Manipulated: a Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 3) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Page B

ego.”
    “I don’t need to stroke anything.” I kept my eyes on hers as I loosened the towel. Her eyes got really big, but she didn’t bolt. And even more importantly, she didn’t look afraid. Wary, but not afraid.
    I slid my hands under her arms and changed the towel from her tucked style to draped like a cape over her shoulders. I blotted the wetness at her neck and shoulders. “You’re ridiculously beautiful, but you didn’t need to drip all over your equipment.”
    She tried to back up a step. “But I’m dripping on you.”
    I shrugged. “The costume is mine. In fact, these are my leathers from the tour.” I tugged the ends of the terrycloth together when she shivered. Her lips trembled lightly as I drew her closer. “Cold?”
    She pressed her lips together and shrugged.
    “Do you want me to back up?”
    No answer. No reaction at all. At least at first.
    Finally, her gaze lowered, and she jutted out her chest. Just a fraction. If I hadn't been watching her so fixedly, learning all her little tells, I might not have even noticed.
    I loosened the towel a little, until it fell to her elbows. I dragged her toward me as I shrugged out of my jacket. Goosebumps flared over her skin.
    “I’m wet.”
    “Is that so?" I let the question hover between us for an instant before I eased her discomfort. "I thought I was drying you off.” Her flush returned as I tucked my hook into my back pocket, then draped my jacket over her shoulders. “Of course now you have to keep me warm.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Aye.”
    Her lips twitched up in one corner as I drew her farther into my space. She laid her hand on my chest. I waited her out. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but I wanted her closer. I’d wanted her closer since the first time I’d seen her in the crowd of people.
    I just didn’t actually think it would happen. Not with how cagey she’d been all night. But she’d initiated the touch, even if it had been perfectly innocent. I was nothing if not industrious.
    Her hand slid down along the buttons of my vest, her fingers slipping over the brocade to the silk of my shirt.
    Tactile.
    I forced myself to quiet the raging need to push her for more, pull her in closer. There was nothing I wanted more than to plaster her to the front of me.
    “Do I get a real name?” I asked softly.
    She peered at me through her lashes. “Bettie is good.”
    I drew the towel down over her hips, drawing her ever closer. “You do Bettie Page justice with the outfit.”
    “You're just male. Woman in a bikini is pretty much all you need.”
    “I’m not just any male, love.”
    “What they all say.”
    “I’m not going to lie. I’d like to shake the hand of the man who dumped that punch down your white shirt.”
    The twitch turned into a grin. “Figures.”
    My laugh morphed into a groan as she slid her knee between my legs. “If I’d been more proactive, I’d have tripped him earlier.”
    Her eyebrow arched. “Is that right?”
    “Alas, how was I to know such a delightful ensemble was hiding beneath your costume?” I slid my hand along her back. Her skin was a little clammy, but was warming nicely under my heavy coat. She smelled of me and chlorine. And something a little sweeter.
    Something tropical.
    Her thighs bumped mine and that hint of watermelon wafted my way. Our lips were close enough that tasting her overrode all other higher brain function. Her breath hiccupped as we hovered in that almost space between now...and then .
    Breath mingling, scents blending, air heating. Chlorine and ah, there it was. Pineapples. Sweet and tangy.
    So very Bettie.
    Would her tongue have that flashpoint tang as an aftershock?
    Fuck, I wanted to find out.
    Her nails pinched at the top of my belt. The silk of my shirt shifted. Her towel slapped to the stone and my hand drifted lower. I didn’t intend to.
    I was a gentleman.
    Until the moments when I wasn’t.
    The wet bathing suit material melted under my palm. It hugged