“So, that means you’re gonna bang her. Okay, well, so you know, I have no issues with you doing her.”
“Gee, thanks, Dad.”
He laughs. “Just don’t screw it up. I don’t want my most promising act to up and leave the label because of you.”
“Thanks for the confidence.” I scowl.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. You know what I mean. And don’t go getting yourself hurt either.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Did you actually just say that to me? You’re not talking to Denny right now, you know.”
“Fuck yeah.” He chuckles. “I forgot who I was talking to for a moment.”
There’s another weird silence between us.
Then, he says, “Tom, did we just have a fucking heart-to-heart?”
I rub a hand over the stubble on my chin. “Dunno, man. Maybe…yeah.”
“Wanna talk about guy stuff? Pretend like it never happened.”
“So, the Mets really fucking suck at the moment.”
We stay on the phone for a few more minutes, talking baseball and cleansing our guy souls. Then, we finish up. I have to talk to Lyla. She needs to know about that video online—if she doesn’t already.
I pull open the door and step into the hall.
I can see Lyla sitting close to Cale. Their heads are bent close together as they’re talking.
I feel a strange tightening in my chest.
Then, Cale puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him.
My blood starts to boil. My hands are balling into fists at my side.
And I have a vision of striding over there, ripping his arm off of her, and then pummeling him until I drive the message home.
It’s weird and irrational.
I know she said there’s nothing sexual between them, and I know she wouldn’t lie to me. But every time I turn around, he’s got his hands on her. Now, I’m starting to think that maybe he wants her, and she just can’t see it.
And what annoys me the most is the fact that it annoys me.
I really want to tear his goddamn hands off when I see him touching her.
The only thing stopping me is the fact that Jake will have a problem if I tear off Vintage’s bass player’s hands. That, and I don’t want to scare the shit out of Lyla.
Of course I have a temper. I’ve gotten into fuckloads of fights over the years but never over a woman—well, not over one who I actually cared about. But, yeah, I’ve gotten into a few brawls over me borrowing another guy’s woman for the night, without his consent.
I’ve just never cared about seeing another man’s hands on a woman I’ve fucked—let alone, one I’ve only kissed once. I’ve gotten off plenty of times from watching a woman I’ve just screwed getting screwed by some other guy while I move on to the next.
But the thought of another man touching Lyla makes me want to punch a hole in the nearest wall.
I feel territorial over her. Even though I have no right, I feel like she’s mine. And I don’t want anyone but me touching her.
“Lyla, got a minute?” I grind out. I don’t mean to sound so pissy, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Her head jerks, and her gaze hits mine. I don’t even bother to look at Cale.
I just relish in watching her stand, forcing his hand to fall away from her. I enjoy watching her walk toward me.
My eyes never leave her once, not even to blink.
She’s not looking at me though. Her eyes are lowered.
Fuck.
She’s been avoiding me since last night, and I took it in stride, giving her space to come around to things…to us.
Before, when she asked my opinion on something important to her, I thought we were taking a step forward.
But now, it appears we’ve gone two steps back.
And when I tell her about the video—well, I have a feeling that’s going to take us back even further.
As she nears, I step back, letting her pass by me and into the bedroom. The smell of her perfume has my head spinning and my cock hardening. She goes over and stands by the desk, putting the bed between us.
I raise an eyebrow and close the door. The click of the latch is loud in our silence. I turn back to her, wondering how to start.
Then, she blurts out, “I’m sorry!” She covers her face with her hands.
The sight of her upset feels like I’ve just been punched in the chest.
Striding around the bed, I cover the distance between us quickly. I slide my hands into her hair, forcing her face up to mine. She slowly drops her hands from her face. I don’t like what I see staring back at me from her eyes.
She looks sad and worried. It makes the punch in the chest feel like child’s play, compared to the bulldozer I just took, seeing her like this.
I’m guessing she knows about the video.
Well, I’m hoping she knows, so that her apology isn’t over something else. Something I don’t even want to think about. Cale.
“You’ve seen the video.”
Shaking her head, she blinks up at me. “I haven’t watched it, but I saw the headlines.” Her eyes lower. “I’m so, so sorry, Tom. I should have thought about it before I pulled my stunt last night. I know how famous you are, and believe it or not, even with who my parents are, I’m just not used to the fame. I was shielded from it, especially after my mom died. I sometimes forget—”
“Shh…it’s okay.” I press a soft kiss to her forehead.
“No, it’s not.” She moves her head gently from side to side. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
I let out a soft laugh.
That’s what she’s worried about. Not herself. But me.
“Trust me, you haven’t embarrassed me. Nothing embarrasses me. And even if I could be embarrassed, you”—I draw a line down her cheek with my finger, and I really like the shudder I feel in her from my touch—“could never embarrass me.”
She blinks those blues up at me. A feeling flashes through my chest.
“Is Jake angry?” she asks.
I notice she’s not moving away from me, so I take advantage and move closer, cupping her cheek in my hand.
“No, he’s not angry. He’s doing damage control now.”
“For you?”
“No, Ly, for you. He’s making sure that your connection to me won’t have the press digging things up on you.”
Her eyes lower again. She bites her lip.
I feel my cock jerk at the sight.
“I never thought of that,” she whispers.