Revenge 2 Read online

  He keeps pulling my hands up. He takes a step back and pulls me to my feet.

  “Let’s get you out of those pajamas,” he says.

  I swallow hard. We’re going to do this. Right now.

  I’m so nervous, I can’t move.

  “Well?” he says.

  “Shouldn’t we start with some kissing?”

  Smiling, he leans toward me and kisses me softly on the cheek. His lips are heavenly. I tilt up my chin. He kisses the other cheek, and then he tilts his head and kisses me on the lips.

  His arms close around me, pulling me into him.

  I stand on my toes to get closer. I feel weightless in his arms. My whole body hums at his touch.

  My mind lets go of its worries. I don’t care what happens next. I just want to be with Dylan. Touching him. Kissing him.

  His hands move down from my back to my buttocks. His wide palms cup my body and squeeze.

  I pull my lips back from his just as a small moan escapes my mouth.

  He growls and chases my lips with his, pressing hard. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I want him. I want him so bad.

  With a groan, he pulls away from me.

  I’m gasping, unable to catch my breath. All I want is his lips on mine.

  “Your pajamas,” he says.

  I whisper, “I’ll take them off.”

  My hands go to the top buttons. He catches my hands in his, stopping me.

  “That’s not what I meant,” he says. “Let’s get you out of these pajamas and into some clothes that are more appropriate.”

  “For what?”

  Grinning, he says, “For a concert.”

  “Dylan, it’s almost two in the morning.”

  “That’s when all the good stuff happens.”

  “Dylan…”

  He kisses me again. When he pulls away, he says, “I love it when you say my name. Say it again.”

  “Dylan.”

  He growls and comes at me like he’s going to devour me whole. I squeal, but he catches me, and his lips on mine silence me.

  After a moment, he pushes me away. Now he’s the one gasping.

  “I’ll wait outside your door while you get changed,” he says. “Wear something sexy. I want all the guys to slobber over you. And then I want them to see you walking out the door with me.”

  “I don’t own anything sexy.”

  He crosses over to my closet and pushes the bi-fold doors all the way open.

  “Interesting.” He pulls out the olive green jacket he left behind the day he met me.

  “I was going to give that back to you, I swear.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Naughty little thief. Shame on you, Jess.”

  I cough. “Excuse me? You left it on the sidewalk. You were littering. I didn’t steal your dumb jacket.”

  “No, but you stole my heart, didn’t you?”

  I can feel my face twisting up into a weird expression. I laugh nervously.

  He scrunches his forehead and shakes his head. “Sorry, that was really corny. Sometimes I say things that should be song lyrics.”

  “I like your song lyrics.”

  He pulls out a pair of jeans and a cranberry-red shirt and tosses both at me. “Here, kid. Put these on. Don’t wear any underwear underneath.”

  “No underwear?”

  “Do you own any underwear that aren’t white cotton?”

  “Not really.”

  He nods. “Then no underwear. If I even think about that virginal white cotton, I’ll be hard all night. I can’t play guitar if I’m as hard as a rock for you.”

  My eyes bulge. Is he really saying these things? Out loud? Right in front of me?

  Chuckling, he steps toward my bedroom door and out into the hallway. “Where’s the kitchen? I need some crackers.”

  “Keep going. You’ll find it.”

  I hear him mumbling to himself as he searches around for the light switches.

  I close the door and stand for a moment with my back against it. I mutter to myself, “Jess, what the hell are you doing?”

  Shaking my head, I start to unbutton my flannel top. I pull on the red shirt, no bra. I push down my flannel bottoms, and panties.

  This is not what I pictured tonight. At the most, I thought Dylan might phone me. That’s it. I didn’t expect he’d come and stand in my back yard and serenade me.

  As I’m pulling on the jeans, I remember something. I talked to him once about living in this neighborhood. He asked where I lived, and I told him I wouldn’t say, because if I did, he’d come and serenade me. Exactly the way he really did.

  Was I the one who gave him the crazy idea in the first place? It sure seems like I did.

  I’d better watch what I say around Dylan.

  Chapter 9

  I come out of my bedroom and find Dylan in the kitchen.

  He’s munching on crackers from my cupboard.

  He points to the cupboard next to mine. “Who’s Queen Bitch?”

  “My roommate. You actually met her once. On Tuesday morning, she was with me when we saw you busking.”

  He blinks his dark, heavenly eyes. “You weren’t with anyone.”

  “She was standing right next to me.” I hold my hand up next to my head. “She’s this tall. Blonde. Her name’s Amanda.”

  He munches another cracker slowly, staring at me like I’m crazy.

  “She talked to you and shook your hand,” I say.

  He’s completely still, posed like a gorgeous statue in my kitchen.

  “All I remember is you,” he says. “All I saw that day was you, Jessica Lynn Rivera.”

  A shiver crawls up and down my body. My scalp feels tight, and my whole body is energized. All he saw was me. Oh, man. The guy has a way with words, and saying the right ones at the right time. I’m so deep under his spell, I’m barely able to stand. I grab onto a chair to hold myself steady.

  “Cracker?” He offers me the box.

  “No thanks,” I say. “Are we really going to a concert?”

  He jolts into action, putting the crackers away and swiping crumbs from the counter to the floor.

  “Rock and roll time.” He starts walking back toward my room.

  I call after him, “Hey, rock star. Let’s try the front door. Just for fun.”

  He comes back, grinning. “Can’t go in socks.” He’s holding his boots.

  We go out the front and circle around to get his guitar and move the ladder away from the house.

  I stand with my arms crossed while he puts the guitar in the back seat of his car. He’s very gentle with the guitar, like it’s precious.

  “Do you have other guitars?” I ask. “You just use that ratty old one so you don’t have to worry about it, right?”

  “This guitar is my salvation. I joke sometimes about calling her Sally, because that’s short for salvation.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story in there.”

  He walks around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. This is a nice change from the first time I saw his car, when he teased me about not opening the door for me.

  “There’s a story,” he says. “But I only tell people I trust.”

  I slide into the car’s leather seat, wondering what he means by that. Is he planning to tell me in a few minutes, or just leave me squirming? Is he saying he doesn’t trust me? That’s not fair. I never did anything to trick him. He’s the one who used me and lied to me in the first place, with the fake mugging.

  He gets in and pulls out his car keys. I move quickly, blocking the ignition with my hand.

  “Wait,” I say. “You’re not going to do your impression of a bank robbery getaway driver again, are you?”

  His playful expression grows serious. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” His voice is cold and sharp.

  I pull my hand away. He’s scaring me again, making me break out in a cold sweat. I withdraw into my seat.

  “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head then looking straight ahead. “I
overreacted. You were just making a joke, weren’t you?”

  “Not a very funny one. Apparently.”

  He takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “I promise to be a careful and safe driver tonight. In fact, I will be a perfect gentleman. The whole night. No bad behavior.”

  “Okay.” I click on my seat belt.

  When I look up, he’s staring at me. He’s so hot right now, in the dark, with just the street lamp lighting up his features. When he looks at me, I feel like half my blood turns to ice while the other half boils. I’ve never felt like this before. So mixed up.

  “My best behavior,” he says. “Unless you do something bad. If you tempt me, all promises are off.”

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. He starts the car and pulls out onto the street.

  We’re driving fast, but not the kind of fast that would get us pulled over.

  I’m curious about where we’re going, but I won’t ask. I’m going to play it cool. I’ve got my wallet in my jeans pocket, with some money to get me home in a cab, if I need it. I promise myself I won’t stay with Dylan if things get too intense.

  This time, I don’t have all my cash with me. I split my cash up and hid it in a few different places in my bedroom.

  “Dylan, can I ask you something?”

  “Only ask if you’re prepared for the answer.” He chuckles to soften his words.

  “Why did you give me all that money?”

  “What money?”

  “Three hundred dollars. The day I got mugged. You said all my money was gone, but when I got home, I had twice as much in my wallet.”

  “Listen, don’t tell anyone about that, okay? I could get in serious trouble and blow everything.” He shakes his head and mutters, “Ridiculous. Losing everything over three hundred dollars.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I shouldn’t be talking at all. You can’t tell anyone about the money, okay? Do you promise?”

  “I told my roommate, but that’s it.”

  “You weren’t the girl, Jess. It was supposed to be someone else. I got distracted, and started flirting with you. I blame you for looking so cute and innocent, with your big eyes, and your damp hair. I got a whiff of your hair, and I started having bad thoughts.”

  I fidget with my hands on my lap. “I understand now. Your guy was supposed to grab someone else.”

  “Exactly. And when I saw how much money was in your wallet, I got a bad feeling. You didn’t look rich, you know? I’m sorry that I judged you, but you looked like maybe that was all the money you had in the whole world. And I felt so bad that I grabbed the money back from the guy. He was acting cagey, and I didn’t know for sure if I even got it all back. So I dug into my pocket and shoved some of my money in there with yours.”

  “You gave me three hundred dollars. That’s a lot. I’d probably take another black eye for that much money.”

  “I thought it was just a few bills from busking, but I guess I had… never mind. I’ve already said too much.”

  “Do you want the three hundred dollars back?”

  He laughs. “No.”

  “This whole thing is breaking my brain. I don’t know what’s happening. Do you know more about Morris Music than you’re telling me?”

  He takes a while to think.

  “Can we just chill out tonight?” he asks. “We’ll hear some great music. You can even dance. You’re a girl. You probably like to dance. How about you dance for me and make me think bad thoughts? Can we just do that tonight?”

  He reaches over and rests his hand on my leg. The heat from his palm soothes me. All I want is more of his touch.

  “Sure,” I say. We can just chill out tonight, and I’ll try to keep my million questions to myself. I won’t drive myself crazy wondering how Dylan got my home address.

  He lifts his hand off my leg and opens the glove box. There’s not much in here, except for a box of peppermints. He pulls them out and offers me one.

  “These help me sing,” he says.

  I take a peppermint and pop it in my mouth.

  “You’re singing tonight?” I remember what he said about being too distracted to play guitar tonight. He was talking about being hard, and that got me so flustered, I forgot.

  “Any requests?” he asks.

  “Anything but Jessie’s Girl.”

  He chuckles. “My set list is really coming together.”

  I press my lips tight. He’s going to do the exact opposite of anything I ask.

  “Hmmm. What else.” He hums and taps the steering wheel. We’re still driving fast, but no crazy U-turns.

  I could set him up. What’s the most ridiculous song in the world?

  “No Meatloaf,” I say. “Definitely not one of those silly ballads where the guy’s trying to get the girl to put out.”

  He gives me a suspicious look out of the side of his eye.

  His look says I dare you to dare me.

  I try to give him the same look right back. I dare him to sing cheesy songs and then kiss me again. I might even let him take me back to his place.

  Chapter 10

  We park in an alley, behind a dumpster.

  There are signs posted along the crumbling brick wall: Loading Zone Only.

  “Are you sure you can park here?” I ask. The other vehicles parked along the wall are vans, and we’re in the only car.

  Dylan just laughs and gets out of the vehicle. I can’t get out on my side, because the door is right up against the wall. I have to crawl out through the driver’s side door.

  As I’m wiggling my way out, Dylan’s eyes are tight on me. He’s looking down the neckline of my cranberry-red shirt. I take my time getting out, enjoying the look of concentration on his face.

  Once I’m out and standing right in front of him, he reaches up and tucks a strand of my dark brown hair behind my ear. I tilt my chin up, expecting him to kiss me.

  “Later,” he says, like he’s reading my mind.

  The music from the club is coming through the wall. There’s nothing like this where I’m from, and I’m nervous and excited to see what’s behind the stage door.

  Dylan grabs his beat-up guitar from the back seat and says, “Hello, my darling,” to the guitar.

  I feel a twinge of jealousy toward the guitar. I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help how I feel. I want those hands all over me.

  Dylan leads the way into the building, through the stage door. I’m surprised the door’s not locked, but what do I know?

  The music is loud. The beats reverberate through my body. I can feel music in my bones, and it’s a good feeling. I love it when sound waves travel through me and make my body part of the beat.

  Dylan dodges left just inside the door. I keep going, and in a few steps, I find myself on stage. The lights from overhead are blinding. After a few blinks, I can see people down below, in the audience. Several faces turn to look at me.

  The guy on stage singing also turns his head to look my way. He keeps on singing and playing guitar.

  “Sorry,” I say. My voice won’t carry to him over the music, but I have to say something. I step backward, leaving the stage the way I came on.

  I bump into Dylan, who’s busting his gut laughing at me.

  I smack him in the chest with both hands.

  “You suck!” I yell, also laughing.

  “Relax. Your first show is the hardest,” he says. “Honestly, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I thought you were right behind me.”

  “Sure you did.” I smack him again playfully. My hands linger on his chest. He’s wearing his button-down shirt, but I’ve seen his bare chest and I know what’s under the fabric.

  “Easy now,” he growls. “Don’t distract me.”

  I bat my eyelashes at him and press my palms flat on his broad, hard chest.

  He growls again and pushes my hands away.

  I glance around at the surroundings. We’re standing amidst a bunch of music equipment, and a few people are ha
nging around backstage. They’re all focused on the band that’s playing and not looking at us.

  Dylan pulls a wad of bills from his pocket and hands me a fifty. “Go get yourself a drink and find a seat. I saw a few free tables at the back.”

  “I have to sit by myself? Can’t I hang out back here? I won’t get in the way, I promise.”

  He nods for me to follow him over to where two girls are standing backstage. They look too young to be in a club.

  His voice gruff, Dylan says to the girls, “Do you two have important business back here?”

  They both have red hair and pale skin. They could be sisters, or maybe twins, but not identical. One of them looks scared of Dylan, her blue eyes wide. The other is cool and calm. Her eyes are pale green. She says, “We like to be part of the action.”

  He pulls out the bills again and holds up another fifty.

  “Girls, you’ve done babysitting before, right?”

  They both nod.

  He continues, “If I give you this, will you go find a table and keep my girlfriend company? She’s new in town.”

  The cool one snatches the money in a heartbeat. “Sounds fun.”

  She grabs my hand and leads me further back, into the dark of the backstage.

  I turn as I’m walking and give Dylan a dirty look over my shoulder. How dare he pay off other people to babysit me? I’d march right up to him and kick him in the shin, except… he called me his girlfriend.

  The girls lead me down some stairs and we pop out on the main floor, next to the stage. They race each other to the bar, where they order a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea.

  We find a table and sit down. The sound quality is actually good for a space this size. I look around at the speaker placement. There are only a few places with live music in my hometown, and they all have the worst sound systems. I’d rather hear no music than hear it ruined on a shitty system.

  The girls pour amber liquid into three glasses and push mine toward me.

  I’m no stranger to Long Island Iced Tea. It’s sweet and tastes good going down, but one glass and you’re hammered. I wasn’t lying to my roommate about being allergic to alcohol. It really does go straight to my head and do weird things to me.

  I’ll just have a few sips.