I feel my eyes widen. “Becky?”
Her smile grows into a grin. “That’s the one.”
“Wow, that’s…great…?” My eyes tighten in a question. “Right?”
She nods. “I think so.”
I take their drink order and head back to the bar just as Lilah finishes her set and lays her guitar aside.
“How long have you been playing?” I ask, as I pour Marcus a Bud.
“Since I was five.” She runs a finger lovingly along the neck of the guitar. “This was my grandma’s. She taught me to play and gave it to me when she got sick.”
“Sick?” I ask, working on the rest of Marcus’s order.
She nods. “Cancer. She died five years ago.”
It makes me think of Grandpa and my 1970 Ford Torino—my most cherished possession. It’s the only thing other than my family I truly care about, and that’s because it’s basically a member of my family too. That’s how Lilah treats her guitar.
I get the tray for Marcus’s table ready. When Carol comes by I give it to her and turn to Lilah. “Your grandmother would be happy you’ve taken good care of it.”
She barks out a sardonic laugh. “The only reason it’s not a pile of ashes right now is because I abused it.”
I look a question at her.
She takes a deep breath and holds it before blowing it out. “My parents were tweakers. They blew up our house in San Francisco cooking meth. It burned to the ground along with the neighbors’ houses on either side. We lost everything—” She lifts her guitar. “—but this. The day before the fire, I was trying to write something that wasn’t coming out. I yanked on a string and it broke. A friend of mine was restringing it when our house burnt.”
“You write your own music?”
She nods. “Don’t play it much, though. It’s not what people want to hear, so doesn’t work out great for tips.”
“Play me one of yours.”
She gives me a sultry half smile. “I’m on break.”
God, that smile, that voice. She’s all sex. To take my mind off how much I want to fuck her, I turn the subject back to something less sensual. “Everyone got out of the house before it burned?”
She nods. “I guess the cops had been watching our house for a while. They hauled my parents off to jail as soon as they arrived.”
I feel my eyes widen. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen,” she says, then looks at me like she’s expecting a reaction.
“That must have been rough.”
Her gaze sharpens to a point as she scowls at me. “Like I said, I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”
I suppose that explains some of the strength I sense in her. When she came back into the bar last night because of Poser, she wasn’t particularly frightened. She just figured she’s wait the asshole out, like it was a matter of better safe than sorry. She’s sharp and smart with an edge of toughness about her that makes her fucking irresistible.
When I realize how hard I’m getting, I ask, “Are your parents still in jail?”
It’s a little scary that talking about her parents blowing up the family home and going to prison barely helps to curb my raging boner.
She nods, her expression stone cold. “Three more years.”
“Sorry.”
Her laugh is bitter. “Why? I’m not. They got what they deserved.”
There’s obviously no love lost between she and her parents. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious, but I want her to want to tell me. When she’s ready.
“Were you close with your grandmother?” I ask instead, with a nod toward her guitar.
Her face softens and right there I have my answer. “When Destiny and I were little, Grandma would come pick us up in the city when school got out and we’d spend the summers at her place. It was on the ocean near Mendocino and there were these amazing tide pools we’d hike down the cliff to. My best friend Lo came with us most summers because she doesn’t have any family. I wanted Grandma to come live with us when she got too sick to stay at home. I wanted to take care of her.” Her face hardens and becomes sad. “But my mom said she was too much to handle and they put her in a nursing home.”
“That’s when she taught you to play?” I ask, hoping to lighten the suddenly dark mood hanging over her. “When you were at her house for the summer?”
“Me and Lo both. She tried to teach Destiny, but all she cared about was the boy next door. Pretty sure she lost her virginity to him the last summer we spent at grandma’s.” Her eyes snap to me and she cringes when she realizes what she said. “That was probably too much information. Destiny really doesn’t sleep around.”
I lean on my elbows and reach into her eyes with mine. “Destiny can fuck anyone she wants. That’s her business, not mine.”
She swallows and pulls her guitar into her lap, but her gaze burns back into mine as she plays. That voice reaches into me and grabs right onto my cock. Strokes. Makes me hard for her.
Carol comes by with Marcus’s burgers. I give the bar a quick once over to be sure everyone’s set, then grab my beer and follow her to their table. I pull an empty chair around from the next table and drop into it.
“So, how’s Blaire’s couch working out for you?” I ask Marcus.
“It folds out into an actual bed, dude,” he answers through a mouthful of burger, and I see there are two on his plate. No surprise there.
“You’ve always been a overachiever,” I say to Blaire. Both she and Marcus were class valedictorians, he two years after I graduated and she the year after that.
She lifts her hand to high five her husband. “Yep, really shot for the stars, didn’t we babe? Living large in a one bedroom dump in the worst section of Oakland with a foldout couch in our rat infested living room. Doesn’t get any better.”
Caiden chuckles as his palm meets hers. If there’s ever been a couple who have had a tough row to hoe, it’s those two. He went to jail for fucking her when she was seventeen, and it was a year before he could come within fifty yards of her without getting his ass hauled back to prison. I was overseas during all that, but Marcus filled me in on all the gory details when I got back. He felt like Caiden had taken advantage of Blaire and wasn’t happy they were together. But he had to eat his words when he met Addie. She was a member of his Oak Crest High water polo team and he basically lost his coaching gig because he couldn’t stay away from her.
Moral of the story, don’t fuck underage girls.
No worries there. I toss a glance over my shoulder at Lilah and find her watching me as she plays. Destiny has to be at least twenty-one or Mom couldn’t have hired her to waitress. Good thing about twins is, that means I know how old Lilah is too. Not that I was worried. No question in my mind that Lilah is all woman.
I listen to the song she’s singing and let her voice works its magic on me. And as the words sink in, I realize it’s the first time I haven’t at least recognized the song. I look more closely at her face and her eyes spark, and that’s when I realize.
She’s doing what I asked. She’s singing something for me that she wrote.
I turn and listen to her sing about breaking rules and taking what you want. That voice combined with those words makes me want to climb right out of my skin and into hers. Before I realize she’s done it, like some fucking snake charmer, she’s pulled me right out of my chair with nothing but that voice.
Chapter 8
Lilah
Every time Bran’s eyes rake over me, I catch fire and have to remind myself of all the reasons this can’t happen. But I’m sure there has to be a wet spot on the back of the little black skirt I stole out of Destiny’s closet when I was getting ready tonight.
Which proves I’m the worst person who’s ever lived.
In my mind, I keep telling myself “hands off” when it comes to Bran. I’ve set my resolve that nothing can happen, despite the way I ache for him. When I changed out of my warm-ups and baggy T-shirt into some of Destiny’s most revealing clothes before I came here, I justified it by telling myself it ups my tips. That’s not a lie. But the second I saw Bran standing behind the bar, his black Sam Hill T-shirt clinging to his cut torso, I knew in my heart who I’d dressed for. At the wolfish spark in his eye when he saw me, the image of him taking these clothes off with his teeth flashed through my mind and I’ve been wet ever since.
My heart pounds every time I look at him—every time I catch him staring back. And I can’t keep my eyes off him.
He’s at the table near the door with two couples when I clear my throat and start on a song that I just wrote this week. It’s still a little rough around the edges, but he asked to hear one of my original songs, and if there’s a song I’m going to sing for Bran, it’s going to the one he was the inspiration for.
He turns and looks at me, and at first it’s the same predatory gaze he seems to reserve just for me. But as I start on the chorus of his song, and he hears what I’m singing, his eyes widen.
“There's nothing left to lose. There's nothing else to find.
Take my invitation, leave none of me behind.
Rules restrain the meek, and chains are meant to bind.
Inhibition broken, I’m crossing every line.”
He stands and moves toward me, his eyes asking the question. I nod as I start into the next verse. His smile is so fucking sexy, it’s everything I can do to remember to move my fingers on the strings. And the second I hit the last chord, he’s got my arm and is dragging me off the stool. My guitar is still in my hand as he pulls me through the swinging door to the kitchen and halfway down a short hallway in back. He yanks me into a dark office and before I can process what’s happening, my guitar is banging off something hard and Bran’s strong arms are lifting me off the ground by the waist. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see he’s set me on a desk. I lean my guitar against it as Bran wedges himself between my knees.
“I want to fuck you worse than I’ve ever wanted to fuck any woman, but right now, I’ll settle for the taste of your mouth.”
His lips crash into mine and the rush is intense. Every hair on my body stands on end at the feel of his hot mouth doing everything it can to devour me. He forces my mouth open with his and his tongue invades my deepest recesses. And it’s like somewhere deep in my mouth, he’s found my sex autopilot button. Without my permission, my hands fist into the hair on top of his head, and my knees spread and lift over his hips, causing my skirt to ride up my thighs. The moan that escapes my throat is low and feral, and I know he hears it when he grabs my ass and pulls me against the bulge in his jeans. There’s only the thin cotton of my panties and the denim of his jeans between us as I grind the sweet spot between my legs against his hard length. He groans into my mouth as his fingers dig into my skin, and he grinds harder against me. His hand slips under my shirt and cups the swell of my breast, teasing the tight nub of my nipple with his thumb. The action sends shockwaves directly to my groin.
I’ve never felt this desperate. This willing. His hand glides down my stomach and I open my legs as he tugs my skirt out of the way. I reach for the button of his jeans and just get it undone with shaking hands when there’s a loud bang from behind me.
“Oh, shit!” Carol gasps. “Sorry.”
I cringe but don’t turn around.
I expect Bran to let me go, but he keeps his grip on me. “Quiet out there?” he asks over my shoulder.
“Yeah. Only one table left and I just topped off their beers. I was going to clock out if you’ve got the bar.”
He peels one hand off my ass and grabs the card out of the rack on the wall that says Carol on the top. “Got it,” he says, swiping it through a machine next to the rack.
“Thanks.” I hear the door hinges creak as it starts to close. “Night, Lilah.”
“Night,” I say, still too mortified to turn and look at her.
The second the door clicks shut, Bran kisses me again, slow and deep. “I’ve got to get back out there. Stay till closing.”
“I can’t.” This is bad enough without Destiny asking me why I’m late. I have to be home by curfew.
His eyes burn into mine. “You can, because I’m taking you home tonight and I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming my name and can’t remember yours. And then I’m going to fuck you again and again until the sun comes up.”
He lets me push him back and I slide off the desk and straighten my skirt. “I can’t.”
His eyes soften and trace the lines of my face. “That song. What was that?”
I shrug and wipe the remnants of our kiss off my mouth with the back of my hand. “Just something I wrote.”
“Sounded like you were fucking me with your voice,” he says, his own rough with desire. “That’s the part I heard loud and clear.”
Then he heard what I wanted him to. I was brave enough to do that to him with my song, but I’m not brave enough to follow through with my body.
The pad of his thumb glides over my lips and his eyes flare heat into mine. “That voice of yours is pure sex. You’ve got to know that every time you open your fucking mouth, I get hard for you.”
Damn
. He knows just what to say to make me gush into my panties.
“I have to go,” I say, grabbing my guitar by the neck and moving to the door.
He follows and slams a palm against the door when I reach for the knob. As he leans across me for the doorknob, his voice rumbles low in my ear. “You’ve already given me blue balls for a week. Don’t make me wait until Friday to fuck you, Lilah.”
This is spot in the script where anyone who truly loved her sister would tell the twenty-something man her sister wants that she’s only sixteen. He should know the truth. It would solve the entire problem. As soon as he knows, he’ll quit wanting me.
But God, I love the way he looks at me. The heat that radiates out of his gaze every time it finds me melts me from the inside out. In his eyes, I’m sexy and strong. I’m a woman.
His
woman. He wants
me
. The intensity of his kiss…the desperation in the way he ravaged me on that desk, as if I were his last breath. In all my life, nothing has ever been as empowering as the pull I have over him. Nothing has made me feel so plugged in and alive. One sentence out of my mouth would douse the inferno and bring whatever’s happening between us to a screeching halt.
But I’m not ready to give up that feeling just yet.
So, because I’m such a selfish bitch, I instead of telling him the part of the truth that would turn him off, I give him the part I know will only turn him back. “I can’t be with you, Bran. You slept with my sister and she’s still into you. She’s all I have.” I glance over my shoulder at the desk, my stomach suddenly sour at what we just did there. “This was a mistake.” I push past him and he lets me.
“This is going to happen, Lilah,” he says to my back, “because you want it to.”
I throw my guitar in the case and swipe the entire tip jar off the bar and shove it in my bag. I bolt for the front door and when I look back, Bran is just coming from the kitchen. He sends me a salute, as if he’s anything but totally in charge.
Sergeant Seduction.
And I am the pathetic plebe who’s in way over her head.
This is going to happen…because you want it to
.
He’s wrong. I don’t want him. I
need
him. Like oxygen.
How the fuck am I supposed to resist oxygen? Even for the sister who’s given up everything for me.