She's Got It Bad. Sarah Mayberry

rolled her stockings down her legs and toed off her stilettos.

      He looked away when she slid her thong down, forcing his gaze from the narrow strip of hair between her thighs. She was bare between them, he knew now. Smooth and so damned hot she’d blown his mind.

      She stepped into a clean pair of panties then reached for her jeans.

      “Can we go somewhere? To talk?” he asked as she dragged them on and tightened the leather laces that held them closed.

      “I told you, I don’t want or need your help, Liam. You just gave me all I’ll ever want from you.”

      Her gaze was steady as she pulled on her tank top.

      She meant it. Which left him with nowhere to go, nothing to offer.

      “How long have you been singing?” he asked. Mostly because he figured it was a neutral question and he needed to buy time to get his head together.

      “Five years now. Three years as Vixen. She makes it a lot more fun.”

      She moved to stand in front of the mirror, reaching for a tub of face cream. Her gaze found his in the mirror.

      “What about you, Mr. Do-Gooder. What do you do for a crust?”

      “I build custom motorbikes. Mostly choppers.”

      She pulled her hair into a ponytail and smoothed cream over her face, closing her eyes as she cleansed her eye makeup.

      “Figures. You were always fiddling in the garage, tinkering with something or other.”

      She wiped her face with a tissue. Pink skin replaced black and white. When she opened her eyes again he found himself looking at the old Zoe, the girl he’d known so long ago. No heavy kohl, no mask of makeup—just naturally long lashes and clear green eyes and pale skin.

      She reached for a mascara tube and his hand shot out.

      “No.”

      “She frowned. “Sorry?”

      “You look better without it.”

      She shook him off and leaned forward to stroke on fresh mascara.

      “I think you’d better go. Thanks for looking me up. It was…interesting,” she said, her eyes never leaving her own reflection.

      He stared at her in the mirror, and she finally looked at him, cocking an eyebrow.

      “What? You want more? Okay, thanks for the sex. You rocked my world more than anyone has in a long time. Happy?”

      Not by a long shot, but he was beginning to realize that there was no way he was going to get through her defenses tonight. She’d bite her tongue off before she asked for help.

      Without another word he turned for the door. He heard her close it behind him as he walked down the corridor. He walked out into rain and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

      He’d stood against the bar tonight watching the men around him wanting her, and he’d wanted to hurt every single one of them. Then he’d gone backstage and hammered himself into her as though she really was nothing more than a hot body.

      He spat in the gutter but it didn’t take away the bad taste in his mouth.

      He’d lost control. She’d gone out of her way to provoke him, sure, but it was no excuse. He revved the Mustang hard and left rubber on the road as he pulled into the street. He’d wanted to help her, and instead he’d let his cock do the thinking.

      It wasn’t going to happen again.

       3

      ZOE SAT IN HER CHANGE ROOM for a long time after Liam had left.

      Slowly she began to gather her things. She didn’t bother putting on the rest of her makeup. She simply packed her kit and folded her stage clothes into her gym bag.

      She could hear the band talking and laughing in the band room when she entered the corridor. They’d want to keep partying, go grab a burger and some beers in the city like they usually did after a gig. Even though she’d give anything to be able to walk away without talking to another soul, she forced herself to duck in and make her excuses before escaping.

      Cool rain misted her cheeks when she stepped out into the night. She raised her face and closed her eyes and let it wash over her. Only when her tank top and jeans were soaked did she cross to her car and throw her gear on the backseat.

      It took her ten minutes to drive to her apartment in the inner northern suburb of Essendon. She was shivering by the time she let herself in the front door. She told herself it was because of the rain.

      A weak mewl drew her attention to the corner of her small studio apartment and she crouched down to run a hand over the distended belly of the tabby cat she’d found collapsed in her doorway two nights ago.

      “How are you doing, little miss? You hungry again? Huh?”

      The cat had a collar but no name tag or address, and she’d consumed everything Zoe had put in front of her over the past couple of days. Zoe had no idea when her kittens were due—soon, if the size of the cat’s belly was anything to go by. Zoe had made a bed out of an old box and some shredded paper and handwritten some notices and posted them in her neighbors’ mailboxes. She hadn’t heard anything yet, but surely someone would be looking for their pet? Or had the cat been abandoned when it fell pregnant?

      Zoe took the time to open a can of tuna for the cat before shedding her clothes and stepping into the shower. She washed herself carefully, making sure every trace of Liam Masters was removed from her skin. She wanted no reminders of what had happened between them tonight—no traces of his aftershave, nothing.

      She hadn’t had time for dinner so she opened another can of tuna and ate it straight from the tin. She smiled at the cat as she collected both empty tins and dumped them in the garbage.

      “Dinner for two, hey? It’s all glamour around here, don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

      The cat simply stared at her with big, unblinking eyes. Zoe crouched beside it again and smoothed her hand over its warm, full body.