"Stop." She reached for his hand, but he yanked it away. "Let's talk in the other room." She eyed Maddie and nodded toward the living room.
He followed her. "Stop?" He attempted to keep his voice low, but he was a hair away from yelling. "You're just like the rest. Let's land a night with the drummer and see if he's good with his stick."
She faced him and fisted her hips. If he weren't so crushed, he'd think she was cute with her defiant stance. "You know, if we're going to have a relationship, you have to trust me."
"Relationship?" He cleared his throat. "I don't have much experience with them, but I'm fairly certain they don't start with a bucket list where the first entry is a groupie, and the last is earth-shattering Os."
She stalked forward and poked his chest. If she were a man, she'd be laid out on the ground, but he'd never hit a woman.
"I'm not a groupie."
"Is that why you shoved your underwear in my fence?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I went over to your house to do a groupie thing, but that was the extent. And I chose your house as opposed to the others because you're not my type."
His insides twisted like his intestines were wrapped with rusty wire. "I was sure your type last night."
She let out a muffled scream. "Oh, my God. Listen to me. You had long hair, which is not my thing. Your house seemed to be a fan favorite, so I figured I could rush in and rush out without getting caught. Then I met you, and everything changed. You were a complete asshole, but a hot asshole. When you brought Maddie because you needed me … well, all I can say is every day since then I've fallen for you. And last night … that was the most amazing experience of my life. Believe me, or don't believe me, but it's the truth." She put her palms together like a prayer. "I hope you believe me because I can't imagine my life without you now that I've had you."
Every word sounded sincere. How could he argue with what she said? Everyone does stupid, silly stuff. "You didn't like my long hair?" He opened his arms, and she fell into them. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
"No more groupies for either of us, okay?" she asked.
"How about you be my one and only groupie?" He squeezed her tightly, never wanting to let her go.
"That's a deal."
Maddie walked out of the kitchen with a new picture. Her stick figure father held her hand, and on her other side was a woman, but in the sky was another.
"Who's this?" He pointed to the stick figure with the long hair holding her other hand.
"That's Mercy." Her pizza-sauce-dirtied finger pointed to the sky where a woman floated. "That's Mommy, and she's happy I'm here."
Chapter Eighteen
It had been three days since they argued—three days of kisses and stolen moments.
An hour ago, Katie invited Maddie over on the pretense that her daughter Sahara needed a play date.
When Mercy texted Alex that Maddie was playing at Katie's and she was home alone, he said he'd be there in minutes.
She had no idea what he would tell the band, but it made her feel important that he dropped everything for her. Not once in her adult life had anyone put her first, and the feeling was addictive.
Waiting, she sat at the table and wrote several checks to bill collectors. The eight hundred dollars a week she charged Alex was a boon and a bane. She needed the money desperately, but guilt ate at her for charging him so much. Then again, when they negotiated the price, she wasn't in love with him. That scary feeling of want and need and desire crawled into her heart and curled up all cozy and warm. Was what she felt for Alex, love? She couldn't figure out any other emotion that made her feel this good.
A soft tap sounded at the door, and her blood rushed through her veins, heating her body. Alex was here for her.
Her heart hadn't beat this hard since her wedding day, and in all honesty, that wasn't excitement, but anxiousness that had it doing double time. There was no wedding dress, no veil, no wedding party. She stood in a courtroom in front of a judge, because it was financially practical, but it seemed as though it was more of a punishment than a joyous occasion, almost like she signed up for a life sentence without a chance of parole, or so she thought.
When she opened the door, she found Mr. Sexy leaning on the doorframe.
"Delivery for Ms. Mercy."
"Did I order something?"
"You did, and I'm here to deliver."
She stood aside and let him enter. If her grin got any wider, her face might split. "I like my deliveries hot."
He pushed the door shut and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.
Holy hell, he was a work of art.
"You make me burn inside, but only you can judge whether or not I'm hot." He stalked toward her. "Now, you, on the other hand, are sizzling." He walked her back until she hit the wall. " What's hot is standing right here, pushing you against the drywall and kissing you like I never want to stop."
"Oh, God," she said on a shaky exhale. "Kiss me then."
His mouth covered hers, and he made a sound like the purr of a contented cat.
She loved the way he didn't rush anything. The one thing about Alex was he was all in and totally present.
He savored her kisses like they were special. A brush against her lips. A bite that stung, but quickly relieved when he sucked her lip into his mouth and soothed it with a swipe of his tongue.
Every nerve ending came alive and tingled like energy
