly grab me in hands that were a little too hard, and push me back up against the bathroom door. I certainly wasn’t prepared for him to shove fingers, heavy with rings, into my hair. There was no way in hell was I prepared for him to slam his mouth down hard enough on mine that it made me whimper.
I was so shocked that all I could do for a second was to stand there and let him assault me with hands that were too rough and a tongue that had the glide of metal in it.
By the time my brain had reengaged, he was starting to pull away - but now that the seal had been broken, there was no stopping the flood. Desire blazed first and foremost, so I had no problem wrapping my arms around his neck and keeping him right where he was.
I was surprised that he tasted like whiskey and my lust had me pressing as close to him as I could. I felt his knee slide up under the skirt of my dress. The contrast of cold and hot, as the barbell he had through his tongue moved back and forth across my own, made me gasp.
I gave him better access to everything he was trying to invade. Standing in my heels, all the best parts of him were pressing hard and insistently against all the wanting parts of me. I couldn’t ever remember a simple kiss being something as powerful as this.
I didn’t want to let him go.