Bound to Burn

19. Malibu Girls-2

Rocket Queen by Guns N’ Roses

As soon as I open the back door to the record store, I hear an old Guns N’ Roses song playing louder than acceptable through the Bluetooth speakers at the front. Sasha’s young and I know she’s used to working in bars, but this isn’t a bar. Plus, I’ve already told her this is a no Guns N’ Roses zone, which makes me believe she’s still a little upset, and this is her way of getting back at me.

I place the camera on my desk before heading into the front. As soon as I get to the counter, I stop dead in my tracks. I was intent on turning the music down or off, but I’m fixated on the scene in front of me. My chest feels heavy, and I can’t breathe as Sasha stands on a step stool dusting some of the guitars on the wall.

I shouldn’t be looking at her a*s as it sways back and forth to the music, but I can’t look away. She bends her knees, shaking her hips, the layers of her skirt shifting back and forth, threatening to expose the color of her panties underneath. The heavy but undeniable sound of Axl Rose’s voice singing Rocket Queen is muted in the background, because all my thoughts focus on her. A lump forms in my throat and my stomach tightens.

My eyes travel from her high-top Converse up her long as f**k legs that disappear under a very short, very pink, skirt. I can’t help but imagine running my fingers up the back of her thighs and taking her heart shaped a*s in the palms of my hands. The temptation is real, and I feel it deep in my gut, stirring more than just my d**k.

An uncontrolled groan travels up my throat, threatening to escape as she raises her hands over her head to dust a shitty Ibanez on the wall. The Ramone’s t-shirt tied at her waist inches further up her stomach exposing a thin tan line at her hip, and I think I might just die on the spot. The room spins and I’d give anything to have my hands on her, but this is my place of business.

I should turn the music off but I’m rooted to the spot, mesmerized as my body betrays me, and I feel like a seventeen-year-old kid who can’t control his erection. Tendrils of blonde hair fall loose from her bun, and I realize I’m standing on thin ice, all too willing to crash through and take what’s mine.

Fuck me.

She turns around and sees me as I lick my lips with heat in my eyes I’m not fast enough to hide, and my fists clenched at my sides. The stool tilts, her balance faltering, and it takes me three quick strides to reach out and grab her before she falls. Her body rests in my arms, and I tighten my grip, not ready to tilt her upright just yet. She feels like a puzzle piece being set in its place, and my heart bangs against my rib cage. Her eyes pin me, and become a version of what feels like home.

I don’t want to want her.

But I do.

I shake the vision from my head, regaining composure. “Rule number one, baby, no Guns N’ Roses is to be played in my presence,” I say, as I tuck the loose piece of hair behind her ear and set her upright.

She stands on her own, smoothing down her skirt before saying, “Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t here.” She smirks, her face full of mischief.

The music blares from the speaker as I glare at her. “What if a customer came in?” I ask, annoyed.

My eyes track her hand as she reaches into her blouse to pull out the phone that was tucked under her b*a strap, and shakes it at me. “I can turn it off from here.”

She taps the button with exaggeration and the music ends. Suddenly, the store is so quiet I can almost hear my heartbeat.

“Besides, it’s late afternoon,” she explains. “Usually nobody comes in at this time. It’s like the dead zone.”

“You’ve only worked here a month. You think I don’t know that?” I rub the back of my neck, feeling remorseful for being so harsh, but she has me on edge and I’m ready to snap.

“Sorry, boss,” she says, sounding offended.

I soften my expression, realizing that she’s not at fault for my feelings. “You don’t have to dust the inventory.” I point to the instruments hanging from hooks on the wall.

“I know, but your dust bunnies are having babies.” She attempts a smile, and just that little tilt at the corner of her mouth fills the dark corners of me with light.

“Where did you get that?” I point to the step stool she almost fell off of.

It looks like its seen better days; leaning off balance the way it is, and it’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck earlier.

“The storeroom,” she says, hooking her thumb in that direction.

“I’m throwing that thing away.” I point to the offending stool. “If you’re going to dust, you need something that’s not going to potentially break your neck.”

I grab the stool and haul it to the back, tossing it by the door so I can throw it in the dumpster later. Placing a palm by the back door, I let the shadows creep back in.

Never has a woman made me want to throw her over my knee, s***k her, and then kiss her in the same instance. She likes to push my buttons. I should be annoyed, but instead, it feels like goddamn foreplay.

I am in so much trouble.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sasha asks from behind me, and I startle.

Reluctantly, I turn around. “No, of course not,” I say, even though she neglected rule number one, but maybe I deserved that.

“Then why does it feel that way?” she murmurs innocently, her big brown eyes blinking at me, and I don’t think she’s talking about playing the music anymore.

I shake my head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just having a bad day.” I walk around her and back to the front.

At the counter, I log into the register to busy myself. I feel her presence like a shadow, a transparent reminder that I am not alone… because even if she wasn’t here, she would still invade the space in my mind. I don’t know why or how she has gotten under my skin, but she has, and I’m tired of fighting it all the time.

Sasha pushes herself up onto the counter, her f*****g pink Converse dangling next to me, and I mistakenly look over, meeting her gaze. My fingers clench the underside of the counter as she tilts her head in her cute way, blinking at me with concern.

“Is there anything I can do?” Whether she knows it or not, her tone is anything but innocent, and her eyes are like dancing flames.

Her outer thigh is mere centimeters from my hand, and it takes all of my strength to pretend not to notice.

I’ve used every excuse not to get close to her, not to give in to her, because I’m not that guy, the one to use someone and be okay with it. We are in two different places in life, and for f***s sake, I’m old enough to be her dad. Right now though, I don’t give a f**k, and if she keeps pushing my buttons, I might do something I’ll regret.

My eyes roam over her legs, and I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my waist.

“Sasha,” I warn, because I get the feeling she knows exactly what she’s doing: dangling temptation right in front of my face, hoping I’ll take a bite. I might just do that. She’s playing with fire, and she might be a mature woman, but I am a grown-a*s man who knows how to take what’s his.

She spreads her legs further, her thigh brushing up against the back of my hand, and chemicals of l**t rush through my bloodstream. One single f*****g touch and I’m questioning why I fight so hard to push her away.

Because she has the power to break me, and I don’t have the will to be brave.

We’ve been here before. It’s almost as if she can see the raging war inside of me when she takes my hand and moves it to the inside of her thigh, her eyes never leaving mine. I wrap my fingers around her soft skin, sinking further into her flesh. I will myself to not move my hand further up her thigh, even though I’m dying to know what color her panties are. Are they a soft pink made of satin? Everything inside of me wants to give in and f**k her right here on this counter, right now.

She’s giving me permission to touch her, and I can’t help but run the pad of my thumb over her skin, the softness a contrast to my calloused fingers. I move between her legs and her hair touches my face as she leans into me. Soft breaths caress my cheek and I close my eyes feeling like I’m on a rollercoaster. My hands slowly move further up her legs, luxuriating in the feel of her soft skin. My thumbs stop just at the hem of her panties, gliding easily over the silky fabric reassuring my earlier thoughts, itching to confirm that she is wet for me. I breathe in her sigh and my balls pull tight at the knowledge of being just at the edge.

“What are you afraid of?” she whispers.

“You,” I answer, brushing my cheek against hers. She smells like sunscreen, the ocean, and peppermints.

“I don’t bite,” she whispers back, her breath teasing my cheek.

I’m under a spell and it’s clouding my brain. My thumb brushes over the center of her panties, and I shudder when I confirm they’re wet.

So. f*****g. Wet.

“Is this what you want?” I rasp in her ear.

My fingers play with the edge of her panties lifting the material to trace the edge of her s*x and she practically pants. I’m dying on the inside, coming apart at the seams, but still not allowing myself to give in fully. I’m teetering on the edge, afraid to fall, but I want to touch all of her, to feel all of her, to taste all of her.

Fuck I have never been this turned on by anyone in a very long time.

“Yes,” she answers, and rocks her pelvis into me.

My c**k strains against the zipper of my pants.

Her hands remain at her sides, palms firmly pressed against the counter, fingernails digging into the wood. Her n*****s become tight points that press through her shirt and rub against my chest, causing my nerve endings to rapid fire.

I want to take her pleasure and swallow it whole, to wrap her body around mine, to sink deep inside of her, and show her exactly what she does to me, but I’m not past the point of no return. Yet.

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers to me, arching her back as I press my finger harder against her, causing the material of her panties to dig further along her seam.

Fuck, I might come from just touching her.

I have to remind myself there’s a power dynamic that I’m uncomfortable with, and this is not the right place for what is happening right now. I push myself away from her with more force than I intended. I didn’t expect the loss of her body against mine to hurt, but I am physically reeling and painfully hard.

I take a deep breath and try to refocus. “That shouldn’t have happened.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry.”

I dare to make eye contact with her. Sasha looks at me with disappointment and sympathy, as if she can tell how much pain I’m in.

“Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head slowly, trying to reassure me, but no matter what she says, it wouldn’t be enough.

Even if she didn’t work for me, this is just too much. The things I feel for her I haven’t felt in a long time, and I am not ready to dive into that ocean.

“You should go home,” I mutter and turn away from her.

I hear her slide off the counter, her shoes hitting the tile. She doesn’t say anything as she hesitates behind me. In my mind I can picture her face, those big brown eyes pinning me, owning me in a way that scares the s**t out of me, and I know I can’t look at her right now.

“Lock the door on your way out,” I say over my shoulder as I take the stairs two at a time to my loft. She can’t work here anymore. I can’t be around her, not after that.

I stop in the small bathroom at the top of the stairs and lean over the sink, splashing cold water on my face. What I need is a f*****g cold shower. As I bring my hands to my nose, I can smell her on my fingers. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as I do. I rock my elbows against the counter, half wanting to run back downstairs and stop her from leaving, and the other half wanting to reach inside my jeans and fist my c**k, but that will never be enough to get her out of my system.

Fuck. What is wrong with me? My body is in a state of free fall, and no matter what I do, I can’t get the scent of her or the feel of her out of my mind.