Page 28 of Loved Out Loud
“Uh, I’m not really Anya’s type to be fair.”
“Please, you’re everyone with a pulse’s type.” I roll my eyes and try to walk away, embarrassment still driving me to be defensive.
“Am I your type?” His voice drops an octave to a sexy rasp.
“No.” It’s not a lie because I’ve never met a rock star.
“Sure.” His lips tilt upward into a grin. “Anyway, you’re more Anya’s type than I am. She’s a lesbian. And my Pilates instructor.”
“Oh.” Relief floods my body.
Relief?
Why am I relieved?
Just because I didn’t actually interrupt a sexy, post fuck kiss goodbye.
“You were jealous.”
“I was not.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What?” Why is he even asking me that? “Not really.”
“Not really?”
“There is a man, but it’s more of a situationship than anything else. Why?”
“So that when I seduce you, I know there won’t be a mess waiting for me.”
“I was literally just coming to say thank you for helping me last night. There will be no seduction. Are you always so direct?”
“Yes, and you’re welcome. I don’t like when people around me have to deal with my bullshit, like the paps following us.”
“What if I did have a boyfriend?”
“I’d have to be ready for the mess then.”
He winks, and I’d never admit it, but my pussy clenches. It has to be a rock star aura or something because winking? Come the fuck on, how cheesy. But it’s not cheesy when he does it.
“You’d still pursue me?”
“Yes.” He steps back toward his room. “And I always get what I want.”
He disappears back into his suite with a smirk on his face, while I stand there in the hall like a deer in headlights. He can’t be serious, right? I mean. Why me? Is this some sort of a joke?
I’m not going to focus on his words. I have writing to do before tonight, and I need to find coffee. I let myself back into my room and grab my laptop, headphones, and purse. I can pretend this interaction never occurred.
Ten
STONE
“You said what?”Adam’s brows nearly touch his hairline as I fill him in on what happened this morning in the hall.
“You heard me.” I pull on a shirt and then grab my shoes, lacing them up.
“Why?”
