Page 29 of Dissonance

“It’s the Grammys,” Zane mutters, stopping short of an eye roll. “Loosen the leash.”

My fists curl at my sides.

Tyler turns to Thea with his best attempt at pleading. “Please? One drink. I’ll even Uber home straight after.”

Her lips purse, shoulders deflating as she relents. He grins, all charm and cheek, drawing a cross over his heart.

“Don’t give anyone anything to write about.”

He punches the air, and Zane mutters something under his breath that she chooses to ignore. As they disappear together, she watches them go before turning back to Cooper and Declan, one hand resting on each of them.

“Go enjoy your night. You’ve both earned it.”

She starts to move, and Cooper catches her arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“No.” He waves her off like that’s unreasonable. “Ride with us. I’ve barely seen you all night.”

She glances at me, brief, almost involuntary, and for a second, it’s just the two of us in a room full of gold gramophones and noise, and people who have no idea what’s happening.

“He gets needy when he’s drunk,” I say quietly, stepping forward to steer her after the lads. “Easier to give in.”

“And I want to tell you all about my awards,” Cooper calls back over his shoulder like she wasn’t there watching him accept them, grinning wildly and moving toward the exit, Declan’s hand firm at his back.

Chapter Twelve

Lockie

Cooper doesn’t say a single word. The second his ass hits the seat, he’s out cold; mouth open, head lolling against Declan’s shoulder, deep snores tearing from his chest. Declan adjusts him without a word, thumb moving in a slow, absent arc along the back of his hand, catching my eye from over Cooper’s head.

The hotel isn’t far. Fifteen minutes through late-night LA traffic, black roads that shine under each passing headlight. But it’s long enough.

The car pulls away from the curb, the space considerably smaller than it should be with Thea sitting across from me. Streetlights slide through the windows in slow pulses, catching the green silk of her dress, the fabric pooling where her legs are crossed, one heel swinging in a slow, steady rhythm. I keep my eyes on the window as we drive, but I’m not watching the city. At this point, the distinction has stopped mattering.

She shifts, and the passing lights trace the line of her collarbone, the bare skin of her shoulder, disappearing into the front of her dress, the low neckline I’ve been deliberately not thinking about all night. Her hands are still in her lap, but she knows I’m watching her. The slight shift in her posture, the almost imperceptible tightening of her fingers on silk.

Dragging my thumb along the seam of my trousers as she crosses her legs the other way, the material rides up a little more, revealing more of her thigh that’s already burned into the back of my skull. There’s no pretending anymore, and the controlled breath she pulls in, her barely audible swallow, I know she isn’t either.

The car slows outside the hotel, and I’m out before the driver’s fully stopped, door already open, scanning the lobby out of habit. The half-drunk rock star wakes enough to mumble something that might be words, and I get a shoulder under him as Declan steps out, both of us steering him toward the entrance.

Before I carry Cooper inside, I turn, sticking my head back into the car.

“Wait here.”

Thea blinks, hand pausing mid-buckle after shifting seats. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not fifteen,” she mutters, incredulous. “I don’t need an escort home.”

“It’s late, and you’re in heels.”

“I can handle myself, Lachlan.”

“I never said you couldn’t, lass.” I hold her gaze. “Now stay fucking put.”

Before she can argue, I shut the door, nodding to the driver, and get Cooper upstairs. The elevator’s slow, and Cooper is the opposite of helpful, sagging against the wall with the dead weight of a man who’s decided his legs are optional.