Page 16 of Dirty Love

He looks at me, his gray eyes shifting back and forth like he’s trying to figure me out. Like I’m a puzzle and if he moves the pieces around long enough, they’ll fall into place.

Well, joke’s on him. I’m missing half of the pieces that would make me whole. No matter how long he stares at me, I’m still going to look like a Rorschach test—maybe something you can make sense of if you squint, but in reality just a splatter stain.

“It is.” He shifts forward onto the balls of his feet, then back onto his heels. He’s thinking.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well, it was fun watching you shove my manager out of the suite, but before I call hotel security and have you kicked out for trespassing, I’m going to ask you to leave. Nicely.”

“You want us to leave nicely?” He crooks one eyebrow.Wanna dance, little one?

He knows what I meant. I ignore the petulant whine that rises in my chest. “Yes, please.”

“Make you a deal. Tell us more than yes/no answers about your relationship with Lively—financial, sexual, etcetera—and we’ll leave super nicely.”

“No can do,sir.” I stand and move toward the phone. “I don’t have arelationshipwith him, so there’s nothing to elaborate on.”

“We’re not done here.” His words tug at my insides. Oh yeah, we are.

“I have a show to get ready for tonight, unfortunately. And my vocal coach insists I don’t use my voice for six hours before a performance, so…” I shrug.

His eyes glitter, just for a second, then he blinks and it’s gone. Emotion…poof. That’s a neat trick. I’d love to be able to do that without a bottle of tequila or a pile of naked bodies.

“What time is your show?” He glances at his watch, then back at me. Bland again.

I don’t like that.

I don’t like this interview, I don’t like him, I don’t like being put in this position wheremylife is exposed because Grant wanted to play Lifestyles of the Rich and Perverted six years ago.

One time. That’s all I put up with.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind an orgy. Only way I have sex. But there’s no way those girls had consented to be there.

I don’t really get it. There are plenty of us sluts to go around—why the hell verge into criminal behavior to get your rocks off?

I live my life on the edge of the law, and nobody knows it. I’m sure as hell not going to recklessly wander across that line just for a dirty fuck.

Those are as easy to come by as apple-fucking-pie. I could have one with these two wannabe-cops right now.

“I asked you a question,” the blond one repeats and his friend mutters something I don’t catch. Frankly, I’d forgotten the other guy was in the room until my mind turned to sex.

Safety in numbers, that’s my motto.

And suddenly I realize that this bitchiness is because I want this guy. The blond one. Agent Asshole. I want him on his knees, licking my pussy and calling me ma’am.

There is nothing I like better than bringing grown men to heel.

“Tabitha.” His voice is unreal. Quiet, steely, and commanding. I jerk my shoulders back. “We’re not here to expose you. We’re strictly interested in understanding more about how Lively operates—the financial side, and yes, the sexual violence.”

“Why?”

He stills, and I look back and forth between the two of them. He’s not usually in charge, I decide. Why he’s taking the lead here, I’m not sure. Maybe this is his investigation. But the other guy is watching him carefully.

‘The nature of the investigation is confidential,” he finally answers.

“Well, then so is the nature of my knowledge, should I have any. Which I don’t.” I stand up, and I don’t miss how his eyelids drop just a hair, just enough to mask that he’s looking at me. Tracing down my body, then back up again, and his gaze lingers on my hips. My tits.

Fucking men. So easily swayed.

He wants to see my tits? Happy to oblige. I cross my hands at my waist and grip the bottom of my tank top. The other guy curses under his breath as I slide the cotton fabric up my torso, over my head, and let it fall on the ground.

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