URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 40: (Even) Bad Girls Gag Sometimes

Mac

I underestimated Street.

I forgot, this kid is a del Marco.

I should have known he was sneaking off with his lap girl to find a private place to fuck.

And maybe So-Cal cool Street doesn't have the Matt and Trace total bad-assery thing going on, but he has enough balls to commandeer a storage closet near the main bar, pick the lock and take his girl in there. So now I'm waiting at the bar, keeping an eye out for him to emerge, before I pounce.

It's actually perfect. He'll be so fuck-drunk, I'm sure I'll be able to get the information I want out of him. Unless Adam scares him away, like he's scaring every other dick-carrying member of the species away from me at the moment. He literally just growled at my ex-movie star that passed by, barely waving a hello.

Growled. Over a wave.

What the fuck is Adam thinking?

Growling is my job. I'm the man-eater, right?

"Baby," I rub his back as he leans backwards on his elbows and nurses his second bourbon, side-eying two handsome randoms down the bar that are apparently coming to an awareness not only am I a looker, I'm a looker they recognize from TV. "This is why I asked you to stay in VIP."

"So these LA fuckers can all take a shot at you?" he hisses.

I laugh at him. "No, so you didn't get worked up like this. Come on, lover, you know this scene. You're an LA fucker, too. How many women have you picked up just like this?"

He narrows his eyes at me, but then he softens. He puts a hand on my upper thigh as he leans in and whispers in my ear. "I couldn't tell you. Somewhere between you saying 'I love you' and you throwing Plan B in the ocean, my memory of other women went to shit. All I know is you. Now, and forever."

I close my eyes and let the impression of his words shiver up and down my spine. "Goddamn the wonderful things you say, Adam. They are utterly distracting in a situation like this." I grab his jaw, and kiss him hard, mindless of my makeup, then I pull back and whisper."No other fucker has a chance. Not in LA. Not in hell. Only you. Like you said...you know...the very last thing...you said..." I stammer.

"Now and forever?" he whispers.

"Yeah. That."

He grasps my hand, puts it to his hip. I feel a small square protrusion in his pocket. "I wish you'd wear my ring, so that everyone knows it. We don't have to get married anytime soon, you know. Think of it as a promise, while we figure out how to make forever perfect..." he wheedles.

I kiss his sexy stubbly jaw and growl, "You asking me to marry you again?"

He pulls back. The look in his eyes is hard, like he knows the answer already, but he owns it anyway. "Yeah, I guess I am."

I lay my head on his shoulder. Last time, he infuriated me with his proposal. This time, he makes me sad. Does he really think I need to wear his ring just to ward off other men? That I have so little resistance? That I can't form the words "Fuck off" and give the chin tip to Mason the security guy over there if some hopeful doesn't take the brush-off?

I grab his head, pulling his ear down to me as I rasp harshly. "You give the shittiest proposals, Preacher." I shove at his hip, pressing the ring box away. "Put that fucking thing away before you hurt yourself. And get gone. When Street comes out of that closet shoving his dick in his pants, the last thing I need beside me is Trace's best friend with a shit-eating grin on his face. He's sees you, he automatically thinks he's taking shit from Trace over the nasty closet-fuck. Then it's mission fail. He'll either clam up shit-cool, which being a del Marco is a distinct possibility, or he'll freak the fuck out and tell us only what he thinks we want to hear, you know? You're a liability to this mission, Heartley." I cast around my eyes. "Don't you know that producer over there? Go talk shop," I suggest. "Mason's got me."