Like he wanted me to walk in on him.
Now my cheeks are red from anger, not embarrassment. Without a word, I stride to the door to the hall, yanking it open and storming to the elevator. Normally I’d wait for him. But not tonight.
Chapter Eleven
Mason
Viola’s wearing red lipstick again tonight.
It hasn’t made an appearance since her first night, and it’s by far my favorite. It’s haunted my dreams—my fantasies—ever since. When she waltzed into my room like she owns the place, calling my name, I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe my fantasies had just run away with me, because she’d had the starring role while I fucked my hand and imagined it was her for a while.
The way those scarlet lips parted when she saw me and the heat in her eyes … fuuuuck.
I’ve suspected my attraction isn’t entirely one-sided since that first night. She kissed me back. It wasn’t all in my head. And every so often, I catch her checking me out. But so much of the time she’s closed off to me, her face carefully blank, her voice neutral.
I know I piss her off. Especially since I’ve been doing it on purpose. But her reactions are so slight that I wouldn’t catch them if I didn’t watch her closely—a brief tightness around her mouth, a fleeting flare of her nostrils—and then she’s back in control, either ignoring me completely or answering me as though I haven’t just done something to provoke her.
Though I’ve tried lightening up on that since Boston. I don’t think she accepted my apology that night after I made her pick me up. I don’t know if she didn’t believe me or if she was too tired to remember it the next day, but it hasn’t softened her toward me at all.
And while I enjoyed her barging in on me, from the way her cheeks turned pink and she all but ran away after I finished, it’s easy to guess that she doesn’t feel the same way.
Sighing, I clean myself up as quickly as possible and drag a shirt over my head before heading down to the cars.
I knew I was cutting it close with the impromptu self-love session, but I had too much time on my hands this afternoon, which led to daydreaming instead of napping. Daydreams turned into fantasies, and try as I might to pretend otherwise, Viola has been making a frequent appearance in the movies that play in my brain. No matter how much I tried to change my train of thought, nothing helped.
Browsing the on-demand movies only led to porn. Trying to read didn’t keep my attention—plus the hero in the action book I’m reading sleeps around as much as James Bond, so more sex there too. There was only one thing to do about the unrelenting hard-on in my pants, or I’d end up rocking a boner on stage tonight.
Hell, with the memory of the look on Viola’s face imprinted on my brain, I might anyway.
She’s nowhere in sight when I get to the hallway, and I frown at Dave, who gives me a nod and pushes the call button on the elevator. “Where’s Viola?” I ask him. The two of them are usually my shadows.
Avoiding my gaze, he clears his throat. “She went down already.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Did she say why?”
He clears his throat again. “Not as such, no.”
“What did she say?” I push. He’s acting weird, like he knows something embarrassing, but doesn’t want to say it. Which only makes me want to know more.
“Not much. She asked me to wait for you because she needed to go down right away. But after that she was kind of muttering to herself while she waited for the elevator.” Which chooses that moment to ding, and the doors slide open. We both step on, and I give him an expectant look, arms crossed. He sighs. “I didn’t catch it all, but I heard the words dick, jizz, and jack off.” He spreads his hands. “It doesn’t take much imagination to guess what might’ve happened.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my grin. I find it adorable that she was so worked up about what she walked in on. And also gratifying that I got such a big reaction out of her. About anything. Fucking finally.
“Well,” I drawl out just as the elevator slows before opening on the ground floor, “she barged into my room. That kind of thing comes with a certain amount of risk.”
Dave chuckles. “I’m guessing she’s learned that lesson.”
Viola avoids me as much as possible for the rest of the night. That is, until the post-show party is about to begin.
Once again, she and Dave have been dispatched as my babysitters, and she’s forced to sit next to me in the back of the car while Dave sits up front. She keeps her face steadfastly pointed out the window, no matter how many times I clear my throat or attempt to engage her in conversation. Every question is answered with her signature noncommittal hum.
But I know I affect her. Dave confirmed it. So I’m more determined than ever to break down that unaffected wall she puts up. Get inside it and get to the real her.
It probably says something about how messed up I am that the woman I’m most interested in is the one who ignores and rejects me at every opportunity. Especially when there are plenty of women fawning over me every night—from the VIP ticket holders, the interchangeable groupies that follow us from show to show, even the girl in the band that’s opening for us right now.
I kissed one of them a few
