Exhale (13 page)

God damn that bitch Scarlet. And God damn Trevor for always thinking with his dick. By hooking up with the Queen of Crazy, the bastard had put Zoe’s life in danger. He’d have words with the drummer tomorrow. Of the four letter variety.

The evening had started off perfectly. The band was tighter than ever at the gig, the fans loved the new music, and the promise of an entire night alone with Zoe put his head in the clouds.

Until Scarlet had to go and ruin everything.

Rinsing his hair, he considered what he should say to Zoe. He’d tried telling her she needed his protection the first time they’d met. That had gone over about as well as a fur coat sale at an animal rights rally. Maybe it would be best to focus on
them
tonight, instead of raving about the Dreaming and Fyre Elementals. He had to win her trust.

But time was running out. Scarlet had surely sensed his Fire for Zoe, despite his attempt to hide it under a cloak of Air and Earth.

Fuck. If she’d been an ordinary human, Scarlet would have been classified as dangerous, but the Fyre Elemental label upgraded her psycho card status to platinum deadly.

Gavin braced his forearm against the slick shower wall and rested his dripping head on it. If Scarlet viewed Zoe as a threat to her ‘relationship’ with him, the bitch would have no qualms about hurting or maybe even killing Zoe.

Think. Think.
He pounded a fist on the shower tiles. Okay, at least for tonight, they should be safe. To ensure privacy, Gavin had booked a different hotel from his band mates. He made sure Scarlet was occupied with Trevor before he and Zoe left the show. No one had been in the lift or the halls on the way to the room. Chances were good she hadn’t followed them.

Lathering a bar of soap over his body, he relaxed a little. All he wanted was for tonight to be special. No hang-ups or hitches, no Sentinel responsibilities or Dreaming annoyances—just him and Zoe.

Why couldn’t life be normal for once?

He touched his lips and smiled. At least he’d gotten his kiss.

With a sigh, he slammed the water dial all the way to the left and let the residual droplets fall from his skin. After a quick dry-off, he tugged on the pair of navy plaid pajama pants he’d bought for this trip, brushed his teeth, and slugged some mouthwash.
Swish. Spit.

Running his fingers through his short, wet hair, he opted for the natural look. No time for hair gel and primping. Zoe was waiting.

Gavin stepped out of the bathroom, the steam from the shower billowing out behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks. A magazine spread open beside her, Zoe sat cross-legged on the lounge, wearing blue pajama bottoms and a matching thin-strapped top, nipples hard under the fabric. No bra.

Her bare, tanned toes wiggled within the pretzel of her legs when she glanced up at him. Her gaze fell on his bare chest, and her cheeks reddened. Along with her aura.

Whole lotta red. His Dreamsense gloated.

Fucking. Hell.

He dropped his bag at the foot of the bed next to hers, and reached inside for a black tee shirt, fighting the temptation to stare. He lost.

The night was looking up.

Her gaze moved over his arms and up to his face. He shook the shirt out, wove hands through the armholes, stretched the tee over his wet head, and tugged it down.

She swept the magazine closed and tossed it on the table before her. Dropping feet to the floor, she raised her arms straight above her head in a slow motion stretch. A hint of tanned stomach and—God, those nipples had somehow gotten even tighter.

Her hands came down, and fingers landed spread eagle on her thighs. “The show was great. In the chaos backstage, I forgot to tell you that.”

“Thanks.” He settled next to her on the lounge and propped his bare feet on the table. His right leg touched her left. Mussing his hair with one hand, he laid the other arm across her shoulders. She drew her legs up and hugged her knees.

“About backstage—” he started.

“Who’s Scarlet?” Zoe asked at the same time, leveling a gun of accusation right between his eyes.

He picked up the bottle of champagne at his feet and twisted the cork free with a loud pop. He filled two flutes, then caught and held her gaze.

“Scarlet’s my ex. I ended our relationship about a year ago, but she can’t seem to accept I’m not interested. The nice word for Scarlet is ‘unstable.’ She has some…mental issues. If you see her again, go the other way.”

Zoe accepted the glass he offered. “I can take care of myself. I’ve met my fair share of psychos—”

“Not like this, you haven’t.” Not even close, he’d wager. “Scarlet is…dangerous.”

Zoe’s brows squeezed tight over her eyes, and she looked to the window.

“I don’t want to talk about her. Tonight is about you.” He tipped his glass to hers. On impact, a little
ding
rang from the mouth of the crystal. He took a swallow with her.

God, Zoe’s lips. That kiss earlier had almost done him in, and now watching the champagne spill into her mouth, all he wanted was an instant replay on continuous loop. For maybe seven hours straight.

Zoe lowered her feet to the floor and placed her glass on the table. “I’m gonna take a stab in the dark as to why I’m here, and you can tell me if I’m hot or cold.”

He grinned. “Hot. Case closed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a young, good looking guy. I’m guessing you’re used to getting your way with the ladies. Maybe you’re a little bored with the groupie routine and want to try something different. I’m an older professional from another country, and only in town for a few months. You can have some fun with me, no commitment required. How am I doing so far?”

She had no clue. He faced her and dragged a knee up between them on the lounge. “Why can’t you accept that I’m attracted to you? You’re smart. Beautiful. Tough. And yes, different. I can’t get you out of my head.” He touched her hand.

Her fingers flattened under his palm on the blue velvet cushion. She avoided his stare.

“Let’s pretend for tonight I’m some bloke you met at the pub. A nobody. No attachments, no expectations. We’ll be two people getting to know each other over a bottle of champagne.”

“But you’re not just
some guy
.” Her voice rose with a hint of exasperation. “You’re Gavin Cassidy. Lead singer of Just Breathe. The heartthrob who makes girls swoon and pass out and turn to bulimia and razor blades as a means of expressing undying devotion that nobody else understands.”

He smiled. She had a funny way with words. “No. Tonight, I’m just Gavin. On a date with a woman named Zoe. Not Dr. Morgan, the multi-published marine biologist and world-renowned whale expert. Just Zoe.”

She looked away. He slid his fingers between hers, brought the knot of their hands to his lips, and brushed a kiss over her fingers. Her reluctance to accept him at face value was both infuriating and strangely arousing. He’d spent a fair portion of his adult life in the public eye, always under scrutiny, constantly being picked apart for every move he made. But unlike obsessive stalker groupies, Zoe couldn’t have cared less about his fame.

There was a certain sadistic challenge in playing the hunter instead of the hunted. Stood his whole world on its arse end. She was his little quandary.

“Fair enough,” she said. “So who are you, Gavin Cassidy?”

“I’d rather talk about you. All I know is you’re stubborn and fearless.”

“And you’re tenacious and talented, with a knack for annoying people into unwanted dates.” She nudged an elbow into his chest.

He laughed. “Come off it. Has it really been that bad?”

“I’m still undecided.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got about twelve hours to win me over, and odds are against you after—” A flush of red zipped through her cheeks, and blue lines invaded her aura, tinting it purple. “Sorry. That was rude. I’ll try to rein in my inner bitch.” She picked up her champagne, drained the glass, then held it out to him. “Another hit of bubbly should help.”

Grinning, Gavin poured for her. “I like your saucy inner bitch. She’s refreshing.” He clinked his glass to hers. “How about a round of twenty questions to break the ice? I’ll start. What’s been the best part of our date so far?”

She swallowed another gulp of her drink and blurted out, “The kiss.” Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she stared wide-eyed at him and coughed.

A smile swaggered over his lips. “For someone who didn’t want to go on a date in the first place, that’s well-shocking.” Leaning closer, he said, “You ready for another?”

“That’s two questions.” She started to put the glass on the table, paused, and downed the remainder of it. “My turn. If you could go anywhere in the world you’ve never been, where would it be?”

“Greece. And that’s a really boring question.”

Her face lit up. “Me too! I’ve heard Santorini is beautiful. And the Mediterranean has sperm whales and dolphins—”

“Let’s plan a holiday.”

“How about we get through this date first?”

“We can leave tomorrow morning.”

“Uh, no.”

“When you finish with your research project?”

“No.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’ll take you to Greece one day.”

She laughed. “Of course you will. Damn, you’re persistent. Don’t you ever let up?”

“Not until I get what I want.”

“Sometimes wanting is so much more than having. Isn’t that what they say?” A little glint played in her eyes.

“The promise of having you all to myself on a Greek island would be worth spinning the wheel to find out.”

She shifted her feet under her folded legs. “Can we get back to the game?”

“Absolutely. You ready for another?”

“Glass of champagne?” She thrust the empty flute at him. “Yes.”

With a headshake, he poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass. “Kiss.”

“Ah—” Sliding some hair behind her ear, she looked across the room at the bed, then back at him.

He
made
her
nervous? It was hard not to laugh, considering she was one of the most intimidating people he’d ever met.

“It’s a simple question.” His teeth clicked against the ring piercing his bottom lip, and he focused on her mouth. “Do you want another kiss?”

She stilled for a long moment. Her aura shifted through the colors of the rainbow until it landed on orange—a mix of reasonable yellow Air and lusty red Fire. He couldn’t tell if the hue signaled mischief or determination. He kind of hoped it was both.

She chugged the drink in four swallows and handed him the empty flute. “I’m not going to have sex with you, Gavin.” Her voice stumbled a little off-kilter, and her cheeks pinked. Not surprising, considering she’d drunk half a bottle of champagne in only ten minutes.

He accepted the glass and set it on the table. Sliding a hand around her waist, he leaned into her mouth. Much as he ached to explore her body as fully as he had in her dreams, the respect he held for Zoe kept his cock on a tight leash. Which was a refreshing change from the norm.

“I didn’t ask you to have sex with me. I only asked if you wanted a kiss.”

Her fingers landed on his cheek and eyes lost focus as they stared through his. “I shouldn’t be here. Drinking like this. Alone with…you. I—” She lowered her head.

He touched her chin, bringing her gaze even with his own.

“Yes, I want another kiss.” God, that raspy voice, the struggle raging behind her eyes, the unsteady ripple through the muscles in her back…

She didn’t have to tell him twice. When their lips met, he tasted champagne, smelled flowers, and surrendered to the rising Water threatening to drown him. As his mouth went to work on deconstructing hers, his Dreamsense tuned in to the melody her subconscious sang—the song of the whale.

A mixture of Fire and Water raced through his body, competing for dominance. Her cheekbone pressed into the hollow below his. Eyelashes—opening or closing, he wasn’t sure—brushed his burning skin as a raw wave of Fire flared and pulled him further down the rabbit hole.

Hands hooked around his shoulders. Her breath rushed in and out across his, and something warm and wet flipped his lip ring off center. God, her tongue nearly sucked the metal right out of him.

He’d always viewed kissing as the path of least resistance to achieving the goal of bedding women. But Jesus, this wasn’t a kiss. It was a fucking
experience
. Like discovering a new world. And the intoxicating atmosphere in Zoeland turned his bones to jelly.

A couple of notes in Zoe’s unsung song switched places. The tone of the music changed. Though not unpleasant, the sound was unusual. In the dreams, the tune remained pretty predictable. His Air pricked up and pushed some of the Fire aside.

Her lips continued plowing through his, and he let her lead. The song changed again. Some of the notes fell out of tune. He flinched. More Air poked his brain awake.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, eyes half-closed. The music rose in pitch and volume, a cacophony in his ears. This wasn’t her whale song. It was something disturbing.

He pulled away and scanned the room. Shit, the out-of-tune music wasn’t hers at all. He’d gotten so lost in Zoe, he didn’t even recognize his own Dreamsense screaming at him.

He looked at the door. The buzz vibrating through his body intensified.

“Gavin?” Zoe sat forward.

He stood up, flattened an index finger to his lips, and then tiptoed to the door. He dropped to his knees and looked under. Red stiletto heels. Same ones Scarlet had been wearing earlier tonight.

Fuck.

How the
hell
had she found him?

He got back to his feet and laid a palm on the door. Hot. Well, what did he expect? His jealous Fyre Elemental ex pays him a visit while he’s with the new girl—of course she’s gonna be pissed off. He didn’t dare put his eye to the peephole. She’d probably stab it with an ice pick or some shit.

What the fuck was she doing out there? Listening to them?

Goosebumps tread a path like ants marching from feet to scalp. He turned back to Zoe, who curled both arms around herself. Her knees bounced a little. Shit, she must have thought he’d lost his mind.

Trying to appear nonplussed, he donned a loose smile. “I thought maybe that was room service.”