High Strung (Power Station Book 1) (14 page)

My stomach growled. The only food I had consumed since lunch had been a grilled cheese sandwich that Reuben the cook had whipped up in the fifteen-minute break I had taken. I was pretty sure there wasn’t any food in the apartment, so growling or not, my stomach would have to wait until daylight hours.

After a quick shower, I continued to ignore my protesting stomach and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Not happening. I tossed and turned, crawling over to the opposite side of the bed. I could still faintly smell Dan’s scent on my pillow. I brought it closer to me, inhaling the rectangular feather bag like a drug addict taking a hit. Insanity. Perhaps the poison from the lead paint peeling from the walls had finally seeped into my brain? That had to be the only explanation as to why I was up at three thirty in the morning sniffing a pillow.

I punched it. The pillow. Because
that
made all kinds of sense. I groaned in frustration, annoyed that I wanted Dan laying beside me and knowing it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen. We were too different. I had no place in his world, how could it even work? The minute he slept with me I would turn into one of
those
. Another story to tell, another fun time. But still…I wondered if it would be worth it. I had seen another side of him today, a sweet man underneath his ever-present bravado. Was it an act?

“Ugh!” I punched the pillow again. Sadly it didn’t make me feel any better than it did the first time I’d punched it, my misguided emotions still twisting through my head. I took a deep breath and reached for the phone that sat idly on my nightstand. The dark screen illuminated with a swipe of my finger. Without thinking I scrolled to his name and pressed on his photo, that erotic image teasing me from behind the glass. I could look at it for hours. Torture. Obviously that was the solution, because clearly punching a pillow hadn’t worked. I brought the phone closer, the screen inches from my face, the temptation to touch it too great as I ran my finger down the image, imagining what its reality would feel like.

I continued in my silent indulgence, committing every line of his torso to memory. The sweeps of color in his tattoos burned into my brain. The light in the image shifted momentarily as I ran my finger along the glass, his name highlighted across the screen. Shit! I watched the phone dial of its own accord. My finger must have inadvertently hit call while I was stroking the image. I fumbled with the phone managing to quickly hit end before he had a chance to answer. I breathed a sign of relief silently thanking the gods the call hadn’t connected.

The relief and thanks had been premature however, as my phone once again illuminated with that taunting image. Fuck. Dan was calling me.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound casual but ended up sounding like an airhead.

“Ashyln?” Dan’s voice flowed from the speaker. “Did you just call me and hang up?”

He sounded good, his voice husky from sleep. My call had obviously woken him.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s my bedtime routine. I pick a random number to prank. Must be your lucky night.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” A low chuckle filled my ear and vibrated through my body. “Are you just going to bed now?”

“Yeah, I just got home. Sorry. Honestly. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I pulled the phone closer, hearing the distinct sound of sheets rustling. I liked that we were both in bed, together, even though we really weren’t.

“Babe, you can call me anytime. I hope you weren’t terrorizing some other band in a club, ’cause I kind of thought that was
our
thing.” The smile in his voice was unmistakable.

“I was working, Dan, and we don’t really have a
thing
.”

“So you get drunk and hassle other guys?”

“No, of course not.”

“See. Just reserved for me.
Our
thing.”

I sighed, surprisingly he was so easy to talk to. “Whatever, Dan, it’s too late to argue with you.”

“So where do you work that gets you home at this hour? Have you been holding out on me and you are really a stripper?”

“Dan, there are lots of jobs that have night shift. Most of them don’t involve removing my clothes. I could be a nurse, or a gas station attendant.” I pretended to sound annoyed.

“I prefer stripper.” He laughed, indulging his fantasy a little longer.

“I work in a bar, Dan, serving assholes beer and nachos. Sorry, there is no pole involved.”

“Why you working in a bar? Is this like Good Will Hunting where Matt Damon was working as a janitor but was a genius at night?”

“Sadly, I’m neither a genius nor doing this by choice. It’s the only job I could get. Not a lot of brokerage firms were hiring commerce majors who had less than four years of experience.”

“Wow, Ash, I’m sorry. That kind of sucks.”

“Yeah, well it is what it is. No point bitching about, so I guess I’ll just pour beers until I find something else.”

“But you went for the interview with Lexi, she’s bound to hire you. Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not really assistant material so I don’t blame her if she doesn’t. I only wanted the job as a way out and I think she knows I probably won’t stick around. Anyway, let’s change the subject. It feels weird talking about it with you.”

“It’s okay, babe, you like weird with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Dan, I never said anything about liking you.”

Dan laughed, the ease in his voice warm. “So if you were slaving away all night serving assholes why didn’t you collapse into bed the minute you got home?”

“I’m in bed, I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm, so what are you wearing?”

“Dan.”

“I’m sorry, babe, you want me to talk dirty while you touch yourself?”

“Um, no.”

“I’ll touch myself too, just so you don’t feel like a pervert.”

“I’m still going to decline. We’re not having phone sex.”

“Suit yourself, but I’m just putting it out there that I would be okay with it.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t so don’t hold your breath.”

My stomach picked the exact moment that neither of us were talking to break the silence with a very loud and aggressive rumble. Reminding me that in addition to the arousal I was now feeling, I still hadn’t dealt with the other primal need, hunger.

“Holy shit. What was that?” His voice became more serious, obviously having heard the rumble through the phone.

“It was my stomach.” I laughed, clutching it and silently willing it to shut up.

“It sounded like a fucking animal, you sure there isn’t a rabid puma hiding under your bed?”

I felt my cheeks flush as I hid my face. “No, it’s just me. I’m going to go now and be mortified by myself.”

“Don’t be mortified. It’s no big deal, just eat something. I don’t think that sound is normal.”

“Okay. I’m going to hang up now. I’ll talk to you later.” I stupidly kept my face hidden even though he couldn’t see me.

“Night, Ash. Eat something.”

“Night, Dan.”

I was equal parts horrified and elated as I placed the phone back on my nightstand. Well now I definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep. The sound of his voice was still ringing in my ear. The memory of his throaty laugh made parts of me tingle. Maybe I had been hasty in dismissing his suggestion of phone sex. Not that I had ever done it, no guy had ever asked. I’d touched myself before, lost in a fantasy while I brought myself to climax, but never with such premeditation. I chewed on my bottom lip as the frustration hummed through my body.

It had been a really long time since I’d had sex, at least seven months. Tim Reeves had been my last boyfriend, a law firm associate with a foot fetish. Of course I didn’t know about the fetish until I had been dating him for a while and it seemed logical to move it to the next level. So one night after dinner and heavy make-out session in his Buick Regal, I told him to take me back to his apartment. He was smart, sexy, and had a promising career, and most of all, he seemed really into me. Problem was, he was more into my toes than the rest of me, spending a solid hour sucking and licking them before he even removed his clothes. When he finally got down to the actual sex part, he had worked himself up so much he barely got the condom on and was inside me, and it was over. I had initially chalked it up to first-time nerves so we persisted. Correction, I persisted. Six months of overpriced pedicures and bad sex. I didn’t have even one orgasm that I hadn’t manufactured myself. I had even tried ribbed condoms and lube. Nothing. No spark. And if the only way I was going to get satisfaction was from masturbation, I might as well cut out the middleman. It seemed like double handling, no pun intended. So I decided it was time for Tim to move on, and while he was disappointed, I let him paint my toes before I kissed him goodbye.

Dan was
nothing
like Tim. I was already wet thinking about his dark brown eyes and his sexy grin. I allowed my hand to move slowly down my stomach, settling at the waistband of my cotton pajama pants. I scrunched my eyes tight, feeling a little stupid doing this but needing something to help release some of my pent-up need. I slipped my hand a little farther down, my heartbeat kicking up as I toyed at the edge of my underwear. My nipples puckered underneath my cotton tank as I loosened the reins on my inhibitions.
Did you want me to talk dirty while you touch yourself?
Dan’s words made me smile as I thought about what I was doing and how disappointed he would be if he knew he had missed it.

I was just about let my fingers slide into my underwear when I heard a thumping coming from my front door. What the hell? I sat up in bed and checked the time, four fifteen. This better be a pizza delivery boy with a prepaid order or someone trying to rob me because any other option was going to be met with grievous bodily harm. I kicked off my covers and jogged to my front door, greeted by a second round of thumping. I grabbed the baseball bat I kept in the hall closet for security and tentatively looked through the peephole.

“Dan!” I flicked open the lock and wrenched opened the door. “What the hell are you doing here at four in the morning? Have you completely lost your mind?” I stood in my doorway, the baseball bat still gripped in my hand. Honestly, I was still considering taking a swing.

“Oh easy there, slugger.” Dan help up his hands in surrender, a white paper bag in this right hand. He looked just as amazing as he had earlier in the day, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and leather jacket.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated, lowering the bat but not willing to relinquish it just yet.

“Well, you were hungry and I can always eat, so I went and snagged us a couple of hot dogs from Gray’s Papaya. I figured we were both awake so…” He shook the bag in his hand. He came all this way because I was hungry? Who does that? Why was he being so nice to me when I’d been so bitchy towards him? Who was this man? What happened to the asshole I met a few days ago?

“Fine, come in.” I stepped aside to allow him entry, resting the bat against the wall. “You can’t just show up here at this hour, what if I had been sleeping?”

“Were you?” He didn’t even try to hide the fact his eyes dipped down to my chest.

“No, not yet.” I hoped to god he couldn’t tell what I
had
been doing in the absence of sleep. Shit. Did I look guilty?

“So let’s eat then.” He strolled over to my couch and took a seat, ignoring the fact I hadn’t followed him. “I’m going to start without you.”

“Yes, we’ve already established you aren’t a gentleman.” I took a seat beside him and snatched the bag from his hands. “I’m starving.”

“I told you to eat. I knew you wouldn’t listen.” He smiled, satisfied he had been right.

“It was time for bed, I wasn’t going to go make something to eat.” I pulled out a hot dog and took a bite. It was still hot and tasted like heaven.

“So you’d just ignore a bodily need?” He raised an eyebrow, taking back the bag and pulling out a hotdog for himself.

“No, just wait until a more decent hour,” I explained in between chewing.

“That’s such bullshit. If you needed to take a piss would you just wait that out too?” He shoved more hotdog into his mouth.

“God, you are disgusting. Tell me again how you charmed your way into my bed last night?” I rolled my eyes. He was so direct but despite me feigning annoyance it was actually quite refreshing.

“Sorry, let me rephrase. If you needed to
tinkle
… Better?” He smirked before continuing, “And I keep telling you, last night…all you.”

“Tinkle? That was the best you could do?” I tried not to laugh. There was a strange innocence about him, he was kind of endearing.

“Says the woman who answered the door with a baseball bat. You either got lost on the way to Yankee Stadium or you were hoping to get a starring role in the next Pacino movie.” He pointed to the bat still leaning up against the wall.

“Dan, just shut up and eat.” I took another bite, wondering if there was another hotdog hiding in the paper bag.

“So…,” he took a bite out of his hotdog, “you work a lot of nights?”

“As many as I can. Minimum wage blows and the tips are better at night.” I placed the last bite into my mouth, savoring it.