When I stepped out into the bar, I found big gates locked over the public entrance and Faith No More’s cover of the Commodores’ “Easy” playing from the speakers all around the bar—to an almost-empty room. But I did find Jude, at a high table in the corner with Piper and a couple of other guys in Kings leathers. They were the only ones left in the bar.

I didn’t see Brody anywhere, and I stopped in my tracks.

Would he seriously have left? Already? It wouldn’t be like him to leave a gig he’d organized before the band did, but maybe he was really that mad at me?

How the hell was I going to sex him into submission if he wasn’t even here?

I started across the room toward Jude—but then he was here, out of nowhere. Right in my face… taking hold of my arm and steering me back into the ladies’ room, as Jude met my eyes and kind of snickered.

Once we were inside, he shut the door and shoved the garbage can up against it.

“You’re here,” I said.

“Yeah,” Brody said flatly. “So are you.”

“Um… good. Maybe we can talk?”

He glared at me, but at least he was looking me in the eye. “What’s to talk about? You think I’m gonna sit around with my dick in my hand watching you hook up with someone else, you’re wrong. Been there, done that. Not interested. So if you’re trolling for cock, you can do it somewhere the fuck else.”

“Trolling for…?”

“Just do me a favor,” he said, his voice dead-cold, “and do it somewhere other than in my fucking face, with my fucking friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Jimmy,” he said. “Or Snake. Or any of the other guys you’ve been flirting with all night, or whoever the fuck else you want. Take your fucking pick.”

“Snake?” I shook my head in disbelief. He actually thought I was trying to hook up, again—with anyone and everyone—to make him jealous? What kind of uberslut did he think I was? “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

“Get fucked, Jessa.”

I took a step back.

With that sweet little sign-off, I expected him to walk out, but he just stood there staring me down.

“Would you please stop telling me off?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscular biceps and forearms bulge. He was wearing a thin, distressed T-shirt, and I could see everything through it. His hard nipples, his distracting pecs, his trim waist.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d figured out how to use their assets.

“Stop telling me you’re gonna leave,” he said.

“I didn’t.”

“It was implied.”

Oh my God. Had there ever been a more frustrating ass of a man on the face of the planet?

And I had to have the crazies over this one?

“Don’t you have any faith in me? Like at all?”

“Depends if you’re telling me you’re gonna leave or not,” he said.

“You made it pretty clear you want me to leave.”

His glare turned from icy to arctic. “Is that what I said?”

“You said you’re done with me, and honestly?” I threw up my hands in surrender. “I can’t really blame you for that.” So much for sexing him into submission. Maybe on this one I’d just have to admit defeat.

“The band made you an offer,” he said. “You gonna take it?”

I blinked at him, jolted by his switch into business mode. “No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“That because of me?”

“It’s because it’s not the right fit for me, or for the band. And you, of all people, must know that.”

He took a few steps toward me, closing the space between us. “If you and I work our shit out, you gonna change your mind about that?”

“About being Dirty’s rhythm guitarist?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s crazy. You know that, right?”

“What’s crazy about it? The band wants you.”

“And you’re okay with that? With me being a member of Dirty?” I just couldn’t see how that could ever work. Even if I wanted to join the band… I wasn’t good enough. Even if Brody and I could “work our shit out.” “You know I’m not strong enough,” I added. “On guitar, I mean. I’m not that good. You told them that, right?”

“You are good. And for the record, you’re the only one who doesn’t recognize it. With some work and devotion, you could be great.”

“I don’t think—”

“If you could see what we all see when you’re up there onstage, with the band… You can learn to be better on guitar, Jessa. But that chemistry? That vibe? You can’t learn that or manufacture it. You’ve been running from it for so long you don’t even know it anymore, but you have it. That thing Jesse has? You’ve got it too, in fucking spades. Why not embrace it instead of hiding from it? Just live the fuck out of it like your brother does.”

“I’m confused. Are you telling me to get fucked, or are you telling me to join the band?”

“I’m telling you if you were to commit, if you were to take it seriously and we could actually count on you for fucking once, you’d be amazing with Dirty.”

I shook my head, because it was ridiculous.

I was never meant to be in Dirty, like playing with them on tour and stuff. I was just a part of the bigger picture… a songwriter. A lyricist. I never wanted to be a rock star. That was an entirely different beast and it definitely wasn’t me.

“I mean… not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but—”

“You belong in the band, Jessa. You always have.” He shook his head, studying me. “I guess it’s just a fucking shame you’ve never wanted it.”

“I did want it,” I admitted, cautiously. “I always wanted to be a part of it. I mean, the music… the music is everything. I’ve always known that. And I know there’s a part of me that loves playing with them. It’s amazing when we get together. But performing? I can’t get onstage and do what they do. This show tonight was one thing. One acoustic song. Just a small bar in front of an unsuspecting crowd with zero expectations of me. But the shows Dirty plays on tour, arenas and stadiums filled with tens of thousands of people… that’s not my speed, Brody. I’m no rock star.”

He laughed in my face. “Not a rock star? You’re the walking definition of a rock star, Jessa. Talented as hell. Sexy as fuck. Mysterious. Gorgeous. Charismatic…” His eyes raked over me. “Did I mention sexy as fuck?”

“A couple of times.”

“Good. If it doesn’t bear repeating, you’re not a fucking rock star. And sweetheart, it bears repeating.”

I swallowed, but stood my ground as he got close.

“The fans will love you,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he knew it or not, but he was getting in my face; I resisted the urge to take another step back. “Jesse’s beautiful sister… the gifted, elusive songwriter who quits her modeling career to follow her true passion… what’s not to love?”

Then I did take a step back. “Is that what this is? You’re looking for a chance to spin some hot new angle for the band’s anniversary tour?”

He moved into me, and the air charged between us; I felt that crackle of electricity, that overwhelming, frenetic thing that turned my stomach to a swarm of butterflies, and up close, felt like a magnetic pull. I literally wanted to slam right into him.

“Sweetheart, don’t tell me you can’t handle a stage. I’ve seen you conquer a catwalk with those mile-long legs of yours. I’ve seen you get lost in the music.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and his tongue swiped his bottom lip. “It’s inside you, Jessa. It’s steaming off you when you play. You want this.”

Yeah… I was definitely starting to steam. Brody’s proximity was pretty much making the world evaporate around us.

“I’m not comfortable with it, Brody,” I managed. My back was to the bathroom wall—when did that happen? He had me cornered, instead of the other way around. “Standing up there on stage with a guitar,” I said, “while Zane sings my words… it makes me feel… naked.”

For some reason, that pissed him off. A lot. He sucked in an agitated breath. “You modeled practically naked,” he bit out. “What’s the fucking difference?”

“The difference is that was my body,” I said. “You’re asking me to bare my soul.”

He stared at me for what had to be a full minute.

“Yeah. God forbid I ask you for anything.” He drew back, snapping the charge between us, leaving me cold.

“You’re wrong, you know.”

“Wrong about what?” he said, like he really didn’t give one fuck.

I took a breath and forced it out. “I never chose Seth over you.”

Brody shook his head and turned away. “Have a nice life on your pedestal, princess.” He kicked the garbage can out of his way, which sent it crashing across the room, and went for the door.

“It was you!” I called after him. “It was you, Brody, please, just stop… Don’t you fucking walk out on me!”

He stopped dead and turned back to me. We’d both stopped dead in the wake of my voice, pretty much screaming those words at him. I couldn’t help it. I just snapped.

How dare he walk out on me when all he did was punish me for leaving, over and over again?

“It was always you I wanted,” I told him. “Don’t you think that if I could go back to that first time you kissed me outside that party when I was fifteen and do everything from that moment on differently, I would? But I can’t! I can’t change the past, Brody. You’ll never know how much I wish I could, but I can’t. All I can do is stand here in front of you right now and ask you to see me, me, and not that girl who ran away! I’m. Right. Here.” By this point, I was really losing it, so I just let it all come gushing out. Because maybe this was my last chance? How many times was he going to walk away from me, or let me walk away from him, before he really was done with me? “A world where I don’t have you in my life… I lived that way for the last six-and-a-half years,” I said, my voice reaching near-hysterical level, “and these last couple of weeks have just proven to me that I don’t ever want to do that again! I can’t! To be honest, I have no idea how I did it for so long and kept on living!”

I was panting by the end of it, my chest rising and falling in shuddering breaths, and his gaze dropped, his expression darkening.

“Where the hell is your bra?”

“Wh—what?”

“You were wearing a bra at the show and you sure as fuck aren’t wearing one now.” He was staring so hard at me, my nipples were getting hard in my slinky shirt. “What happened to it?”

“I took it off.”

His blue eyes, cold and dark, met mine. “You took it off,” he repeated.

I threw up my hands. “What the hell do you think? I had a quickie with Jimmy backstage? I took it off for you.”

He stared at me. “For me?”

“Yeah. So I could do this.” I shoved myself up against him, standing on my tiptoes, so we were almost nose-to-nose. Then I gripped his hand and ran it up my bare waist under my top, all the way up… to cup my naked breast.

Brody’s eyes flared as his breathing changed, deepening and slowing right down.

“This?” he murmured, squeezing my breast.

“Yeah,” I breathed. I dropped back down on my heels and brought him with me, my hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He ran the tip of his nose slowly down mine, and I shivered in anticipation. And I said, “You better fucking kiss me. You better not walk out on me, because I am not letting you go. If I have to make a giant fucking scene and make Jude hold you here at gunpoint, I am not letting you go…”

Then he nipped my lips with his and my pussy clenched, empty and aching for him. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” I entwined my fingers deep in his soft hair. “And by the way… I took my panties off, too.”

That got a groan of approval and the next thing I knew, his mouth was on mine, his tongue down my throat, and we were making out.

“I need you,” I told him between kisses, clinging to him. “And before you accuse me… I do not say that to every guy. I have never said that to a man in my life.”

“Jessa…”

“I’ve wanted you, wanted this, for as long as I can remember.” I rubbed up against him like a cat in heat as I said it. “Since I can remember wanting this at all, I’ve wanted it with you.”

To show him how much I meant that, I undid my jeans and shimmied them down over my hips, feeling bold.

He stood back, swiping a hand over his face as he drank me in. “You sure you want this, babe?”

I stood there, awkwardly, with my jeans around my knees. “Don’t you?”

“I meant… it’s pretty fucking dirty in here, princess. If you hadn’t noticed.” He slid his hands around my bare ass and pulled me against him, showing me that yes, he definitely wanted this. “And you, in my mind,” he added, squeezing my butt, his voice dropping low, “are the furthest thing from dirty.”

I glanced around. It was gross. It appeared to have been cleaned, hastily, the garbage emptied and everything kind of mopped off, poorly. But it didn’t smell bad, just kind of mildewy.

I could live with that.

“I wasn’t planning on touching anything in here but you,” I said, as I slipped my hand down the front of his jeans and grasped his dick. It was rock-hard and standing at attention, eager to be grasped. “And anyway…” I bit my lip a little. “Maybe I like it a little dirty.”

He groaned, his cock straining in my hand as he kissed me again. Then he spun me around by my hips. He caught me as I stumbled in my jeans, holding me up with a strong arm around my waist. I felt him fumbling to open his jeans with the other hand and he took his cock from my grip. The smooth skin of the head was silky and warm against my pussy, and a flush of excitement rushed through me.

“Last chance to change your mind.” He was teasing me, probably; I was so wet, the head of his cock had already slipped inside me and his voice had gotten low and tight, the way it did when his brain had left the building.

“Fuck me, Brody,” I urged him. If he didn’t, he was going to have to make me come some other way—soon. I’d never been into sex in public places… had never even come close to trying it before, had never really had sex anywhere but in a bed or maybe on the floor next to a bed. But I was way too turned on by the thought of Brody fucking me in this dirty bathroom.

Then he was inside me, in one fast, possessive thrust. I cried out because it shocked me a little; it hurt a bit, but he didn’t stop and I didn’t tell him to. I bent forward a bit more to accommodate him, arching my back, and as he pumped into me, his thrusts got deeper, fit better.

I rubbed my clit as his cockhead did magical things inside me; it felt so plump and smooth from this angle. He seemed to know it, too, because he gripped my hips and gave it to me with short, fast strokes, digging into my front wall, and then shoving in deeper… short and hard, then deep… in an erotic rhythm that drove me insane.

I paused a little in touching myself, distracted by the overwhelming pleasure that was building in a rush from the inside out… different from the rush of a clitoral orgasm. Freer, somehow, wilder… like I couldn’t control it, because really, I couldn’t.

Brody had control.

“Come, Jessa,” he rasped, between thrusts. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“They’ll hear me…” I gasped, my body riding the force of his thrusts, driving me back and forth against my hand.

“They won’t hear,” he said. “Scream for me the way you always wanted to… all those times you thought about fucking me…”

But I was distracted, weirdly conscious of the people out in the bar, and it was keeping me from letting go. Brody seemed to sense it. He reached around my front, underneath my hand, pressing his warm fingers over my clit—and wrapped his other hand over my mouth.

“You want it dirty, babe?” he whispered in my ear.

Then he fucked me, hard and fast, lifting me on my tiptoes until he made me scream, his thrusts and my orgasm tearing me apart.

Brody shuddered against me. He growled as he bit my neck, and I felt him shoot. But he didn’t stop; he fucked his come into me, gravity and his slowing thrusts making it messy. I felt some dripping out, running down my thigh as I took him the way I’d always wanted to take him—hard, wild, and free… and just that little bit dirty.

* * *

Later, we showered off the dirty back at Brody’s place. We were pressed together under the hot water and I was sucking on his neck. I kind of wanted to leave a hickey, just because I could, the way I had when I was seventeen; because I wanted to see it on him afterward.

The bathroom lights were on a dimmer and we’d put them low, so it was kind of like we were in another world; suspended in time, nothing else that mattered beyond this dim, steamy space and this private moment between us. I had him naked and wet and all mine, his body slippery against me, and I couldn’t get enough. I’d kissed him everywhere at least a dozen times, in a slow exploration of his body.

I’d licked his tattoo; the tribal pattern that ran down the left side of his body. I bit his nipples just to see what would happen (he liked it). I bit his ass (he liked that too, but he laughed because it tickled). I nibbled his neck and sucked on his fingers and kissed his feet (he liked everything).

“Are we just gonna keep doing this?” he whispered, as he slicked the head of his cock against my pussy, getting ready to fuck me again.

“Yeah,” I panted.

“I meant, without a condom.”

I peered up into his deep blue eyes. They were hooded and hazy. It was almost dawn and we hadn’t slept or even laid down yet. I felt kind of dazed from lack of sleep, but I refused to close my eyes on this. He grabbed my wet hair and tugged my head back, then leaned in to bite my bottom lip.

“Have you ever done it without a condom?” I asked him, shuddering as he shoved his cock between my legs and the hard shaft brushed my clit.

“Only with you.”

Right answer.

“Me too.” I kissed my way down his chest, kneeling on the tile floor of the shower as I made my way down his lean abs and the sexy V of his groin. “I don’t want anything between us.”

Then I took his cock in my mouth for the first time ever. I’d kissed it moments ago, but that was just a tease. This time I enveloped the smooth head with my lips, lightly stroking the rigid shaft with my hand. His cock jerked at my touch and he groaned, relaxing back against the tile wall. Water sluiced over him, running down over my tongue, and I kept licking, the warmth of the water and my tongue caressing him.

“You have no idea,” I told him, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Not as long as I’ve wanted you to do this,” he groaned.

I smiled, tracing the lines of his cock with my tongue, taking my time, learning what made his breath catch, what made him groan, what made him stir or clench or spasm. Just savoring the feel and the taste of him.

In my somewhat limited experience, penises were all pretty much the same. Or so I’d thought. But I’d never actually had a boyfriend, and the men I’d slept with I hadn’t exactly taken my time with. I’d only given head a few times, pretty much because a guy asked me to, I’d never swallowed, and I’d definitely never done it like this.

As it turned out, penises were not all the same.

Brody’s was thick and long and beautiful, and I’d never really thought of a cock as a thing of beauty before.

Maybe because I’d never been in love with the man attached to it?

Everything about Brody was beautiful, and strong, and yet… there was something about his vulnerability that fascinated me. That he was making himself vulnerable to me, now… he wasn’t grabbing my hair in his fists and forcing his way into the back of my throat, or driving the rhythm or generally fucking my mouth. I’d been mouth-fucked before. It definitely wasn’t my favorite.

Though if Brody wanted to do it, I’d let him.

But he didn’t. He just leaned back and took what I gave. It kind of felt like I was worshipping him, here on my knees, caressing his strong body… and yet, like I had all the power. I was setting the pace, gradually coaxing him to the edge, and when I got him there, I held back, slowing down, making him wait for it.

I savored the feeling of Brody, a man known for his decisiveness, his bossiness, his managerial prowess, giving up control to me.

I savored his responses, every twitch or involuntary shudder, the flex of muscle beneath my hand, the tightening of his skin, the changes in his breathing… the way he started squirming around, his back squeaking against the wet tile wall as he got closer to totally losing it.

“Jessa… babe…” was all he managed to say, and maybe that was my warning to get out of the way if I didn’t want to swallow, but no way was I doing that.

It was like I’d already told him: I wanted all of him. Nothing between us, ever again.

He arched off the wall as he came in my mouth, hot and thick, the taste of him salty and musky and him. He groaned and kind of panted as I took it, everything he had to give, and when he fell back against the wall, I gentled my touch. But I still had him in my mouth, sucking, caressing, easing him back down.

He shuddered and bucked, sensitive to every touch.

When I finally slid away, I said, “Tell me…” I was still down on my knees in front of him, peering up at his face, the both of us all blissed out and sated. “Tell me you’re not done with me.” And I did not just mean now.

I did not just mean sex.

He knew that, right?

He hauled me up against him and delved his hands into my hair, kissing my face with dazed, sex-drunk kisses as he held me close, his pupils large in the dim light.

“I will never be done with you,” he said.