My head pounded as I surveyed the dance floor from our perch in the VIP area at Maggie Mae’s. Sipping my lukewarm beer, the bitter aftertaste matched my sullen mood.

“I haven’t seen you in a week and you’ve barely touched your first beer,” Logan groused, sliding a fresh bottle in front of me. “What the fuck is up with you?”

“I’m driving.”

Logan paused with a shot glass halfway to his lips. “Don’t give me that shit. You’re the most responsible asshat I know.” He tipped his chin to my phone resting on my knee. “I bet you’ve got Yellow Cab on speed dial. What’s really going on?”

Another sip of piss warm beer. “I don’t know, dude. Cinnamon withdrawal.”

Concern lit Logan’s blue eyes. “Is that serious?”

Apparently, it was dead fucking serious.

“I made it up. Just a joke—see?” I pointed a finger at my forced smile. “There’s nothing going on.”

I suspected my cinnamon remark was spot on, but I wasn’t about to admit it. This was the first night that I hadn’t spent with Mel. The only night since we hooked up at the library seven days ago. 

After leaving Mel’s place that first morning, I had no intention of calling her for a few days—at the very least. But somehow my truck ended up in the parking lot of the Life Science building after band practice that afternoon, like the damn thing had a mind of its own. 

I told myself that I was only there to check on Mel because I was concerned—like any friend would be. 

Apparently I was so fucking concerned, I broke my cardinal rule and invited her to stay the night at my house. Actually, I lured her there under the guise of mind-blowing sex. And then I fucked her into oblivion, and she fell asleep in my arms. 

We repeated the ritual the next day. And the next.

She’d even pulled me over to join her study group. Twice. I guess it was easier than explaining the guy lurking in the stacks, stealing glances from afar.

We never made any formal plans though, I just showed up after practice, and it was her place or mine. 

Until tonight. 

I mentioned the show to Mel this morning while I had her up against the wall in her coffin of a shower, even hinting that she should drop by the Parish.

Who was I kidding? I practically gave the girl a fourteen-carat-gold-plated fucking invitation. I thought she’d jump at the chance. Or at least hop. People lined up for hours to see us perform.

But not Mel. She told me she had a morning class and staying out late didn’t jive with her schedule.

Since she made it clear that she wasn’t going to change her plans, there was no reason for me to change mine. The band always went out after a show. But I hadn’t counted on being pissed and cranky. And Logan’s inquisition wasn’t helping matters. 

He continued to appraise me with narrowed eyes, examining the beer in my hand like I had a fever or something. 

“Are you going to tell me what the deal is or just sit there and sulk?” Logan elbowed me in the ribs to tear my attention from my phone. 

I had Mel’s number pulled up, ready to send her a text. 

“Nothing’s going on.” Pocketing the device, I pushed aside the old beer in favor of the fresh bottle. “I guess I’m just not in the mood to party.”

Logan abandoned his interrogation mid-sentence, turning his attention to a group of scantily clad women teetering up the steps leading to the VIP area. The bouncer held open the velvet rope, and the girls sauntered in.

Logan reclined against the cushions, grinning wide. “Well, you better get in the mood, bro. ’Cause we got company.”

The loud music camouflaged my discontented groan when Sean, our drummer, strode into the VIP area, balancing an overfilled tray of shots on his upturned hand.

“Y’all look like you’re in desperate need of company.” Sean slid the drinks on the table and then threw his arm around the redhead glued to his side. “I met Brandy here backstage after the show.” His lip quirked as his hand drifted to the girl’s ass. “I convinced her and her friends to come hang out with us for a while.” 

From the coy grins on their faces, the girls didn’t need much convincing. 

Looking around for the nearest exit, my gaze landed on a blond in a short skirt. Her long, toned legs were the stuff dreams were made of. But apparently not mine, since my dick barely twitched.

I continued to stare at her, wondering what those long legs would feel like wrapped around my waist.

Still nothing.

Fuck, I really was tired. Tipping my head back, I polished off the last of my beer, keenly aware of the phone in my pocket. It was still early. Kind of. Maybe I could call Melody and . . .

“You’re Christian, right?”

I blinked up at Blondie who’d somehow managed to slink across the room without me noticing.

“That I am.”

“I’m Allison.” She pressed her leg against my knee. “You guys were awesome tonight.”

Cutting her gaze to Logan, chatting up a brunette on his right, Allison’s face fell for a millisecond.

Logan was the big-ticket item, while I was merely a consolation prize. It never bothered me before, but right now the look of disappointment clouding Allison’s baby blue’s when she gazed at me sent a rush of anger straight to my frontal lobe.

This chick didn’t want me. She wanted to fuck me. Or Sean. Or Cameron, if he was here. That being said, she’d dump any of us like a stone if Logan batted an eyelash at her.

“That’s always nice to hear,” I said, barely able to contain my boredom with the whole conversation.

Taking a sip from the fresh beer I’d commandeered from the table, I shifted my gaze to Allison’s breasts out of habit. The large mounds spilled from her low-cut blouse, firm and juicy. And I could tell by the way those puppies didn’t budge when she laughed, they were fake as hell. 

I glanced down at my palm, which fit very nicely around Mel’s small, soft breasts. And her ass. Her thigh . . .

Logan nudged my shoulder, offering me two shots from the tray. 

“Where are your manners, son?” He gave Allison a wolfish grin. “Aren’t you going to offer this pretty thing a drink?”

Allison giggled loudly, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. I was relatively sure she’d take on both of us if we asked.

Not that I was judging. Sex was sex. Pheromones, hormones, and attraction. Girls weren’t immune, and condemning them for their desires wasn’t my style. If they wanted to have fun, I was all about it. Usually.

Hesitating for a moment, the thought of Mel lingered in my brain. Seven nights was six more than I’d ever spent with any woman. And that was probably the reason I felt so shitty. Too much of a good thing. Mel was just one appetizer on the buffet. 

I gazed around at the other girls vying for attention, wondering if any of them were as tasty. If any of them smelled like cinnamon and fresh leaves and . . .

Shaking my head to knock Mel’s image from my mind, I took the shot and made room for Allison on the couch.

“What do you say, Allison?” I patted the cushion and she nestled in beside me, her hand on my thigh. Ignoring her cloying perfume when my lips touched her ear, I pressed the drink in her hand. “You in the mood for a shot?”

My heavy lids creaked open as the taxi pulled to a stop. I paid the fare before stumbling onto the curb, my eyes wandering to the second floor. With an unsteady gait, I stumbled toward the concrete staircase. In my condition, I probably shouldn’t be attempting such a feat. But I did.

Holding tight to the railing, I navigated the steps. When I reached the landing, I staggered to the door, the ground tilting beneath me.

Blowing out a breath, I rapped three times in quick succession. 

What the fuck are you doing?

The errant thought drifted right out of my head when I met Mel’s sleepy green eyes.

“Christian?” Her brows drew together in confusion. “What are you—”

Pulling her into my arms, my uncoordinated hand slid to the curve of her ass. “Did you miss me, angel?”

I wasn’t crossing the threshold until she gave me some kind of clue. It’s bad enough that I’d shown up here out of the blue. That I sent Allison packing because the thought of her lips on mine was so revolting, I couldn’t even kiss her, let alone take her up on whatever else she was offering. 

“You’re drunk,” Mel said, resting her palm on my shoulder to steady me. “What are you doing here?”

“Answer my question first.”

Bracing my hand against the doorframe, I did my best impression of a sober person while she scrutinized me with a small frown. 

“You want an answer?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Go home.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Was it?

Hanging my head, I attempted to recall what I’d asked. Inebriated as I was, time had no meaning, so I wasn’t sure how long I stood on Mel’s stoop, staring at my shoes.

Apparently, long enough for her to take pity on me.

“Get in here.” Mel’s fingers twisted in the fabric of my T-shirt before she pulled me inside. “I’m freezing my ass off and I need to get some rest.”

Though I tried to resist—or maybe just thought about it briefly—I let her drag me all the way to the bedroom.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” she mumbled, sliding between the sheets.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As I snuggled beside her, befuddled and totally at peace, my heavy lids closed.

“To answer your earlier question: yes.”

Her soft voice pierced the thin veil of near sleep as she traced a finger back and forth across my forearm.

“‘Yes’ what, angel?” I murmured, savoring the scent of her autumn-soaked skin.

“Yes, I missed you.”

I draped my denim-clad thigh over her leg so I could pull her closer. And though every cell in my body came to life, I was too wasted to do anything about it. The funny part? I didn’t care.

“You’re not an appetizer,” I murmured, sneaking a hand under her nightshirt to caress her bare stomach. 

“Good to hear,” she said through a yawn. “But the next time you show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night, you’d better bring a blanket, because I won’t let you inside.”

Burying my face in her hair, the evening’s tensions fell away.

“Yes, you will.”

If she argued the point, it was lost on me. I was already out. Floating on a cloud of cinnamon and surrounded by fall leaves.