Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) (10 page)

Razor accepted most people probably thought the same. He was the band leader, after all. The lead singer for a popular local group who did indeed spend his nights getting propositioned every which way from the women who frequented the club, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Until now, until
today
, he had avoided the opposite sex like the fucking plague, terrified of what might happen if he let down his guard. If his wolf got a whiff of something sweet.

“Look,” Ginny said shortly. She was on her feet now, one of her black dress sandals in hand, her gaze scouring the office, likely in search of the other. “You don’t need to do that for my benefit.”

He looked at her for a long moment before realizing he still sat on the floor with his penis hanging out of his pants. Odds were the fifteen minutes he had promised Aria had already elapsed, but he couldn’t leave here just yet. “Do what?” he asked as he climbed to his feet. He tucked his semi-flaccid member back behind his fly and zipped up.

“Pretend like I’m any different.”

“From
what
,
Ginny?”

“The other girls.”

Razor hissed out a patient breath. “For you to be the same as other girls, there would have to be other girls. There aren’t. This is new for me.”

He watched her pause, her teeth scraping her lower lip in a manner that made him want to growl and shove her against the nearest flat surface. Razor released a steady breath, his fingers curling and uncurling. She didn’t have to believe him. His behavior today had been positively barbaric. From the second their lips had touched he had been possessed by some primal need to take ownership of her. Feigning control of his libido while simultaneously standing as a living testament to how much control he
didn’t
have made him the poster child for hypocrisy.

Reminding her she wasn’t exactly innocent in this wouldn’t do much to score him points either. Razor didn’t have to know her intimately to know Ginny was a very private person. To her, his on-stage personality was no different from the man who had fucked her silly. She couldn’t appreciate the difference.

At last, Ginny sighed and shook her head. “Maybe,” she said, though her tone clearly indicated her doubt. “And I haven’t exactly been Little Miss Responsible. I came here to talk to you and I kinda threw myself at you.”

“In your defense, I am pretty irresistible.”

She snickered and looked away. “And modest.”

“The most modest.” Razor grinned in spite of himself, then forced it aside. “You’re not alone, you know. I have no idea what came over me either. The second you walked in, my mind checked out and I just…”

He stopped. He’d said this before, or tried. It didn’t sound any better now.

Ginny inhaled deeply. “We should talk about this, shouldn’t we?”

“I thought we were talking.”

“I mean… Don’t you have to go back on stage?”

Yes, and Aria was probably going postal with his continued absence. The only thing that saved his furry hide from getting another lecture was likely her aversion to seeing him balls-deep in a stranger.

Even if the meddlesome blonde had placed the stranger in his path.

“I do,” Razor agreed. “Will you stay?”

“Stay?”

“So we can talk.”

Ginny looked away again and rubbed her arms. “I shouldn’t.”

He nodded, hoping his face didn’t betray his disappointment. While yes, he understood getting the girl he couldn’t keep his paws off as far away from him as possible was a good thing, he didn’t want her running scared. No, Razor had spent too many years keeping his head down, too fucking afraid of his own shadow to try to get a taste of life. If his time with Ginny had taught him anything, it was life as he knew it was rather pathetic. Obviously he needed companionship beyond a surrogate sister and his right hand. His wolf could barely keep its shit together in Ginny’s presence.

Terrifying, yes. But he couldn’t help it. The voice commanding him to turn tail and flee was for once overpowered by a mad rush of curiosity-fueled courage. Even if he lost control—completely wolfed out—it would be better to face his fears than spend his life running from them. Natalie’s death had been under circumstances he couldn’t predict—not once during their very active sex life had his inner animal clawed for freedom. The fact it was now had to mean something, didn’t it?

Ginny had to mean something.

“You shouldn’t,” he echoed, his shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

She seemed determined to look anywhere but at him. “But you can have my address.”

That
he hadn’t expected. Razor blinked. “What?”

“Or my phone number.”

He took an eager step forward, half afraid he’d trip over his anxious feet and half uncaring if he did. “No, I’d like your address. Will you still be awake at…well, whenever I get out of here?”

Ginny emitted a high-pitched nervous twitter and ran a shaking hand through her hair. “I don’t think I’ll sleep for a month. But—ahh—are you sure you want to? Come over, I mean?”

Razor closed another space between them. She was near enough he could feel her warmth radiating off her skin, smell the sweet essence of sweat and sex rolling off her in waves. Something jerked in his chest and his cock hardened.

She needs to get out of here. Now.

If she didn’t, Aria might as well close down Electric Panther. He’d be a fucking goner.

“I want to,” he said, reaching up in spite of his better judgment to tuck a strand of silky-soft hair behind her ear. Her nostrils flared and her eyes darkened, clashing with his at last. He knew she felt it too. The drive. The urge.

Shove her against the wall.

“No,” he said, then winced. “I mean, yes, I want to, but you need to leave right now.”

Ginny nodded shakily. “Okay.”

“I mean it. If you don’t leave, I’m gonna lose control again.” Razor offered a lopsided grin. “Besides, I’d rather get you in a bed next time.”

She hummed her approval, her gaze dropping to his mouth. Then she blinked, snapped her head back and gave herself a good shake. “Nine five seven East Monroe Terrace,” she said, making a break for the door. “Apartment C.”

Razor nodded, turning to face her as she strolled past. “Nine five seven, apartment C. You’ll be awake?”

“I’ll be awake.”

“If you don’t answer, I’m likely to huff and puff.”

Ginny paused at the threshold and turned to favor him with an amused grin. It was maybe the first he’d seen on her face—he didn’t remember at that moment—but with how it brightened her up he wanted to ensure it wouldn’t be the last.

“My building isn’t made of straw,” she teased.

“I’ll just have to blow harder.”

Ginny held his gaze for a long moment before she aimed a meaningful look at his crotch. “And here I thought you’d leave something for me to do.”

It was a good thing she disappeared into the hallway after that remark—one more second breathing in her arousal, with those promising words between them, and he’d have had her on the sofa again.

As it was, he needed a cold shower. Or a bucket of freezing water to the face.

Lacking either, he’d just have to stop at the cooler before going back on stage. Hopefully he could find a handful of ice to shove down his pants.

To her credit, Aria didn’t make too much of a fuss about what she’d walked in on. Not that Razor expected her silence to last—there was one thing Aria McClain couldn’t resist, and it was a well-rehearsed
told you so
dance. Yet he made it through the entire set without her wagging her brows at him or rolling her eyes or making obscene hand puppets.

In fact, it wasn’t until much later—until last call was a distant memory—that Aria said more than three words to him.

It just so happened those words were, “You know, in case you were wondering, it is really hard being right all the time.”

Razor snorted and shook his head. The other band members had hightailed it after packing up their equipment, as was pretty much the norm. No one had a stake in Electric Panther aside from Razor, and he only through Aria. Heck, he was surprised to have escaped the band’s scrutiny as it was. The only remark had come from the bass player—Silver—and was something to the effect of her money having been on Christ’s return being more imminent than Razor getting any pussy. She’d then shrugged and fist-pumped the air and gone back to her business.

“It’s a wonder you get any rest,” Razor replied.

Aria fluttered her lashes and tossed a lock of blonde curls over her shoulder. “It’s a hard cross to bear, but somehow, some way, I manage.”

“And so modestly too.”

She snickered and snapped her fingers idly in the direction of the supply closet. The next second, a broom and dustpan tumbled onto the dance floor and began the
Fantasia
routine that had taken the little witch months to master. “I don’t need modesty when I got the magic touch. And speaking of magic touches, it sounds like you haven’t lost yours.”

Razor winced, his gaze scouring the stage in search of his guitar case. It had a way of disappearing and materializing over the course of every gig. And looking for it provided a nice mental diversion from wherever Aria was about to take the conversation. Talking about his lack of a sex life with the meddlesome blonde was bad enough—knowing she’d likely heard everything in surround sound took things to a level of awkward for which he’d never been prepared.

“But seriously,” Aria continued, “if she’s going to be this much of a distraction…”

“She’s not a distraction.”

“She walks into the room and you practically fuck her with the whole crowd cheering you on.”

Any immediate retort rode off on the heels of a hard sigh. Just thinking about Ginny, about the rush that had accompanied seeing her enter the club, made the sound around him fade into so much white noise. His blood rushed harder, his heart pumped faster, and keeping certain parts of his anatomy from showing his enthusiasm was a fucking chore. Being around Ginny tended to make the rational side of his head check out.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he murmured.

“What?”

“A girl shows up and I… Like you said.” Razor shook his head. “It might have been a long time, but I don’t think that’s the way it works.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Aria rolled her eyes. “How much do you know about yourself, Raz?”

He scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, about your kind. I assume you once had some idea of how werewolves mate.”

Almost instantly, his mind dragged him back to his office. To Ginny bouncing on his cock, her eyes glazed with passion, her vaginal walls squeezing him to a new life. The situation in his pants became more difficult to ignore, and sporting a boner around his surrogate little sister was not his ideal way to end an evening. “I think I have that part mastered.”

“Seriously. Seriously?”

“What?”

“I seriously know more about your kind than you?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean the girl could be your mate, Razor.” Aria gestured emphatically, the irritation in her eyes increasing tenfold when he didn’t immediately nod his acknowledgment. “You do know what a mate is, don’t you?”

“If I say yes, will you stop giving me the ‘if looks could skin’ glare?”

“You were a were-hunter!”

“And now I’m not!”

“Doesn’t matter! Haven’t you ever heard the phrase
know your enemy
?” She huffed, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t believe this. The word ‘mate’ never came up once? Not even in your support groups? What the hell did you guys talk about?”

“Mostly how to cope with being turned,” Razor replied slowly. She knew this. Aria used to quiz him upwards and downwards after his meetings. “You know… full moon, how to hunt, how your emotions can trigger a change. Oh, and how to avoid getting killed. If anything like this came up, it was a meeting I didn’t attend.”

Aria huffed. “Glad to know they were thorough.”

“It was about survival! What do you want?”

“I’d like you to once demonstrate you have the slightest bit of interest in your own goddamn nature.” She shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Honestly, Razor, this is ridiculous. There are things I can’t tell you. Things you have to find out for yourself.”

“I really love how specific you’re being right now.”

“Werewolves mate for life,” she explained. “And…like this. Like you and what’s-her-face. Like some freakish pull they can’t avoid.”

Razor blinked. “You think Ginny is my mate?”

“Well, no, I haven’t leapt to any conclusions. It might just be you’ve forgotten the joy of sex.” Aria shrugged. “Though since she seems to have the same problem you do, that would lend itself more to the mate theory.”

“It’s amazing. The longer you talk, the less sense you make.”

“I’m serious.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“Look, I’ll have to do some research, but the rules might be different for you since you weren’t born a wolf.” Aria tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “It’d probably be a good thing for me to do some research anyway, since apparently you won’t and it’s been a long time since I took a crash course in all things wolfy.”