Home > Sweet Ache (Driven #7)(19)

Sweet Ache (Driven #7)(19)
Author: K. Bromberg

I have no shame about admitting it, or even in the idea of doing it because hell, being confident in wanting a guy is a good thing. I never shy away from a man when I want him … but something tells me that this one just might knock me off my feet. And while I’m all for having my world rocked, I’d rather it was not by someone used to playing women like a guitar and then disposing of them once the song’s over.

His mocking laugh behind me breaks through my thoughts. But I keep walking, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to me, that I can’t take a frickin’ step without him invading my thoughts.

“Quinlan! Stop,” he says. “You’re not going to leave me poor and defenseless against that fucked-up PA system, are you?”

“You’re a big boy; I’m sure you can fend for yourself just fine.”

I hear him snicker beside me and I roll my eyes, realizing the big boy comment I just handed him without thought. “You’re right, on both counts,” he chuckles, and the sound, smooth silk with a hint of strain, hits my ears and my libido in ways I don’t want it to. “But a man likes to have some help every now and again.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of willing candidates.” I’m thinking of the sigher who sat next to me at the last lecture as I keep walking, trying to focus on anything but the man beside me.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to go back and tell Carla, then….”

I slow my pace a clip but keep moving forward, knowing he has my number. “You handle complicated stage equipment regularly and yet you can’t work a simple audio system?” I snort out a laugh of disbelief. “Sounds to me you’re so busy being pretty that you don’t like to get your hands dirty. Forget where you came from that quick, huh?”

His hand is on my arm and I’m spun around before the last word is out of my mouth. I guess that dig hit a little too close to home.

“Where and what I came from is none of your goddamn business.” Our bodies are close, my eyes behind my sunglasses flickering back and forth from his lips to his eyes as he snaps the words out. He presses his fingers a little tighter on my bicep. “Who are you to judge anyway …? Right, Trixie?”

Even though I can’t see his eyes, I know they are boring into mine. I can feel the anger vibrating off him from the nerve I’ve hit. I don’t say a word because I’ve pushed the buttons—and right or wrong—for no other purpose than to keep him at arm’s length from me.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He finally breaks his silence and asks.

“Who says there’s a problem? Just because you’re intimidated by a strong woman doesn’t mean there’s a problem,” I snip, trying to push this off on him when I know damn well that I’m carrying the chip handily on my shoulder.

“Sweetness, only boys are intimidated by strong women. Men find it attractive, a challenge, so why don’t you pull another excuse out of thin air and see if it sticks.”

I shrug my arm out of his grasp and step back, hating that he’s right in every sense of the word. It’s not like I’m going to let him know it though. “I know your type Hawkin. I know the games you play.” I look across the campus for a moment before looking back to him.

“Who said I’m playing any games?”

“Ha.” I laugh. “Your type always does, don’t they?”

He pulls a hand out of his pocket and runs it through his chocolate-colored hair, jaw clenched in frustration at the bitchiness I’m directing his way. “If anyone’s playing games, I’m pretty sure it’s you considering you go back and forth between hot and cold quicker than a faucet. So like I asked, what’s your deal?” He repeats himself, irritation laced with a trace of sadness in his soothing voice. “You can’t handle me?”

I swallow over the lump of confusion in my throat; the blatant conflict between lust and obstinacy runs rampant within me whenever I’m near him. “I’m not handling anything on you, no worries.”

“That’s what you say now, but I’m patient…. You’ll come around.” He licks his lips, and unless it’s my imagination, I can tell he’s fighting back a smirk.

And I have to give it to him—he’s as relentless as Luke. Almost. But the difference is he has my blood pumping whereas I’ve never felt overly attracted to Luke. I shake my head in an effort to clear my thoughts.

“I just don’t understand why you’re here. Why you agreed to do this seminar … One and one doesn’t exactly equal two on this one.”

He works his tongue in his cheek as he processes my statement. “I thought it would be fun. A change of pace to help me work around some issues I’m having … with a few songs on the new album. A new perspective …” He nods his head and glances over to where someone yells out on the grassy quad area.

The way his voice drifts off, combined with the shifting of his body, tells me something’s off and as much as I know I should leave well enough alone, I’m not buying it. He wants to call me on the carpet, I’m going to match him, challenge for challenge.

“That’s too perfect of an answer, Hawkin,” I say, recalling the image of the Delta Sig girls from the other day and his hand on her ass. “I know your type and if there’s not easy sex, fast crowds, or loose women to get lost in, you lose interest so—”

“What’s wrong with easy sex?” he asks as he falls into step beside me.

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