I want to tell Mal to go fuck himself for his presumptions, but I can't bring myself to say anything close to that.

I understand his impulse. If I could go back in time and protect Asher from all the hurt that destroyed him, I'd do it. And I certainly wouldn't let anyone get in my way.

I hang out by the stage and watch the show. It takes three songs for my thoughts to drift away. Ethan is amazing. He commands the stage as well as he commands his guitar. Every time he blows kisses to the audience, a few hundred girls scream with glee. All of them want to bring the guitarist home.

They don't get him.

He's mine.

Not forever. Not even for a while. But for the next week, he's mine.

Ethan is sure of that too. As soon as the band is backstage, he slides his arms around my waist. He pins me to the wall and drags his lips over my neck.

"You look good enough to eat in that skirt." He sucks on my earlobe. "Let's go out, just me and you."

And nobody giving me shit about how I broke Ethan's heart. Sounds great. "Where?"

"For donuts."

"It's ten-thirty."

"Place is open all night."

"Okay." Honestly, at the moment, I'll go anywhere. I very much want to be not here.

I very much want to be wherever Ethan is.

Ethan grabs his leather jacket and leads me out the side door. It opens into an alley. There's noise to our right.

Uh-uh. No more interruptions. I squeeze his hand and lead him to the left.

"That's the wrong way," he says.

"So?" I step onto the sidewalk and check to see if the coast is clear. We're a block away from the venue. No one is waiting for a rock star sighting or, worse, the chance to invite herself into a rock star's bed.

I shake off the thought of Ethan plowing through groupies. The two of us are having fun. Doesn't matter what came before. Doesn't matter what comes after.

Right now, us having fun tonight—that's what matters.

Ethan laughs. "Which way is it, Master Navigator Violet Valentine?"

I have no clue. But I'm not admitting that. "This way." I point towards the direction of a busy street. Despite the misty rain, the sidewalk is packed with people. Some wear rain coats. Others brave the cool air in cocktail dresses and heels.

Shit, it's cold. I'm not used to doing things on the fly. I keep forgetting my coat. I'm about to pull my arms across my chest when Ethan slides his leather jacket over my shoulders.

"You still on track?" he asks.

"Yes, of course. I'm an expert in Portland geography."

"Yeah? Have all sorts of crazy visits to the City of Roses?"

"Do people call it that?"

"You're the expert."

"Uh… No, they don't."

He smiles at me: you're cute when you're making shit up.

I smile back at him.

I stop at a busy intersection. There's a bridge to our right and a dive bar to our left. In front of us is the Chinatown arch and a whole lot of booming bass. There must be a dozen clubs across the street. "I don't want donuts."

"You don't?"

The light changes. The walk signal turns on. I pull Ethan into the crosswalk. My voice gets low, needy. "I want to dance with you."

I want his body pressed against mine in some sweaty, loud club. I can have fun. I can even come up with the idea myself.

He waits until we're back on the sidewalk to speak. "I want to get you off in the club."

So I'm a beginner and he's advanced. All the better. I can spend the next week learning how to have fun. I knew how to do it once. I can figure it out again.

"Vi? You there?" Ethan slides his arm around me, stepping back into the lead. "Or are you too busy thinking about coming on my hand?"

"I'm here."

"Good."

He shoots me a panty-melting look. Fuck. Ethan is way beyond advanced at this too. Right now, I'm not letting that flummox me. Right now, I'm enjoying the ride.

He stops in front of one of the clubs and nods hello to the bouncer. The guy shoots Ethan a sideways glance. Despite the recognition in his eyes, he stays professional.

"IDs please," the bouncer says.

Ethan flashes his ID to the bouncer.

I dig my ID out from my back pocket and hand it to the bouncer.

The bouncer steps out of the way. He offers Ethan a nod. "I love that one song, Better Days. Dangerous Noise is all right."

Ethan laughs. "That means a lot, thanks." He shakes the guy's hand then takes mine and whisks me into the club.

House music bounces off the walls. I let my body take over. My hips sway from side to side. My arms go around Ethan's shoulders. Then I'm the one pulling him closer. I'm the one pressing my lips to his, sliding my tongue into his mouth. He tastes good and there's something amazing about kissing him. It makes me hungrier and needier, yes, but it also satisfies something deep inside me.

I grind my hips against Ethan's until my thoughts slip away. His body moves in time with mine. One hand goes to my ass to guide me. The other slides under my blouse.

I moan into his mouth as he cups my breast. Then his thumb is in my bra, playing with my nipple. It feels so good I can barely take it.

I kiss him harder. I grab his ass and hold his body against mine. He's hard. I want that. I want him as needy as I am.

I want him screaming my name as he comes. I need that sound in my ears. I need to know that, right now, he's mine.

He slides his arm around my waist and leads me through the dance floor. "You want a drink?"

I nod.

"Vodka soda?"

"Thanks."

He cuts through the crowd to the bar. It's harder perfecting the whole I'm great at fun thing on my own. Fuck it. I throw my arms over my head and I dance like it's going out of style.

My hips sway in time with the beat. I shift my weight between my legs, then I lean down low.

When Ethan returns, he guides me to an empty booth in the corner. It has a high back and we're facing the wall. It's a modicum of privacy. But I don't want privacy. I don't want to sit at all.

I want to move. I want to feel the rhythm in my bones.

"Come on." I take a long sip to down half my drink. "Let's dance."

He gives me a long, slow once-over. His eyes light up. "Take off the leather jacket."

I slide it off my shoulders and toss it on the table.

He downs his usual drink—whiskey on the rocks—in one long swig and pushes himself to his feet.

I follow his lead and finish my cocktail. It's a good drink—clean, crisp vodka and enough of it my head is swimming.

Ethan takes my glass and places it on the table. Then his hands are on my hips and he's pulling my body against his.

He's such a good dancer.

I look up at him. His bright blue eyes are filled with this mix of affection and desire.

It's intoxicating.

I slip my hands under his t-shirt and press my palms against his lower back. "This the kind of place where you'd go to pick up women?"

"What's that matter?"

"It doesn't." I shift my weight between my legs. "Are you going to go back to sleeping around after I leave?"

"Not thinking about what happens after you leave." He drags his fingers through my hair. His palm cups the back of my neck. "Don't want to think about you leaving." He brings his other hand to my hip and pulls me closer. "Let's think about right now."

I want that. I want to be good at it. I hold Ethan close and I match his movements. Kit is dead wrong— guitarists have masterful rhythm. Ethan doesn't miss a beat.

My body against his…

Fuck, I'm on fire. I can't remember the last time I wanted anything this much. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this much.

I reach up to my tiptoes. My lips hover over his ear. "I've been lonely without you."

He presses his cheek against mine as he moves in to whisper. "You could find another guy in a hot second."

"I know. I started dating that guy, Denny, a few months after school started. He was all right on paper— smart, professional, serious, the kind of guy my mom would like. He loved me. He wanted to marry me, but I turned him down." My cheeks flush. I guess I'm tipsy already, because my inhibitions aren't slowing this down. "He never made my heart flutter the way you did."

He drags his fingers down my chest until they're over my heart. "Is it fluttering now?"

"You can't tell?"

He shakes his head.

"It is." I look into his eyes. I'm not sure what I want to say. I'm not sure I want to say anything. Mostly, I want to get lost in all the affection in his blue eyes.

"Even though I'm a shallow celebrity asshole now?"

"You're not."

"Yeah. I am. I live for the attention."

"On stage." I press my lips together. "You're good on stage. You belong there."

He nods. "But that's not all it is. I screw fans. I talk shit in the tabloids. I pose for Instagram pics with lingerie models. Partly, it's the image. I have to play the bad boy rock star. I know the attention and the adoration is fake, but there's always a split second where it feels real."

"Yeah?"

"Then it's gone and I feel like a shallow asshole. But sometimes I can ride that second into an hour, a day, a week. I get to feel as important as I do when you give me that look."

"What look?"

"Like I'm the only person who understands you." He presses his forehead to mine. "I miss that so bad."

"You're a millionaire." I dig my fingers into his back. I soak in all the heat of his breath on my skin.

"Two-point one million dollars, yeah. You saw the numbers."

"You're famous."

"I know."

"You're a fucking rock star, Ethan. I'm a math grad student. You're the one who's important."

"No. You're important." He drags his lips over my cheek. "You're the only person who makes me feel important."

"I…"

"This." He drags his lips over my neck until I'm groaning. "Is important."

"What is this?"

"Filling you with pleasure."

"You say that to all the girls you get off in crowded clubs?"

"No, I don't. I say it to you." He slides his hand between my legs. "Not gonna lie to you, Vi. Even after everything, I'd never lie to you."

I nod.

"I've fucked a lot of women. I'm always generous. Always make sure a woman comes. But it's not like with you. It doesn't mean anything. It's routine. A way to get out of my head. A way to forget about you."

"Ethan…"

"I need to feel you come on my hand now." He presses his lips to mine. "Tell me you want that too."

"Someone will see."

"Do you care?"

"No."

"You still like feeling dirty, Vi?"

"Yes," I breathe.

From the hungry look in his eyes, it's clear we're done talking. That should bother me—the stuff we're saying does not in any way imply this is casual—but it doesn't.

Right now, nothing bothers me. I'm light. I'm free. I'm a fucking cloud.

And I want to feel dirty. I want to feel all the pleasure Ethan can give me.

He strokes me over my panties. I look up at him, watching the wonder spread over his face as he watches me back.

Goddammit, he looks so sexy in control.

He strokes me harder. He pulls me closer. He brings his lips to my neck. Then his teeth are sinking into my skin.

I gasp much louder than I should. But I don't care about that either. Knowing we have an audience makes me hotter. Knowing we can get in trouble makes me hotter. The truth is, I trust Ethan to wipe away any complications.

I trust him to erase everything that hurts, to turn all the pain in my life into pleasure.

This—us bringing each other pleasure—is the only thing, besides math, that has ever made sense to me.

I let my eyes flutter closed as his teeth sink into my neck. The hint of pain calls all my attention. It wakes up all my nerves so that the next time he strokes me, I feel more pleasure.

I feel more, period.

"Harder," I groan into his ear.

I need more of him.

I need all of him.

He pushes my panties aside. I suck in a shallow breath and look into his eyes. I'm buzzing with anticipation. I need him more than I've ever needed anything.

"Please." I dig my fingers into his skin.

He nods, his eyes glued to mine, and he stokes me with his thumb. He teases me with one finger. Two.

He slides his fingers inside me.

Pleasure pools in my pelvis.

With the next motion of his fingers, I forget about everything but how badly I want to come.

Tension in my core knots. Those strong, calloused fingers are magic. The friction is driving me out of my mind.

I suck on his neck as he fucks me with his fingers. There. I'm at the edge. Everything that isn't pleasure fades away. The music blurs together. The lights of the club blur together. I feel only the pressure of his fingers.

I taste only his skin.

There. With the next thrust of his fingers, I come. I groan into his mouth. That's not enough. I have to break free of it. I have to bring my lips to his ear so I can groan his name.

The orgasm is heavy and intense. I shake as my sex pulses. Pleasure spreads through my torso.

Every part of me is awake and alive and every part of me feels good.

But that isn't enough.

He needs to feel good too.

I guide Ethan's hand to my chest and I press my hips against his.

He's hard.

I cup him over his jeans. "I want you too."

"Later."

I shake my head. My eyes find his. "I want you in my mouth."

Hunger fills his eyes.

Damn, the way he's looking at me with this mix of need and adoration makes me want to go again.

"Saw an empty room." He slides his hand around my waist and guides me through the dance floor.

There's a private room in the corner. At least, the small window in the door makes it look private. The window offers a pretty nice view. We'll be on display if anyone wants to look.

This is dangerous. Not as dangerous as the feelings stirring in my stomach but dangerous none the less.

His eyes find mine as his fingers curl around the door handle. There's an offer in his eyes. He's checking to make sure I'm still game.

God damn, the affection in his eyes makes me warm all over. It's not the same heat as the sex, but it feels just as good.

I nod.

He pulls the door open.

I step inside. Then he's inside and the door is shut. This room is big, for private parties, or maybe just for busy nights. It's the middle of the week. The main room is plenty packed, but there's nowhere near enough people to spill into here.

I muster up all the confidence I can manage, look him dead in the eyes, place my hands against his shoulders, and pin him to the wall.

His eyes fix on mine. They're equal parts hungry and needy.

I rub him over his jeans as I drag my lips over his neck.

He groans, his hips bucking. Right now, he's at my mercy.

I'm drunk on the power of it.

I drag my lips over his collarbone. I tug his t-shirt out of the way enough to plant kisses on his chest. My hands go to his belt— it's the same one he always wore, my hands remember it well—and unbuckle it. I slide my hand into his jeans so I can cup him over his boxers. There's barely any fabric between my hand and his cock. I can feel how hard he is, how warm he is, how big he is.

His hand goes to the back of my head. Gently, he pushes me onto my knees.

I tug his jeans off his hips. Then the boxers. Then I'm face to face with Ethan's cock.

Damn, I missed this.

I brush my lips against his tip. He shudders and tugs at my hair.

Goddammit, I really, really missed this.

I tease him with my lips again and again. Then I tease him with my tongue. He shudders and groans, but he does nothing to spur me on.

I flick my tongue against him until his palm presses into the back of my head. He looks down at me and pushes my blouse off my shoulders. He tugs at my bra until my breasts spill out.

His fingers go to my nipple, teasing me the way I'm teasing him.

Dammit, that feels good.

Slowly, I take him into my mouth.

His lips part with a needy sigh. He keeps one hand on the back of my head, guiding me gently. The other stays on my breast. His fingers take their turns teasing me.

It feels dirty kneeling in front of him in some empty private room at some anonymous club.

Dirty, I like, but I don't want to feel like a throwaway groupie.

I look up at Ethan as I take him deeper.

He tugs at my hair, his eyes filling with pleasure. "Fuck, Violet."

My name rolls off his tongue like poetry. It wipes away all the doubts lingering in my mind. I'm not cheap or anonymous.

I'm important to him.

I run my tongue over him as I suck him from base to tip.

His hands go to the back of my head. He guides my movements, so they're faster, deeper. Then he's groaning as he's thrusting into my mouth.

I relax my throat to take him deeper. My eyes find his. I watch the pleasure spreading over his face. His teeth sink into his lips. His lips part with a groan. Another. Another.

His eyes close. His brows knit then soften.

"Fuck, Violet. I'm gonna come."

He moves harder and faster. I do the same. I suck hard as he thrusts into my mouth.

He tugs at my hair as he fills my mouth. He tastes good. Sweet, salty, and so fucking familiar. I wait until I have every drop of him then I swallow hard.

He pulls me to my feet and presses his lips to mine. "Fuck, you're amazing."

"You say that to all the girls who go down on you in clubs?"

"No. Only you." He tucks his cock back into his boxers and zips his jeans. His touch is soft and gentle as he puts my bra and blouse back into their proper place. "Only you, Vi."

He kisses me like my lips are oxygen.