One Condition (The Lust List: Kaidan Stone #1) (5 page)

He leans in close, and his lips are almost pressed against my ear. “Fine. Let’s start over. I’m Kaidan Stone.”

I meet his eyes and see they’re dark, just like the other day in the garage. I’m hyper-aware of his hand on my thigh, his breath on my ear. The top button of his shirt’s undone, and I can seek tan skin peeking out. My heart thumps faster.

“I’m Hayley Wade,” I say, forcing my voice to sound strong.

“Nice to meet you, Hayley Wade. You know… We’re an item on the Internet.”

“We are?” I suppress a smile. “That’s really weird, since I just met you.”

“Right? But if it’s on the Internet…”

“What?”

“Then it must be true.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Can’t believe everything you read.”

“No?” he says. “Can I believe everything they say about you?”

“I wouldn’t.” I get a flush of pleasure at the thought of him looking up info on me, but at the same time, I’m praying to God he doesn’t bring up the shoplifting. How much does he know? As far as the world is concerned, I got caught shoplifting just once … one year ago. No one knows about all the other times, about my old habit. “How ‘bout you? Do the tabloids tell the truth?”

“Depends what they say.”

“Well, I don’t actually really read that stuff.”

“But you know what they say about
me
.”

“A little. Just that you’re trouble.”

He smirks, and I find myself staring at his lips again. He lightly squeezes my thigh, and the space between my legs heats up. My drink’s starting to move through me, making me too warm. I gulp down more of it. This conversation needs to go somewhere else.

“So… you come here often?” I ask.
I’m so lame.

He sips his drink. “Nope.”

“What, don’t like to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” he says. “So this is definitely not my scene.”

“You never dance?”

“Do you?”

“Sure. I don’t get you, though. Isn’t the Stone family
known
for their huge parties?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. We have another one coming up this weekend. If I could skip it, I would. What about you?”

“I’m a party at home kinda girl,” I say. “So if this isn’t your scene, why you here?”

“Some guys were in the studio with my dad, and they asked me to come here with them. I said no, but Papa Stone insisted I say yes.”

“Do you always listen to what your Daddy says?”

Shit, I did it again. The fire goes out of Kaidan’s eyes, and he drains the rest of his drink. “Nope. I don’t.”

Note to self: Don’t talk to Kaidan about his dad. He’d already learned not to talk to me about mine.

“So, those guys… Cylon Smash?”

“Right.” He sets his empty glass down on the table next to us.

“You like that kind of music?” I ask, struggling to save the conversation.

“I do.”

I’m starting to feel a little buzzed, but not enough. I drain my own drink as a new dance song pumps through the speakers. I stand up and wiggle past him to the table to set down my glass. I bite my lip and glance out at the curtain. Where are my friends?

“Hayley.” The voice is deep, cutting through the bass of the song. I look down at him, still sitting on the couch. His eyes are dark, glittering in the dim light in this room. He holds out a hand to me, and I take it.

He pulls me toward him, and I stumble in my heels. I reach out for the wall behind his head, trying to catch myself, and his hands wrap around my hips, catching me, steadying me. Heat courses through me.

I’m bent over in front of him, my breasts inches from his face. He drags his gaze up my body, shamelessly lingering for a moment on the tops of my breasts where they spill from my dress. My nipples harden against my bra, and then he meets my eyes again.

My heart’s thudding louder than the music, and I start to shift away, get out of this awkward position, but he holds my hips tighter and forcefully pulls me down onto him.

I fall into his lap, straddling him. My skirt’s barely covering my thighs, barely covering my ass like this, and I know people must be staring. But I can’t take my eyes off Kaidan’s. Warmth springs up where his hands still grip my hips, and tingling waves radiate through me, settling in my core.

He shifts me on his lap, pushing me down into him, and I feel him harden beneath his jeans. I’m painfully, achingly aware of the fact that only the thin layer of my panties and the zipper of his jeans lay between us.

“You’re a lightweight, huh?” he says, his voice gruff.

“Yeah,” I breathe, barely getting the word out. “I’m a lightweight.”

I should be turned off by the way he thinks he can just handle me like this, like he thinks I’m the kind of girl to put out right away, to do this sort of thing in public. But I’m floating, buzzed from the alcohol. I sneak a glance at the couch beside us. People are staring.

And I think I like it.

Kaidan tilts my chin back in his direction, making me look at him, and a thrill races through me, dances in my stomach—the same thrill I got when he saved me from the paps.

“You look really nice tonight,” Kaidan says. “This dress fits you perfectly.”

“Does it?” I ask.

“It does.” He runs a finger beneath the strap of my dress, tracing a light line down toward my breast. He holds my gaze as he does it. “But I have a feeling I’d like it better on the floor.”

My skin is tingling where his thumb rests over the curve of my breast. His other hand goes to my knee, and he draws light circles right above it with his finger. I suck in a breath and close my eyes, leaning into him and his touch.

“Look at me.” It’s a command, not a request. I make myself obey, and he watches my face as he moves his hand away from my knee, dragging his fingers up my thigh. I let out a tiny gasp as he moves up, dropping his thumb so it roughly grazes the skin along my inner thigh, only stopping when he reaches the hem of my short dress. I long for him to keep going, push his hand beneath my dress, just an inch more, tease my panties out of the way, touch me where I’m now wet and aching for him.

It’s been way too long.

I think he can see what I want in my face, because he gives me that little smirk again and bites his lip. He takes his hand off my breast and in one swift movement, wraps my hair around his fist and forces me closer, until my lips are almost touching his. I draw in a breath, inhaling the scent of him.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice thick with lust.

His warm lips meet mine, crushing against them, and I moan as his tongue teases my lips apart. I grind myself into his jeans, trying to fix the ache, and he groans and plunges his tongue deeper into my mouth. I lose myself in the heat of him, in the taste of the rum on his tongue. My hand finds the hollow of his throat, the small bit of exposed skin above his top button, and I run my nails along it, wanting so bad to rip his shirt off, to press my skin to his.

His hand inches up my thigh, disappears beneath my short skirt. I feel the light pressure of his thumb against my inner thigh, traveling up to my cleft, finding my panties. I moan into his mouth as he draws a finger along the thin cloth, and the ache radiates through me, settling in my core. I’m throbbing there now, and I moan into his mouth and shift against him harder.

His pocket vibrates beneath my thigh, and he stops kissing me. His fist relaxes its grip on my hair, and his hand falls away from its spot beneath my skirt. His eyes are bright as he pulls his phone from his pocket. It seems like he’s about to throw it on the couch beside us, but then he checks it instead.

I can finally breathe, but suddenly I feel awkward, straddling him here, the memory of his hand between my legs a raw pulsing ache between us. I try to get off him, but he looks back at me and presses his hand into my lower back, keeping me put, keeping me pressed against the hard length of him beneath his jeans.

“I promised I’d babysit the talent.” His voice comes out husky. “The lead singer’s getting very drunk in VIP”

My face flushes, and I bite my lip thinking of
his
V.I.P. “Oh, okay,” I say. “Well—”

He moves me off of him, to the cushion beside us, stands, and then pulls me to my feet. “You’re coming with me. Let’s get another drink.”

I’m a little disappointed as I adjust my dress, pulling it down to straighten it, to cover myself, but then he grabs my hand, and I’m tingling from head to toe again as he leads me back out to the dance floor.

As we push through the crowd, people stop and gape at us. Cell phones appear from pockets as people try to covertly—or not—take pictures of us. Kaidan keeps his head up, and I do, too. I’m floating, high on whatever drug he’s made of.

While we wait for another round of drinks, I ignore the gaping drunk people and check my phone. I had it on silent, and I’ve got a gazillion texts from Char.

I text her back to let her know I’m at the bar and headed for the VIP room.

She replies:
We’re coming over there. Can we come with?

Kaidan turns around to hand me another fruity drink.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m with two friends—I can’t ditch them.”

“Where are they?”

“Probably headed this way.” I glance around and see Levi dragging Char toward us. He waves. He looks way too overeager. He and I need to have a talk.

They reach us, and Kaidan’s expression turns… guarded. It’s the look he had when he first stepped out of the limo earlier.

Levi wraps an arm around me and gives me a drunken kiss on the cheek. “Hey, where have you been?”

Levi’s trying to make us look like besties. I shrug off his arm.

“Kaidan, these are my friends Levi and Charlotte.”

Char waves. “Diane Lamb’s daughter.”

I try not to make a face. Char always introduces herself by name-dropping her mom. I hear it for the first time as if I’m Kaidan, and it makes me wince at how desperate it sounds. Char’s mom, Diane Lamb, is a very famous, very eccentric actress who was already fifty when she adopted Char from Japan. She’s in her seventies now and never leaves her mansion for anything.

Kaidan gives a slight nod of his head and glances off into the crowd like he wants to get away from my friends.

“Great meeting you, man,” Levi says. He needs a lesson in cool, for real.

Kaidan nods again, and his eyes narrow at Levi. Totally awkward.

“I’m headed for the VIP room.” Kaidan hands me my drink, and all I feel from him is a chill, his friendliness gone. It’s like he didn’t just have his hands and lips all over me five minutes ago.

He starts off, just abandoning me, and I hurry after him with my friends, feeling like a puppy dog fool. What the hell? Did I just imagine what happened in the Velvet Room? My cheeks warm at the thought of our time on the couch. I want more of that. Badly.

Char and Levi grab me by both arms.

“Well?” Char asks.

“You two need to chill out. Act cool.”

“I don’t need a lesson,” Char snaps. She looks truly offended and points to Levi. “She’s talking about
you
.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Where were you guys?” Char asks.

“I promise I’ll give you all the details later, kay?” I’m nauseous for some reason now, watching Kaidan push through the crowd ahead of us to the VIP room.

“V. I. P.” Levi says, in a singsong way.

I elbow him. “Behave.”

I think I can believe the V.I.P. rumors, but I’m not about to tell Levi that.

Kaidan reaches the room first, says something to the bouncer at the door while pointing at me, Char, and Levi. And then we’re in.

The bouncer lets us through the doors to the VIP room, and we walk into a mini version of the main club. There are probably two-dozen people in here. There’s different music, not quite as loud as the other room, a bar along one wall, and leather couches along the others, with modern metal tables in between them. My eyes jump from person to person, trying to take stock of who these people are.

Kaidan walks over to the Cylon Smash guys. They’re spread out on one of the couches, and a few drop-dead gorgeous women are hanging out with them. Their tattooed, long-haired lead singer, Ender Varrone, has the prettiest one in his lap. He wraps his hand around one of her barely covered breasts and pulls her close. She twists in his lap to make out with him. And now I’m staring, the space between my legs heating up at the thought of what I just did with Kaidan… and how much I want to do it again.

Char nudges me, bringing me back to a reality where Kaidan has walked off and is apparently ignoring me now.

“To the left,” Char says, excited, “Bia and her manager.”

Bia’s even more famous than Serena Lynn right now. She looks just as gorgeous as she does in her pictures, all perfect, deep brown skin, long legs, and stylish short hair. She’s hanging on an old guy that reminds me of my lawyer. Her manager, I guess. There’s a few people crowded around her, and they strike me as dancers, or back-up singers. They aren’t all beautiful, but they’re all in amazing shape.

“I read Bia’s dating her manager. That’s the rumor, anyway,” Levi says, keeping his voice low. “Ohhh, shit. Look who else is hanging with Bia. Half the main cast of The Werewolf Chronicles.”