“Hey, I just wanted a chat with her. Chillax, Gru.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” Mackenna drops down next to me and shoots me a look of both amusement and disgust as the guy vanishes into the crowd. “Must you have to break hearts every second I leave you alone?”

“I don’t have to, but it’s fun,” I lie.

“Not for me. One day you’re going to lure a guy the size of a truck to you, and I’ll have to fight dirty to get him away.”

“I thought you liked dirty. You have a dirty mouth, a dirty mind, you love dirty sex—”

“Jesus.” He pulls me to him and says, “Say ‘dirty’ one more time and I’m sucking the word right out of you.”

“Dirty.”

We kiss. The kiss is sloppy and wild and delicious, and it lasts a whole intense minute.

When we peel our lips apart, he grins and pushes the pink strand of my hair behind my face. “What’s the deal with this pink on your hair?”

“Melanie. She thinks I’m bitter and suggested a little color might spruce up my mood.”

“Did it help?”

“No, but she dared me, so I’m stuck with it for a while.”

“I like it. It makes you girly.”

“Is that supposed to mean I look like a man, otherwise?”

He grabs my hand and sets it on his erection. “Do you think I’d have feelings like these for a man?”

“Who knows what perversions you harbor.”

“I’ll be happy to experiment with you all you like.”

My cheeks flare when I remember how I spread my legs and let him shave the small airstrip I usually have on my pussy. It turned him on, and it turned me on, and even remembering something so intimate makes me blush beet red.

“You’re a world of contrasts, aren’t you?” The words are spoken reverently as he eases his fingers into my hair. We’re in our own little world. Rock music plays in the background. We may be in a booth, in the middle of a club, but right now, there’s no one but us. “Pink hair on a set of black. Innocent bad girl. Sarcastic but sweet. Is it any wonder I could never forget you?”

My heart trips, and I turn my head away as I feel an awkward blush rise up my neck. “Kenna . . . don’t.”

He turns my head to his with the back of one knuckle, like we’re a couple, and the gesture keeps making me feel weak at the knees. “It’s the truth, Pandora,” he repeats.

My body throbs in response, and I hate that he can hear the huskiness in my voice when I say, “Let’s not confuse what we’re doing here.”

He laughs and leans back on the seat, studying me. “What are we doing here?”

I draw in a deep, steadying breath to calm myself. “Having fun. We’re . . . getting each other out of our systems. Doing what we maybe would’ve done as teens if you hadn’t left.”

“I would’ve done much more to you, woman.” He signals for a drink and sets the drink the other guy bought on a passing tray. “I can’t fuck you fast or hard enough to make up for all the days I fucked you in my head, or had another woman in my bed.”

I turn away, blushing beet red. “Kenna.”

He turns me back to him. “It’s the truth. There have been others—tens, hundreds, who even knows.”

“Stop it.” I’m getting angry and push him away.

“Don’t,” he says, gripping me close to him. “I’m trying to be honest with you.”

“I don’t want you to. It’s too late for that.”

“Why the fuck is it too late?”

“I don’t want you to open up, because it makes me feel like I should too, and I can’t.” I stare at him. “I won’t.”

He looks at me, battling with something in his head.

Then he presses his lips to the crook of my neck. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers. “Even when you’re not smiling, you’re so fucking lovely, Pink,” and the whisper is almost a song. I’ve never heard it before, but the feel of his breath as he murmurs into my skin sparks me up like nothing ever has. “Let me in. Tell me what to do so you can let me in—”

“You lied to me,” I say.

“It wasn’t a lie. I’ve never lied to you. I can lie about you—you taught me to lie about you when you wouldn’t let anyone know I was yours—but I never lied to you, Pink.”

“I didn’t—”

He presses a finger to my lips, his expression pleading with me not to fight with him. “It’s all right. I wasn’t good enough then, but I’m good enough now,” he says.

“Oh, really? Because you have fame and money?” I smirk.

“Because I’m a man, Pink, not a foolish little boy. Because I weathered shit, and I still grew and made something of myself. Because I’m here now, with you, and I won’t be driven away. You cast me aside before, but I won’t let you do that again. That’s why I’m good enough now.”

“You really mean that?” I ask, both puzzled and strangely warm in my chest area.

“Oh, I mean it.”

Suddenly I feel it’s important to clear up the fact that I did not cast him aside—at least, not willingly. “It wasn’t you, Kenna. My mother would never have understood,” I explain, almost apologizing. Before I say anything more, I grab my glass and drain my cosmo.

Then sign for another.

♥ ♥ ♥

THREE HOURS LATER we’re drunk. As we stumble into the room, Mackenna pulls my shirt up and my bra down, and suddenly his mouth surrounds the tip of my breast. I feel him jerk on his jeans, and his mouth only leaves my tits for the length of time it takes for him to get his shirt off.

“Fucking god, just look at you.” He dips his finger into my jeans and runs his mouth along my throat. I love it so much, I impulsively drag my lips over his jaw, running my hands over that sexy buzz cut hair.

“You drunk? Hmm? You drunk?”

“You’re drunk as fuck,” I tell him.

“Yeah, but the kind of drunk that can fuck you like you want.”

He goes and gets naked, then lights a cigarette.

He looks lickable.

The tattoo on his forearm peeks out as he takes a hit of the cigarette, the tip glowing as he does.

“What does that mean?”

He passes the cigarette over and I give it a hit, watching the smoke leave my lips.

“I tried quitting, you know,” I say.

“Yeah, I can’t quit for more than a few days. Especially touring. I get a fucking headache, and the only thing that quits is my good mood. Come here.”

“Hmm. Most I’ve lasted was, well, there was this one year where I didn’t smoke anything but e-cigarettes, but then I started up again. My only rule is to never smoke at home. Or in front of Mags.”

“Nice.” He’s now referring to my body as he peels off my layers of clothing, and he looks at me as if he’s branding the image of me naked into his mind.

My nipples are puckered as though begging for his mouth. My pussy feels damp and his eyes snag there. “So pink and shiny, this shaven little pussy.”

He drags a finger over it, leading to my pink clit and lips.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing that finger over my lips. “I’m salivating here, babe. You’re so beautiful.” He lifts his gaze and watches my expression as he slides a finger over my sex again. I tremble.

“Stop saying ‘babe,’ Mackenna.”

“Shh,” he says, heading for the bathroom in all his naked glory, returning with a condom.

“We haven’t even kissed and you’re hard. You’re always hard.”

“You assume your perfect tits and that sweet pussy won’t get me like this?” My eyes drop to his huge erection, and I lick my lips, knowing how much I want it. He takes my face in one hand, his eyes devouring me. “There’s something innocent and alluring about you. Some innocence you don’t hide. I want to feed myself into your mouth, baby, and I want to watch you feast on me.”

He rolls a condom over his cock, and I groan in hunger and drop to my knees, his hands cupping the back of my head. “Come here,” he coaxes, pulling my head toward his straining cock. “Come here and open your mouth.”

“I want you, but not with a condom.”

“It’s flavored just for you, Pink.”

I unroll it and his eyes darken dangerously. I smile drunkenly up at him, then I open my mouth around him, and the flick of my tongue seems to catapult his desire, because he groans and fists my hair as he starts pumping. “Oh, baby. Oh, sweetheart. Ahh, Christ, Jesus, don’t stop, Pink. Don’t fucking stop until I’m dry. You like that cock? You wanted nothing between your perfect tongue and my fucking cock? Are you going to swallow me, Pink? Tell me how badly you want to fucking swallow me.”

Quaking with need, I nod and work him slow. Curling my fingers around the base. Sucking the head. Savoring the drops gathering at the tip, and when he shoots off, he groans. When he’s done I grin, because for this moment, I have him right where I want him.

Until he recovers.

And fast.

And when he slides down on the bed and tells me to sit on his face, he ends up having me right where he wants me.